What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(18)
This was one of them.
“You do realize the alternative is having your throat slit, just like your father?” he asked, the incredulous laugh that fell from his lips only serving to make me more determined to escape him. To make the choice that he wouldn’t approve of.
“I do” I lifted my chin and straightened my shoulders, projecting the posture of the woman he’d tried to mold me to become.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed dismissively, but behind his gaze, disbelief turned into knowing. He knew as well as I did that I’d meant the word. That I fully intended to say no to him.
“I was six when you held me still and forced me to watch them slice my father’s neck open. When they’d wrung all the blood they could from him, they burned him on a pyre and celebrated around his ashes. I hadn’t even turned seven yet when you first invited me to this library and allowed the Priestess to beat me until I curtsied properly, until I stood straight enough, and I knelt as long as ordered without complaint. I have spent a lifetime tolerating your touch and your attention. No more,” I said, the burn of tears stinging my throat and my nose and I held them back, refusing to give him that last part of me.
“And if I decide I do not need your permission? You think I have done all of this just to bow to your wishes?”
“Then I’ll tell the High Priest what you’ve done. You cannot keep me alive and keep me silent, as well, my Lord. Whether it is tomorrow or in a year, I will tell anyone who’ll listen that you’ve murdered your wife. What do you think the King would do with that information about his relative, when you and I both know you strive for far greater things than Mistfell?” I asked, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. It wasn’t a hollow threat; it was a promise I would spend every day of the rest of my life attempting to fulfill.
I just didn’t know if the King or the High Priest would care, or if Jaclen had any power at all, but his original plan to poison her slowly over the course of years made me think that maybe, just maybe, he would be condemned for his crime.
That damage was already done, the fatal dose of poison given to her before he spoke to me. He’d been so confident I would do as I was told and be who he wanted, he’d never stopped to consider that I would reject him.
“It would be such a waste of what could be a luxurious life. Think of what you would be able to give your family with me as your husband. They would be cared for beyond your wildest imaginings.”
“They would,” I agreed, nodding my head. Once upon a time, that had been everything I’d wanted, the promise I’d never thought to actually obtain. I was just so tired, so exhausted from the games I’d played to keep us alive for years. Brann would be more capable of providing for himself and my mother without me to consider.
They’d be okay.
“Take the night to think about it, and know that if you tell anyone what I’ve done, it will not be only you to suffer the consequences in the morning. I’m sure you’ll change your mind by the ceremony tomorrow afternoon. It is easy to be brave when you think I’ll back down, but I promise you, Estrella, if you don’t come to me in the morning, you will die for your insolence.”
“I would sooner die than allow you to shove that flaccid flesh between your legs inside me,” I snapped, baring my teeth at him and allowing all the hatred I felt to show for once. So long, I’d been forced to play submissive to the man who dictated my life.
But he couldn’t dictate what no longer existed.
The back of his hand cracked against my cheekbone, his signet ring cutting my cheek open on the spot that he’d already bruised earlier in the day. Darkness hovered at the edges of my vision as I sprawled to the floor.
“Get out of my fucking sight,” he said, leaving me to pick myself up and move toward the library doors. “You will pay for that tomorrow night, Estrella. We both know you’ll change your mind.”
I put my hands on the doors, ignoring the throbbing in my cheek as I shoved them open. Servants moved through the halls, panic on their faces as they paced. One shoved past me to enter the library, informing Lord Byron of his wife’s passing.
Death called my name next.
I would step willingly into his embrace.
5
My last night in my bed was spent staring at the ceiling. Even the bone-weary exhaustion that had claimed each and every one of my muscles couldn’t force me to sleep.
Rest eluded me, knowing that I’d be in the Void between lives in a matter of hours, and I had a brother and a mother sleeping down the hall with no idea how precious little time we had left together. The sun rose outside, the village sleeping a little bit later than usual with the harvest behind us. The festivities usually ran late into the night, with villagers surrounding the bonfires that they lit only one time during the year.
Celebration was frivolous and unnecessary, but it distracted people from the horrors of what they’d done. From the burning corpse on the pyre as a soul waited for reincarnation.
My bedroom door swung open and Brann stepped into the room as I slowly eased myself to a sitting position. “You’ve been out again,” he said, his voice full of accusation as he approached my bed.
Under normal circumstances, this would have been the moment when I denied sneaking out, because Brann hadn’t known about my meeting with Lord Byron. Without knowing exactly what would come of the conversation with the lord, I hadn’t wanted to worry my brother needlessly.