Page 8 of Potent Desire

How could he set this up without discussing any of it with me? On his admission of what’s to come, my mind races to the years we’ve known Vik. How he’d whisper sweet nothings into my ear when my father left us alone. How he’d take me away from this place, this life, and get me to safety.

It was a dream I always wished would come true. Only, if I knew this was how it was going to happen, I’d have cut him down then. Now, I feel lost, and flung into obscurity. My own father won’t help me, and is throwing me to the hounds.

Tears well in my eyes. A pit grows in my belly. I can’t believe what’s happening. I have to give myself to Vik willingly? Become the bride of some old bastard for political gain? No. I can’t.

“It’s already done, Isabella,” Papa sounds angry. His word is law, always has been. “Arrangements have been made and I expect you to honor them. Do you understand me?”

“You can’t make me do this,” I shout.

His reply is a backhand against my cheek that leaves my head spinning and my ears ringing. A rapturous roar tears through papa. The King’s famous temper.

As soon as he realizes what he’s done, he’s upon me again. His arms wrapped around my shoulders, his hand stroking my head. “I’m sorry, Baby. I didn’t mean to.” His voice is soft, trying to settle me.

“How could you do this to me?” I ask.

“I’m not doing it to you. I’m doing it for you,” Papa replies. “You’re just going to have to trust me.”

I just stand there holding my stinging cheek. I didn’t choose to be born into this life, and now it’s spreading its poisoned roots through me like cancer. There’s nothing I can do but buckle down and accept my fate.

I weep into Papa’s chest, tears staining his shirt. I’m just another prop in his game.

Happy birthday to me.