Page 3 of To Kill a King
She spun away, out of his reach. “With my life?”
Her father’s jaw tightened as he glared at her. Dropping his voice with a quick glance at the closed door, he hissed, “If you don’t do this, we’re ruined.”
“No. You’re ruined. Why should I suffer for your bad decisions?”
His eyes flashed. An ugly flush mottled his features as he grabbed her by the shoulders. “I can’t control the wildfires that burn our fields, or the elves that raid our borders, killing our children and stealing our food. Your marriage guarantees us income and royal protection.” He released her with a thrust of barely controlled violence and spun away, pacing toward the hearth. “It’s not common knowledge yet, but the kingdom’s reserves are strained. Soon, the king will have to be more selective in how he allocates resources. Your marriage ensures the Larimars won’t be neglected.”
Her heart crashed to the floor. She grabbed the bedpost to steady herself. “You truly don’t care, do you? As long as you control Taldea Pass and the elves don’t attack your lands, nothing else matters.”
“Nothing else matters to our family. You’re eighteen, and a married woman now. Behave as such.” He turned and strode to the door. Resting his hand on the doorknob he spun to face her. “Don’t make a fool of yourself or embarrass me, or what I’ll do to you will be worse than anything your husband could.” He yanked the door open and disappeared. The sharp click of the deadbolt locking into place followed.
Her blood heated as ribbons of magic danced through her veins.
She crossed her arms and leaned a hip against the mattress. Fabulous. So, she was supposed to just sit here and await her fate?
Forget that.
If she could just get out of this room and sneak into the kitchen for some water, she could lose herself among the rest of the wedding guests with no one the wiser, and no one would ever see her again.
A furry black body leapt onto the duvet. “Meow!” It pawed at her.
“What do you want?” She brushed it away. “Leave me alone. I’m trying to figure something out.”
A soft paw swatted her. Hard.
“Hey!” She sat up, rubbing her head. “What?”
It peered at her for a heartbeat, then jumped to the floor and ran across the room to bat at a tapestry depicting hunters and a stag. It glanced back at her. “Mrow?”
On the other hand, maybe she’d been right about the cat having human emotions earlier. “Okay.” She wiped her cheeks and heaved herself from the bed. “What is it, kitty?” She pulled the edge of the rich cloth aside.
A door stared back at her.
Her heart leapt into her throat. Surely, they wouldn’t be stupid enough to put her in a room with an unlocked servant’s entrance. Malkov was far too smart for that.
She worked her fingers into the narrow latch and tugged. The door slid sideways on well-oiled tracks.
A supply closet greeted her, filled with a broom, mop, extra firewood and…
A porcelain jar of water for the washbasin.
The servants must have stashed it where she wouldn’t find it rather than pour it out the window. Less work for them to refill it later if they didn’t empty it in the first place.
She laughed as she lunged for the vessel and poured the liquid down her throat. It flowed over the rim and spilled down her neck, soaking the front of her dress. Tension unfurled in her chest as her body absorbed every bit of the fluid.
She wiped the last drips from her chin and studied the cat. “How did you know what I needed?”
Quicksilver eyes blinked back at her.
Eyes that matched her own.
Her heart skipped a beat. Could it be? Another shapeshifter?
“Meow!” The animal ran past her to the open window. It leapt onto the windowsill and stared at her pointedly before disappearing out the other side.
“Wait!” She lunged after it. “You’ll fall to your death!”
The cat was waiting for her, a mere arm’s length below, perched precariously on a lip of stonework no wider than three fingers that she’d missed earlier.