Ruined (Ruined, #1)(52)
“Innocent?” his father roared, practically leaping out of his chair. “The Ruined are not innocent!”
“What crime did Damian commit? What did the rest of them do?”
“She got into your head,” his father said in digust. “You let Emelina feed you these ideas—”
“I’m not an idiot,” Cas said sharply. “She didn’t need to feed me any ideas.”
“And so you blame me. It’s my fault Emelina Flores pretended to be your wife.”
Cas spread his arms wide. “I see no one else to blame. None of this would have happened if you hadn’t started a war with the Ruined. Now I’m married to one of them.” His stomach clenched as he said the words, and he turned away, afraid his face would give away too many emotions.
“You’re no longer married to her,” his mother said, like that solved everything. “It’s not binding.”
He rolled his eyes as he faced them again. “Really? Because you say so?”
“Yes!” his father interjected. “She lied about her identity! We will have it declared illegal.”
“Our souls are bound until death.” He repeated the words the priest had said, just to make his father angry.
It worked. The king smashed his hand against the painting, sending it toppling to the ground. “Then I will kill her myself!”
Cas’s first instinct was to yell No! He said nothing instead.
“Your father is right,” the queen said, in a much calmer voice than her husband. “This marriage isn’t legal. We’ll take care of it.”
Cas shrugged. Whether he was still married to Emelina mattered less than what he’d shared with her and how he felt about her and how much he currently wanted to tear her apart with his bare hands.
Why had she looked so sad?
“Perhaps we could arrange something else for you,” his father said in a suddenly optimistic tone. “The governor of the southern province has a daughter. She was our second choice, after Mary.”
“You must be joking,” Cas deadpanned.
“She’s lovely. Much prettier than Emelina.”
“You. Must. Be. Joking,” he repeated, slower. His parents were insane if they thought he was ever letting them choose his wife again.
“Not the time,” the queen said, shaking her head at her husband. He raised his hands in surrender. She focused on Cas again. “Right now we need to assess the damage done. What does she know? What was she doing while she was here?”
“She was with Iria all the time,” Cas said. “They’d become friends.”
“Or they were already friends, before she got here,” his mother said. “Given that the warriors have mysteriously disappeared with her, I think we can safely assume that they knew exactly who Mary really was.”
Cas cracked all the knuckles on his left hand, one at a time. “We went down to the shore. She was interested in the towers and how we protected our borders.”
“And you showed her all that?” his father exclaimed.
“It doesn’t matter now,” the queen said before Cas could reply. “We need to prepare for the possibility of an attack. Let’s call in the hunters from Vallos and Ruina.”
“It will take weeks to get them all back.”
“We caught Emelina off guard,” his mother said. “Hopefully we have some time. But we’ll put the guards at the towers on high alert.”
His father frowned at Cas. “I can’t believe you just handed over that information to her.”
“She was my wife! I trusted her!” The last words tasted bitter as he said them.
He’d thought she cared about him and was excited about the prospect of ruling the kingdom with him one day. He’d thought she was strong and brave and would be the best queen Lera had ever seen.
He’d thought she was falling in love with him.
Maybe she had fallen in love with him. Her tearstained face filled his vision. I don’t think this is who I want to be, she’d said. His brain screamed that she was a liar who couldn’t be trusted, but he couldn’t help but think that last night had been real.
The thought flooded his body with a sudden burst of rage. If it had been real, why hadn’t she told him the truth? He’d told her, Choose better next time. She could have chosen to tell him the truth. She could have trusted him to listen, to be willing to negotiate about Olivia. She’d chosen violence, and deception, just like her mother.
She’d chosen wrong.
TWENTY-THREE
EM AND IRIA spent an unfortunate amount of time hiding in a horse stall not far from the castle. By the time they were able to step out, they both smelled and were stiff from crouching.
The hem of her light-blue dress was covered in mud, and she wished she’d had time to change into pants before escaping. She had nowhere to put the sword she’d stolen, and now that the sun had set, there was a bit of a chill in the air.
“Give it to me,” Iria said, holding out her hand. “I have a spot on the other side of my belt.”
Em hesitated. She didn’t want to be without a weapon while Iria had two. If she’d been smart, she would have put together a bag to easily grab on her way out of the castle. Now she was stuck out here with nowhere to put her weapon, no water, and no food.