Curse of the Thorn King: A Steamy Beauty and the Beast Retelling (Wayfarer Fae Book 1) by Lisette Marshall

Author:Lisette Marshall [Marshall, Lisette]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2023-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

One should never sacrifice sincerity for a misguided notion of politeness or kindness. Instead, if your intimacy will allow it, you should strive to deliver an unpleasant truth in the gentlest manner possible.Lady Lockwell’s Handbook of Etiquette

Moridyr made his way down the broad central stairs with heavy feet and a nagging headache building behind his dead eye.

Lack of sleep, he tried to tell himself, but he knew there was little substance to that explanation; with no one to expect him to rise or sleep at the usual times of the day, his diurnal rhythm had known odder patterns over these lonely years at Rosethorn Keep. It was rather that one little sentence that sung through his mind like an unwelcome lullaby, all the more sharp-teethed for the sincerity with which she’d spoken it.

I’m not sure I could forgive you.

And so, like the coward he was, he’d caved.

She deserved to know. She had to know. It was cruel madness to allow her to hold hope while he already knew her plan would come to naught. But he knew damn well the roses wouldn’t be so easily assuaged, not after he’d looked for the solution to the same damn problem for decades, and as long as neither of them could leave the Keep … well, she wouldn’t find out how unwelcome she was in Elidian, either.

Which meant that, in theory, she might as well not know.

He muttered a curse, rubbing his temple. The theory so rarely matched reality, he’d found over the course of the centuries.

But he might still be able to redeem himself; it was that realisation that had eventually sent him out of his chair and down through the silent, Briannis-less halls of Rosethorn Keep. Her return to the city might not be as utterly impossible as he’d thought based on the mirror’s information of the previous day. Cyril did not intend to let her in again, but what if there was some magic that could smuggle her through the gates without him noticing? Some fae trick to give her the money she needed without the Princeps’ permission? If something could still be done, it wouldn’t be so bad that he hadn't told her yet. After all, the conditions she’d set in order to stop trying to kill him – the conditions he’d agreed to – could still be met.

If the roses ever retreated, through whatever unexpected change of circumstances, she could still return to the city as planned. It would just require a little extra effort to circumvent Cyril’s devious intentions.

He nonetheless descended the stairs to Mirror Hall more slowly than usual.

It was as if he saw the Keep with entirely new eyes as he made his way down – the mosaic floors, the luminescent mushrooms, the twinkling lights hiding between the leaves and flowers. What did she see when she walked these enchanting corridors? A prison? A trap? A strange and temporary fever dream?

Not home. Perhaps that was all he needed to know.

I’m not sure I could forgive you.

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