by Tracy Deebs
Page 36
Yes, but you don’t know her like I do. I’ve spent four months trying to figure out what you did on that ship and I still don’t know. But whatever it was, she’s in bad shape. I don’t know that she’ll ever make it back to where she was.
So that’s what this is all about? I demanded as the puzzle pieces slid into place. You want the throne here as a way to hedge your bets in case Tiamat doesn’t make it back?
Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so mercenary.
I shuddered in disgust. It is mercenary.
So it is. But it’s also practical, Tempest. After all, I wasn’t cut out for a pauper’s lifestyle.
I’m sure you weren’t. But you’re already on the way to getting whatever you want, right? I mean, you seized the throne right out from under me and you’re about half a step from eliminating me completely. Amazing how easy it got to talk about your own death after a while. Like it was a foregone conclusion. I pushed the horror of that thought away and continued. So I still don’t know what we’re doing here or why you would want to marry me. It doesn’t make sense.
It makes perfect sense. Yes, I have the throne now. But everyone knows I’m not the legitimate heir. You are.
Some will argue that the legitimate heir to any throne is the one who can seize it and keep it.
Exactly. But not all of them. That’s where you come in. I need you to ensure that I can keep the throne. The people might be pissed at you now for running out on them, but the first time something bad happens or I do something unpopular or hell, I don’t know, one of them stubs their big toe, they’re going to start remembering that I wasn’t supposed to be king. That there was another choice out there and that she was a very viable choice, one with an amazing amount of power and the ability to protect them. You have to admit, that’s pretty powerful stuff. But if you were already here, already married to me and ruling from the position of merQueen, the position that was always meant to be yours, well then …
Your future is guaranteed.
He shrugged. