I force myself to meet her gaze. “I will not marry Etan.”
“Do you defy me, Iskvien?” There’s a strange chill in her voice.
I don’t want this to happen here, with Edain watching, but there’s no help for it.
“He’s a monster,” I blurt. “He’s cruel and—”
“I don’t care.” Movement flashes toward me and her fingers dig into my jaw. “I don’t care if Etan fucks you into the stone of the court. I don’t care if he locks you away in a tower. He will not harm you. He will not dare. But I set no limits on his being kind to you. If you were strong, if you had your magic, then you could make him sweat. Your weakness is your own fault. Your inability to force him to dance to your tune is your own fault. You want to be weak? Then you will suffer your own consequences.” She shakes her head. “I can give you everything, Iskvien, but you have failed me again and again and again. I must find some means to turn your birth to my advantage. You will not fail me this final time.”
“Mother,” Andraste starts.
Mother stabs a finger toward my sister, though she doesn’t tear her gaze away from me. “Not another word.”
I tear my chin free of her grasp. To speak now is dangerous, but I’m so fucking tired of biting my tongue. “If I am weak it is because you have made me so. I remember, Mother. I remember what you did to me.”
The blow snaps my head to the side, and I stagger back, fists coming up protectively to defend myself against the next one—
It never comes.
Instead, Edan is there, one hand manacled around my mother’s wrist. “My queen.”
“What?” she demands, violence seething through her green eyes. “You dare lay hands on me?”
“I dare urge caution.” He cuts me a sneer, but then he brings her hand to his lips. “The tent walls are thin and soldiers gossip. We don’t know how many of our people are loyal, and how many of them work for other queens. Maren’s no fool. She cannot hear of this. She cannot afford to see any bruises left on Iskvien’s skin.”
“Iskvien will heal.”
“Not before your meeting.”
Mother rips her wrist from his grasp and turns on her heels to pace, her skirts slithering after her. But there’s a thoughtful gleam in her eyes. “You’re right. You’re always right, my love.”
I don’t know if he just saved me from a true beating.
He despises me and the feeling is mutual.
But if he hadn’t interrupted just then….
A murderous look comes into her eyes and her smile becomes a sharp edge.
Oh no. I recognize that look.
“I cannot leave a mark on my dearest Iskvien’s skin,” she whispers, stalking toward me. “I can’t harm a hair on her head. You want to play these games, my dearest child? Then let us play them.”
Mother draws the jeweled knife from her hip and turns toward the stranger on his knees. Finn tilts his face toward her defiantly, and it’s not until she sets the tip of the knife to the hollow beneath his eye that I see the flicker of his pulse kick in his throat.
“No!” I lunge toward her, but a single bead of blood drips down his cheek and I freeze.
I remember this game.
I remember what she did to Nanny Redwyne, when my nurse begged for mercy for me.
“No, no, please. Don’t.”
The entire room is still.
Edain follows the movement of my mother’s knife like a charmed snake. Gone is the insolence, the grace, the lounging pet. Instead, he’s a coil of tension, prepared to move at a moment’s notice.
“Adaia,” he warns.
But I don’t know what he’s warning against.
Finn freezes, leaning back into her touch as if to escape the pressure of the knife. Maybe my urgency has finally made him realize this is no game.
“I offered the bastard of Evernight a trade,” my mother whispers with a savage glee. The knife digs into the flesh beneath Finn’s eye. “Maybe I’ll send him a little gift to convince him. What say you, Iskvien? Go ahead. Defy me. Tell me you won’t do as you’re told. Tell me you won’t marry Etan.” She throws her head back and laughs. “Every time you defy me, I’ll cut another piece off him.”
Her knife starts to slide through skin and Finn screams, jerking back into her, helpless with his hands bound behind him and the iron collar shackled around his throat.
“Maybe we’ll start with an eye.”
“Stop!” It’s a scream, a desperate pledge. “Stop! I’ll sign the marriage contract.” The words burst from my throat. “I’ll sign it.”
Mother stills. “What did you say?”
I slump to my hands and knees. I want to be sick.
“I’ll sign the marriage contract.” The words are dull. Empty. There goes my defiance. But first…. I look up. “Let him go. Unharmed. Promise me you will not hurt him and I will give you what you desire.”
“Oh, Iskvien.” She looks almost disappointed in me. “You’re so easy to manipulate. I promise.”
“Promise it thrice. On your power. On your throne.” Because I’m not falling for that trick.
“I promise that I will not hurt him.”
“Now or ever,” I counter. “You will not instruct any other hand to cause harm to him either.”
She concedes with a faint little smile, and repeats herself twice more.
I’ve earned some reprieve by holding her to account.
She hates my empathy, but she’d despise my stupidity even more.
“Done,” I whisper, as the magic of Mother’s oath sweeps around her and binds us together.
Mother shoves the stranger forward and he hits the ground face first. But I can see his wild eyes, finding mine. Blood drips from the little wedge she’s carved from the skin beneath his eye.
We stare at each other for a frozen moment.
I’m sorry, I want to say.
And I don’t even know what for, because I’m not the one who put him in chains. I have no power here. I can’t change his circumstances. I don’t even know who he is.
And to even breathe those words with my mother in the room will earn him more than an unkind death.
“Get up.” Mother steps over him and sweeps toward me as if she didn’t just threaten to cut his eye out, right in front of me. “Get up and straighten your skirts. You are my daughter and you will not appear before Maren looking like some slovenly slattern.”
I can barely breathe, but somehow my body pushes itself to its feet. I move like a puppet on her strings.
There has to be some way out of this mess.
I can’t just give in.
I won’t.
But… how?
I’ll sign the contracts, I promised. But I never said I’d marry him.
The world slows down around me as I lift my gaze to my mother.
She wants me to learn how to be manipulative?
She wants me to learn to play the game?
So be it. It’s a heady, unbalancing thought. I don’t even know what I can do, but now it feels like there are options out there if I can just find them.
“What am I supposed to do with him?” Edain calls, reminding us both of Finn’s presence.
Mother stills, casting the stranger a hard look.