Page 173 of The Chains You Defy

“Charming.”

The chamberlain didn’t reply, and I didn’t mind at all.

In a way, I would have preferred the small staff entrance and the hidden pariah table—as I’d dubbed the poor excuse for adequate seating. Being invisible felt much safer, but as usual, I had no say in my own fate. My heart ran in overdrive, and I wiped my sweaty hands on my dress in secret.

On an instinctual level, I knew I wasn’t safe tonight. The only thought keeping me halfway sane was the one that I’d be gone by tomorrow.

Lost in my own mind, I realized rather late that we’d arrived in front of the enormous double doors leading to the ballroom of Alaiann Palace.

Oh gods, they stood already open.

Grounding myself, I straightened my spine and stepped across the threshold.

“The Eachtrannach.”

Damn, even the herald had announced me today. Well, kind of.

Trying hard not to show how intimidated I was, I entered the hall with my head held high, but my bravado faltered like paper in the rain as I spotted none other than the High King strutting toward me.

In the last second, I remembered my manners and sank into a deep curtsy, concentrating on the shine of Galrach’s dark green dress shoes and the hem of his matching tunic, which was accentuated with delicate gold embroidery and brushed over the floor.

“You may rise, Eachtrannach.”

Obediently, I did just that. Luckily, Antas and Thain had taught me more about royal etiquette during the past few days, so I kept my mouth shut. I would only be allowed to speak once the High King granted me permission to do so.

“Let me escort you to your seat.”

My insides deconstructed themselves as I noticed his hand moving in my direction. There was no way I could deny him, not with the collective High Court giving us their undivided attention. Swallowing down a good amount of bile, I endured my hand slipping into his.

All my senses yelled at me to recoil and to run from Galrach’s unwanted touch.

But my reaction wasn’t just repulsion.

An unpleasant sensation, like needles pricking again and again, tormented my skin, and there was no doubt—the High King was using some sort of magic. Panic gripped me as unyieldingly as Dion’s embrace, my heart accelerated its beat, and as we promenaded, every point of skin-to-skin contact transformed from discomfort to outright pain.

Still, I had to act normal.

“You will sit next to me tonight. Nothing else would be acceptable for the courted female chosen by my grandson and heir.”

Everyone overhearing us had to think how forthcoming their High King was, but I knew better. This was another part of his power play, the next attempt to break me under pressure. And although I was petrified and fractured, I did my best not to show my misery. Galrach wouldn’t win if he had no idea how afraid I was.

Outwardly, the High King was politeness personified. He helped me into my chair, even filled my glass, but again, nothing was what it seemed. Galrach hadn’t permitted me to speak yet, and considering that his powers centered around rot and decay, why my food and drink tasted moldy and…off was no riddle at all.

Would he poison me in front of his entire High Court, or was I safe for now because of Danartha’s ultimatum?

The meal weighed down my stomach like boulders, and a hint of cramping stirred and upset my intestines.

And if I’d thought that all this was bad, I should have considered twice, because after dinner, Galrach stood up and extended his hand again. “Dance with me.”

What had I done wrong during my life to land in such a situation? Was that the punishment for not staying in my lane? For not accepting the lot the gods had given me?

Suppressing a sigh, I meekly nodded and allowed him to take possession of my hand once more. Dion would lose his shit without question if he were here.

The music started, and the High King pulled me into a dancing stance. When I’d met him for the first time, I’dnoticed the similarities between him, Antas, and Dion, but after all this time, the differences stood out more.

The constant hateful lines engraved on his forehead. The glint in his eyes that spoke of his hunger for power. The cruel edge to his lips—compared to the other two males, Galrach was just plain ugly.

“You see, Eachtrannach, I heard you received a very generous offer from Lady Danartha. Such a promising, ambitious female, would you not agree? So, in light of her proposal, I am informing you that I am altering my orders for you. You are not to wait until the end of this farce of a courtship to reject my heir. No, you will do as discussed with the High Lady.”