Her fork fell from her suddenly slack grip to clatter against her plate. “What?”
“I mean, I can’t deny Jude and Orlann access to you. The council was clear that you’re for all three of us to breed. But there’s nothing in the peace accord that says you can’t marry one of us.” He shrugged. “You like me to be here when Orlann’s with you anyway, right?”
Maari nodded, numb.
“I can take care of you, when you’re not with one of my brothers. Or even when you are. I can help raise your children, whether they’re mine or not. My suite is plenty big enough, and if we outgrow it, we can always expand into the ones on either side.” He leaned forward and grabbed her hand, clearly excited by the prospect. “Knock down a few walls. Reallocate some space. Annah can come, of course. And between the two of us, you won’t be lonely anymore, while we wait for you to get pregnant.”
“Malac, I—” Maari bit off her response while she considered her phrasing, well aware that she couldn’t just shoot him down. As Defense Commander, Malac probably only heard the word “no” from one person, and she was not that person. “Do you really think Jude would go along with that?”
Jude seemed to think his claim to her outranked Orlann’s and Malac’s, and he was the king.
“Why would he say no? He has a wife. And it’s not like he’d have to stop fucking you. This way everyone gets what they want,” he insisted, while Maari’s head spun. “Geneva won’t be jealous of you, because you’ll be mostly mine. Jude won’t have to feel guilty about ‘coming and going.’”
Not that Maari believed Jude felt guilty about anything. Ever.
“Orlann won’t give a shit, as long as he still gets his playtime. And you!” Malac’s smile was dizzyingly bright. “You’ll get a beautiful wedding and a gorgeous dress.” He preened a bit, with his hand over his heart, as the first terrifying wave of vertigo washed over Maari, making her wobble in her chair. “A handsome, royal groom, willing to make an honest woman of you. You won’t just be a concubine anymore. You’ll be my wife! You’ll have everything you ever wanted!”
Could he possibly think that was really what she wanted?
“How…um how would that work? Our marriage would be public knowledge? I would get to leave the palace? Travel? Make appearances?”
Malac frowned. “Why would you need to do that? You have everything you need here, and my suite is much bigger than this. You can redecorate it. Make it your own. You can have anything you want to wear, or eat, or drink—at least until you get pregnant.” He winked at her. He actually winked! “I’ll spoil you rotten.”
Maari’s stomach began to twist with the realization that he was no longer speaking in hypotheticals. To Malac, this marriage was already a given.
“But would I—” She paused, then she started over, to emphasize the hypothetical nature of her question. “Would I get to represent Loborough in public? Like Geneva? Would I be…acknowledged? As a member of the family, rather than as a prisoner or a concubine?” Being part of the fucked up Camden family wasn’t truly something she wanted. Yet it was infinitely better than being locked away from the world. Forgotten.
“Well, that part would be up to Jude, I guess. I don’t think he’d want you and Geneva at events together, as long as he’s fucking you, but not her. But even if he doesn’t let me take you out, there’s plenty for you to do here at the palace, and you’ll have access to much more of it with me at your side. This place could be our private playground, like it was for me, as a kid!” Malac squeezed her hand again. “My situation was a lot like yours, when I was growing up here. I was loved by everyone but the queen. Excluded from public events and outings. But my father made sure I had the run of the palace. That I was indulged, just like his other kids. And I can do the same thing for you.”
“So, when you say you want to marry me, what you mean is that you want me to move into your suite, so that you have access to me whenever you want, as long as Jude and Orlann don’t want me?”
“It won’t be as one-sided as you’re making it sound. You’ll have access to me too. And to anything else you want.”
Maari’s heart ached. “Unless what I want is privacy. Or permission to leave the palace. Or a little fucking dignity.”
Malac’s gaze hardened. He let go of her hand and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not good enough for you. That’s your real complaint, isn’t it?”
“No, I—” Warning bells went off in Maari’s head.
“Because I’m a bastard, and you’re a princess with a title and a surname, and… And what?” He stood with too much force, and Maari flinched when his chair fell over with a thud, rejection visibly chafing him. “What else do you have? Your brother sold you. He cut you off. He stripped you of your authority, threw you out of your stead, and gave you to a king who can’t bring himself to truly be with you, but can’t bear to give you up. You’re penniless. Helpless. Scared. You have nothing left but a beautiful face and a fucking addictive pussy, yet you think you’re too good for me?”
“No.” Maari stood, arms out to pull him close, before it was too late. Before his anger set in and made him dangerous. “I don’t think that. I—”
“I offer you everything I have. Everything I can possibly give you, and all you can do is whine about things that aren’t mine to give.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.”
“Jude is the only one who can give you what you’re asking for, and he’s never going to do that, no matter how good you are in bed. No matter how many brats you pop out for him. He’s never going to marry you, Maari, even if he loves you. Because you’re nothing but a spoil of war. A way to punish your entire fucking kingdom for killing my father. If he ever stops punishing you, then Stead Delayne will have gotten away with it. And he can’t let that happen. So guess what? I’m your only choice. It’s me and the slice of a real life I can offer you, or it’s this room, for the rest of your life.”
