A Deal with the Elf King (Married to Magic, #1)(28)

“Is this true?” He looks to Rinni. She nods. Eldas purses his lips. “Don’t let it happen again. Now, leave.” Rinni departs and his curt demeanor returns to me. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“You were late. Don’t you have an apology for me?”

I blink several times. Gone is the protective and mildly attentive Eldas I saw yesterday. But rather than fighting him, I force out, “I’m sorry.”

“If we’re working on your magic, we should also work on your manners. There’s little time before your coronation and you must be the vision of a queen by then. Your subjects have waited an extra, long, bitter year to meet you. Honor them by being what they expect of you and more.” The way he says it makes me think that he is the bitter one. “So, I’m sorry, Your Majesty, would be more correct.”

“But you’re my husband.” Even if he hasn’t really acted like it and this is a sham of a marriage, I’m going to at least try and use the fact to my advantage. “Is that really necessary between us?”

“I am your king first.” Eldas’s lips pull into a disapproving frown. “Thus it is very necessary.”

“All right, Your Majesty,” I force myself to say. I have lived to people’s expectations before. I can do so now. I just wish those expectations were something more than pretty dresses and fancy manners. Something more…useful. “I permit you, however, to call me Luella.”

“I will call you however it pleases me to do.”

“Fine. Shall we focus on the matter at hand, Your Majesty?” Every time I say those two words I draw them out just a little more.

Eldas clearly picks up on the slightly snide tone. His eyes narrow, but he doesn’t address it. A small victory for me, I think. If he wants to be difficult then that’s what he’s getting thrown back at him.

If he wants to be kind and thoughtful, like the glimpses I saw yesterday…then maybe he’ll get that back too. But I’m not holding my breath.

“There is no better teacher of control than the throne. We’ll have you sit again.”

The suggestion makes me physically recoil. Every part of me revolts. I try desperately to keep my composure when I say, “I actually have another idea.”

“Oh? Do tell. I cannot wait to hear it,” he drawls.

“For the time being, wouldn’t it be possible for me to wear some black obsidian, I believe you called it? It suppressed my magic for years.” I can already tell he’s going to say that won’t work.

“Black obsidian suppresses your magic, yes, for your use. It doesn’t get rid of or change the depth of your power. If anything, wearing black obsidian would only make you more vulnerable to attack because you won’t be able to effectively defend yourself.”

“But—”

“Moreover,” he interrupts and approaches me. The man can’t even walk without being terribly handsome and intimidating at the same time with the way the light plays on the sharp edges of his face. It’s unnerving. “At some point, you will be required to perform magic. What happens if you lack control of your powers?”

“I get—”

“And, the real question is…why would you want to get rid of your power?” Now he stops. Judgment alights in his eyes. “You are the Human Queen. You are the embodiment of life and nature itself. And you would throw it all away. You spit in the face of all the powerful women who came before you. You shame their names and memories.”

“That’s too far,” I snap. So much for hoping today might go peacefully.

“Is it?” He shakes his head and the judgment hardens unfairly into disgust. “There are people who need your magic. And you would turn your back to them. Why? Because it is too hard for you? You would rather go back to the pathetic existence in that gods-forsaken town. You speak of duty, but I doubt you’ve ever cared about anyone other than yourself.”

I strike his cheek and the slap echoes through the room. I swore an oath to help others, rather than hurt. But the royals of Midscape are making that oath impossible to keep. I’m surprised by how much my hand stings. Perhaps he really is made of sculpted marble. His cheekbones are so sharp they could’ve drawn blood.

Eldas’s face hardly moves. Even though I whacked him, he continues to stare down at me. But his expression is now a blank slate.

His pale cheek isn’t even red.

I had come here with the best of intentions. I had come here willing to learn. And yet he throws it back at me.

“Don’t insult me again,” I say firmly. “You know nothing about me. You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve fought for, what I earned. I spent years studying, learning, and practicing at the expense of wanting anything for myself. I earned the respect of my community and patients enough that they gave me their hard-earned money to get an education so I might better serve them.

“My life might not have looked like much to someone who came from a grand castle. But you know what, Your Majesty?” I sneer. “I worked for what I had and worked every day to keep it—to keep the esteem, respect, and trust of my community. I worked for it because it was what I chose for myself.

“You know nothing about me and yet you insult me at every turn. Fine, two can play that game, Your Majesty. What did you do to earn this castle? Be born? What have you done for your community? Breathe? Forgive me for not being impressed with your grand sacrifices.”