You Are Mine (Mine, #1)(37)

I don't want to say a word about my sisters. “There's me then Cynthia, then Bethany, Preshea, Julia, Grace, Ada, Emma, Sally, Beatrice, Phoebe, Ruthie, Stella, and little Molly.”

“Wow. That's a lot to remember.”

“Don't worry, you won't have to remember.” Egh. They're more worth remembering than he is. Stupid tea.

“Uh—” He sits back in his chair. “That's a big family and all girls. I only have one sister.” Only one? Must be because they already have a him. “Do you miss your sisters?”

“Yes.” My voice cracks.

He moves to kneels by me. “Hey, it's all right. You can be sad about it. Even if you need to cry about it, it's fine.”

Tears gush from me like a spring river.

Zade holds a handkerchief out to me. “I didn't mean you had to cry if you don't want to.”

My tears stop. Thankfully.

“What is wrong with you?”

So, so much. “What is wrong with me?”

He casts an aqua spell. It traces over me. “You're not spelled. Are you sure you're all right?”

“I'm fine.”

“No. You should be doing more,” he waves his hand about, “normal things.”

“What do you want me to do?” My voice doesn't sound like my own. Too breathy.

He clears his throat and looks around the room. “I just wanted to—” His gaze stops on the broken teapot. He stands, his forehead wrinkling. “What happened?”

“I broke it.” My body giggles. Blast it.

He strides to the tea pot and picks it up. He holds a broken piece to his nose and sniffs. His eyes tighten. With a wave of his hand, he casts a muddy spell over it. After a moment, the spell stops. He stiffens. With his hand clamped around the piece, he strides toward me. He thrusts the broken piece toward me.

“Did you drink this?”

“Two whole cups.”

His nose flares. “You're trying to get rid of my ownership of you so they'll have grounds to make me lose the Chancellor's position. Who put you up to this?” He throws the already broken piece at the wall. “Who was it?”

My eyes tear. At least he's getting to the information I want him to know. “Phyllis.”

“The servant your Father sent?” He paces the room, clenching and unclenching his hand. “I should have sent her away the day she got here. I just didn't think you'd go along with their plans. I should have never agreed to marry you. Stupid wench.”

He stops in front of me, leans down, and puts a hand on each of the arm rests. Punishment is coming. Some good will come of my detachment. I'll finally know what his punishments are like.

“Why did you go along with this?” His voice is menacing.

I cringe. For a moment I'm grateful my body is finally responding to what I want it to do, but then it speaks without my telling it to. “So my sisters wouldn't get hurt.”

His face relaxes and he stands. I jump up and put my head against his chest again. Tears stream down my face. Stop crying. Stop it right now! He's going to punish me, don't let him see what it's doing to me. But of course I continue crying. The Envadi doesn't move.

“I didn't mean to get upset.” His voice is calmer now, like that I'd use with one of my youngest sisters. “It's all right. Why were your sisters threatened?”

I sniff. “When I wouldn't drink the tea, Phyllis said Father had ordered that if I didn't, they would be punished.”

One of his hands rubs my back. I snuggle closer to him instead of running like I want. He jumps from me and moves to the other side of the room.

“I don't have the antidote. Sit. Don't touch me or come any closer to me.”

My body freezes. This isn't as good as being in control, but less troublesome than before.

He flicks his dagger on the table next to the branding items and paces before coming back to me. “Give me your hand.”

I hold out my hand. He pricks my finger and sheathes the blade. He holds my finger over the bowl. There's already some clear liquid in it, but I can't tell if it's just water or something else. The fluid turns pink and darkens as my blood flows into it. Once the liquid is a shade lighter than blood, he heals my finger.

“Sit back and don't touch me.”

I sit back in my chair and watch every move he makes. He grabs the dish of ink and dumps it in. Using a small spoon, he stirs the mixture. After a minute, he says, “Look at the ceiling while resting your head on the back of the chair.”

I don't want to take my eyes from him, but I can't help but comply.

“This will hurt.”

A moment later, he puts a hand on my shoulder and something pinches my neck, just above my collar bone. And pricks again and again and again. My branding. I try to wonder what it will be like instead of thinking of the pain. How will it be seeing it every time I look in the mirror? I start to enjoy the distance the tea forced on me and fall more deeply into it. I close my eyes. At some point the pricks stop and the pain eases. I'm being lifted to some place warm and comfortable. Everything fades.





Chapter Sixteen





Light streams into the room. I roll away from it. A breakfast tray sits on my bedside table. I groan and pull a pillow over my head. Then I realize I'm still wearing my dress and necklace. I bounce up, flinging the pillow from me. My hand goes to my neck where I was cut at the ceremony, then to where the pricks hurt me last night. My skin feels as smooth as always. My head was so distant last night, perhaps none of it was real.