Page 26

I wish there was an award for making it to the bathroom on time before puking all over the place.

Because if there was, I would have nailed it with an incredible photo finish.

In trying to make it back to my room, I found a random guest bathroom in the hallway, not too far from the dining room.

There wasn’t much in my stomach to begin with, but it settled the nausea and brought relief.

I sat on the stone floor, cradling the porcelain throne as sweat peppered my brow and the torrential queasiness calmed at last. Heavy breaths fell out of me as my body trembled from the experience.

But it settled too, and I finally felt strong enough to stand.

I turned around and found the pedestal sink waiting for me.

Turning on the water, I felt the cool, soothing liquid flow over my cupped hands.

Bringing it to my lips, I sipped it, swished it around vigorously, and then spat out the aftertaste.

With the taste gone, I sipped more water, but this time, I drank it greedily to soothe the acidic burn in my throat and stomach.

Finally, I splashed the liquid over my face, feeling it wash away the sweat.

It felt good, and a sense of calm finally came over me.

What did I get myself into? I had slipped right into the lion’s den, played right into Sasha’s hand.

My brother’s life in exchange for her victory and power grab.

The joke was going to be on her though, when I disappeared with Jacob and she was left answering to the North.

That brought a smirk to my face. Then, I was reminded why I got so sick in the first place.

A gala.

A big show.

It was one thing to quietly play the part, but it was a totally different thing to waltz around a region, being shown off as the future doting wife of the First Son of the North. The wife to…

Wes.

My stomach churned, threatening once again. That was the bigger problem, wasn’t it? It was one thing to quietly go along, to remain a shadow in the background. But it was a totally different story to parade around with Wes. To make him think…

No. He wouldn’t believe it anyway. He didn’t want to marry me any more than I wanted to marry him. He made that clear enough. I was his brother’s burden, laid down on his lap without his consent or desire.

No, he didn’t want to marry me. I would be doing him a favor in the end. Giving him an out. I breathed in deeply as I splashed my face with more water, allowing the cool liquid to soothe my soul once again. It was all for the best.

Taking in a deep breath, I turned off the water and grabbed a hand towel hanging from a ring on the wall to dry my face.

Do I go back to dinner, or do I call it a night?

The mere thought of food sent my insides turning again.

Clearly, my body had a strong preference for calling it a night.

With one last shaky breath, I replaced the towel, put my hand on the knob, and opened the bathroom door.

“There you are.”

I jumped, startled by the person I least expected to see. Satin dress, pearls, golden locks, hazel eyes—Marissa. “Jesus,” my hand flew to my chest, covering my thundering heart. “You scared me.”

Her face remained stoic, elegant, clean. No emotion peeked through, no hint at what thoughts circled her mind. “I apologize. My intent wasn’t to startle you.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine,” I breathed out as I worked to steady myself. I decided this night needed to be over. I took several steps out of the bathroom and around the queen of the castle.

“You left the table so abruptly. Is everything all right?” Still no emotion. The words conveyed concern, but nothing displayed itself on her face.

“Yeah…yeah I’m fine.” I took another step around her, and this time, she mimicked my movement.

And all of a sudden, déjà vu hit me. The last time I circled something like this was a lion in the mountains of the rebel camp.

And that’s exactly what it felt like. Like Marissa was the most elegant predatory cat alive, and we were dancing a circle of death.

“Glad to hear it.” Once again, the words were emotionless.

Hell, now I knew where Wes got all his serious, stone-cold, stoic BS from.

He definitely came by it honestly. I was ready to take the nearest exit out of whatever the hell this was.

“Well, I…I’m going to head back to my room since I don’t feel good.

Have a nice dinner.” I turned to face the hall, ready to book it as quickly down to my room as I could—

“Mara?”

I froze in place. But when she didn’t say anything after a few seconds, I slowly turned around to face her. “Yes?”

“A lady doesn’t leave the table in the middle of dinner without properly excusing herself.

Especially with guests present, and especially when her engagement ,” she placed extra emphasis on the word, “is being discussed.” Marissa’s words came out cool this time.

Less like a lecture or the instructional words of a mentor, and more like the disdain of a disappointed stepparent.

And suddenly, I felt right at home in the most horrible way.

An old, sinking feeling slowly crept back into my gut. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to do better next time.” I wanted out. Needed out. Just as I was about to turn again, she called me once more.

“Mara…”

I gulped, but rolled my shoulders back as I lifted my gaze to her calculating one. “Yes?”

“As long as you remain engaged to my son, you will remember your position.”

My brows knitted together. What was that supposed to mean? “I don’t—”

“As the future lady of this house,” she cut in sharply, “you will conduct yourself in a way that honors him and this family.”

Okay, now I was really confused. Were we still talking about dinner? I opened my mouth to question again, but she continued.

“I don’t want to hear of male visitors going to your sleeping quarters again.”

Heat flushed my cheeks. “Oh, Mrs. Calvernon, he’s a friend and—”

“ Never again,” she emphasized. “A lady in your position should know how things look from the outside, no matter what the truth may be. It’s about optics , Miss de la Puente. And you will learn to always keep optics in mind for as long as you remain the future First Lady of the North.”

I slowly exhaled, feeling rotten and judged. I nodded in agreement.

“Good. Now that that’s settled, you are excused.”

The dismissal felt more like a rejection, but I didn’t move. Keeping my eyes on her, I stated the obvious truth lingering between us. “You don’t want me to marry him.”

Her eyes glistened then. “No.”

I knew the answer, but it didn’t stop it from stinging. “Then why agree to it? Why agree to him marrying me?”

Marissa exhaled slowly through her nose, and then spoke. “Charles has grand aspirations for the North. Let’s just say my opinion didn’t matter.”

Oof! I kind of felt bad for her. She was Wes’s mom. She deserved to have a say. But her thoughts didn’t matter. Not when expanding an empire was on the line.

“I’m sorry.” The words left my mouth before I had a chance to even think them through. But no sooner did I say it, I knew I meant it. I was sorry. I was sorry for her. I was sorry for Wes. I was sorry for myself. “I-I’ll do my best not to disappoint you.”

“Oh,” she said with an emotionless smile, “it’s too late for that.”

Ouch… If I didn’t feel like I was back in Telvia before, I definitely felt like it now. I had no response for her. Not one. I just nodded, acknowledging the insult, and took it in. I turned to leave.

“Mara?”

Oh no…what now? I inhaled deeply, mustering my courage to look back at her again. “Yes?”

Marissa stood up taller, tipping her chin as she looked at me under hooded eyes. The effect made her look meek and shy, but I was quickly learning better. “I already lost one son to you and your family. I don’t plan on losing another.”

I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? “Is that a threat?”

A perfectly manicured brow arched as Marissa gave me another emotionless smile. “A lady never threatens, Mara. She makes promises.”