“You.” Tears poured down Maari’s face as she reached for him, fear twisting like vines into every dark crevice of her soul. Malac was the closest thing to an ally she had, other than Annah, and if she lost him… “I choose you. Of course I choose you.”
But he stepped out of her reach. “I’m going to have to think about that.” He was angry—offended—but beneath that, she could see little flashes of pain peeking out at her. She’d hurt him, this man who’d planned the deaths of thousands of her countrymen. Who would orchestrate the deaths of a million more, if Jude told the council he was unhappy with her commitment to the peace accord. “I’ll be back, if I decide I still want you.”
Malac stormed out of her room and slammed the door, and as the sharp thud echoed through the room—through her heart—Maari fell to her knees and sobbed.
Several minutes later, the door creaked open again and she sat up, wiping tears from her cheeks. Expecting to see Malac, having come back to forgive her. Or Annah, having been sent to dry her tears.
The small blond head that appeared in the crack, as her door opened, took her completely by surprise. “Why are you crying?” Rosa asked as she stepped into the room, her arm still outside the door, where she evidently still clutched the exterior doorknob.
Maari’s gaze snapped to the opening above her head, waiting for Geneva to appear and drag her daughter away. Or for Jude to appear and yell at them both. When neither of those happened—when no one, in fact, seemed to have any idea that Jude’s daughter had found his concubine’s room again—Maari stood and dried her face with both hands. “Hi. Rosa, right?”
“Yes. I’m Princess Rosa Leanna Camden, of Stead Camden.” And she seemed very proud of having memorized her entire title. “Who are you?”
Maari took several steps toward her, trying not to frighten the child in her eagerness to get to the door, while she still held it open. “I’m a princess too. A guest of your father’s. And your uncles’. Do you remember me from before?”
Rosa nodded. “Your Daddy’s pretty friend.”
“Thank you. I have a new dress!” Rosa began to swish her hips, showing off the fluffy flare of her skirt. “See, when I twirl, it goes—”
“No!” Maari cried, as Rosa spun all the way around, releasing her hold on the door. “Don’t let it close!” She sprinted toward the child and slid her hand between the door and its frame at the very last second.
“What’s wrong?” Rosa frowned up at her. “Are you sad?”
“I’m feeling much better, now that you’re here.” Maari stuck her foot in the door jamb, to stop it from closing, then she knelt to smile at the little princess. “And you know what would make me feel even better? A walk in the garden. Do you know how to get there?”
Rosa gave her a wide-eyed nod.
“Can you show me?”
“Sure! I’m not allowed to go outside by myself, but you’re a grownup, right?”
“Yes. Yes I am.” Maari stood again, glancing around her room. She wouldn’t stand much of a chance on her own, with nothing but the dress she was wearing, but she hadn’t been given anything useful, like shoes. Her meal hadn’t even come with a knife. And every second she spent trying to decide what to take with her was a second someone would be looking for Rosa. Or spying on Maari, through one of the cameras she had yet to spot in her room. “Let’s go!” Maari stood and took the child’s hand. “And let’s play a game, okay? Let’s pretend we’re running from a bad guy, and we have to get to the garden as quickly and as quietly as possible.”
“Yeah!” Rosa slapped her free hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling. “I mean ‘yeah!’” she whispered. Then she led her new friend into the hall.
Maari’s heart thudded almost painfully as her bedroom door closed behind her, but she had no time to reflect on the wisdom of what she was doing—of running when she had little chance of actually getting away—before Rosa started tugging her down the corridor.
She would probably be caught; she knew that. But she had to try. Because she might never get another chance.
Rosa giggled as she snuck Maari down the stairs and through several lengths of hallway to the large sunroom looking out over the formal garden. Adrenaline burned like fire in her veins as they slipped through an unlocked door onto the very stone path Maari had walked with Jude three months before, on the worst afternoon of her life.
“Thank you!” She knelt to whisper to the little princess. “Thank you so much! I’m going to take a long walk in the garden, but I have a feeling your parents don’t know you’re out here. Is that right?”
Rosa gave her a solemn nod.
“Okay then, I need you to go back inside and find your mom. But maybe you could keep this between us? Just our little secret?” Jude would know exactly how she’d gotten out when he watched the footage, but every minute Rosa’s silence bought her would be a mercy.
“Can I walk with you?” Rosa asked. “My mommy won’t mind.”
“Oh, I think she would. She’s probably looking for you right now, don’t you think?” Maari said, as a ticking clock counted down seconds of freedom in her head. Rosa gave her a hesitant nod. “Okay, then, we’ll take a walk together next time. For now, just go find your mommy please!”
“Okay.” Rosa reluctantly headed inside, where she stared out at Maari with her forehead and both palms pressed to the glass.
Maari gave her one more smile. Then she took off through the garden as fast as she could run.
16
Jude
Malac burst into his private study without a single knock of warning. “She’s gone.”
“What?” Jude stood from his chair in front of the fireplace, where he’d been sipping whiskey while he dealt with the communications his staff had forwarded for his personal attention. “Who’s gone?”
“Maari.” Malac looked at him as if that should have been obvious. “We had a fight, and I went back to see if she was ready to apologize, and her room was empty.”
“What?” Thunder rolled through Jude’s voice as he dropped his com device on the table to his right, jostling his drink, and dug another, smaller one—the one dedicated to watching Maari—from his pocket. “You’re sure she wasn’t just in the bathroom?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
Jude pulled up the network of live feeds from Maari’s room and scrolled through them. “Where the hell is her handmaid?”
“In the dorm. I didn’t send her in when I left, because I thought Maari could use a little time alone to think about things.”
“To think about what?” Jude selected the widest available view of her room and scrolled back through the footage.
“I said I’d marry her, and she didn’t seem thrilled with the idea at first.”
“You what?” Jude looked up, and the footage paused as his finger lost contact with the screen. His hand clenched around the device, and it creaked from the strain. “You can’t marry her, Malac. Why the hell would you fuck with her head like that?”
“I fucked with her head? Fuck you! I meant it. I’m going to marry—”
“The hell you are.” Jude stood, and rage formed an almost visible halo of aggression around him. “She’s mine.”
“You have a wife!”
“Yes, and I have Maari too. You should be fucking grateful for every second I let you spend with her, because she is—”
“She’s not going to be anything to either of us, if we don’t find her.”
Jude snarled and turned back to his device. He dragged his finger farther back on the timeline, playing the footage in reverse. “Fucking hell,” he cursed, when Maari first appeared on the screen, walking backward into the room from the hall—holding his daughter’s hand. “Rosa let her out.”
“Where the hell did they go?”
“I think I know.” But Jude pulled up more feeds as he stormed from his office, tracing Maari’s progress through the palace until she got to the sunroom. “She’s in the garden.” Only she probably wouldn’t be, anymore.
He slid the device into his pocket and turned a furious look on Malac. “I’ll bring her back. Go fill Orlann in, and have him come up with something to teach her a lesson. This cannot go unpunished.” Then Jude took off for the garden at a sprint.
Three minutes later he burst through the sunroom door onto the very stone path he’d watched Maari race down on his com screen. Of course, she was nowhere to be found, and she’d passed out of the last camera range a full minute before he got to the garden. But he knew where she’d gone.
There was only one way out of the garden, without going back into one wing of the palace or another: the hunting grounds.
Jude took off through the gate after her, cursing his clean white button-up shirt and business shoes as branches slapped his face and snagged his clothes. But if he were suffering in inappropriate attire, Maari would have it much worse. She didn’t own a pair of shoes, and if Jude had to guess, he’d say she’d never spent a single hour in untamed woods in her entire life. Not without a catered picnic basket and a professional wilderness guide, anyway.
The furious king intentionally took the path of least resistance, letting the forest guide him the same way it had no doubt guided a barefoot, adrenaline-fueled princess too ill-equipped to fight through the thicker patches of brush. He moved as quickly and as quietly as he could, and before long, he could hear her, huffing up ahead, on the dirt trail.
There was no way she could make out his steps over her own labored breathing, so Jude sacrificed stealth for a burst of speed, and in moments, he could see her, a flash of red racing down the path. He sniffed the air, and the infection linking them—the lingering influence of his bite—helped him home in on her scent, mentally separating it from the olfactory buffet that was the forest.
She smelled scared. And she was bleeding. But she was whole and largely unscathed, despite the wildlife that prowled the royal hunting grounds and the handful of royal cousins and uncles who had b
lanket permission to wander around with rifles, asserting their manhood and claiming trophies to be mounted.
Thank the gods she was wearing bright red. Still, she could easily have been shot. Or mauled. If Malac had found her missing an hour later, she could have made it all the way through the forest, to disappear into one of the villages surrounding the palace.
He could have truly lost her.
Jude forced another burst of speed from his legs, and a grunt tore free from his throat as he gained on her. Alerted to his presence, Maari turned to look over her shoulder, and terror widened her eyes. She spun around again, huffing as she put everything she had into her escape, despite the blood he could smell seeping from cuts in her bare feet. From scratches on her arms.
She fought hard for her freedom. She ran as fast as she could. But it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough. Because Jude could not give her up.
He tackled her from behind, driving her to the ground with a thud of impact and the oof of air being forced from her lungs. He held her there, pinning her with his weight, and when she opened her mouth to scream, she sucked in a mouthful of dust instead.
Maari tried to cough, to expel the dirt she’d inhaled, but with his weight pressing into her, she couldn’t get a deep enough breath. “Please,” she wheezed. “Please, Jude.”
But instead of letting her up, he rose onto his knees, straddling her thighs, one hand pressed into the center of her back, to hold her in place. The moment she was relieved of his weight, she sucked in a deep breath, then immediately expelled it, along with the fresh mouthful of dust that had come with it. She coughed, fighting for a clean breath, saliva dripping from her mouth as she tried to spit dirt out.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Jude demanded, as the hand pinning her began to slide gently down her back. Fulfilling his need to touch her. To make sure she was still whole. Reassuring him that she was still here. Still real.
Dirty Lovely Broken Page 20
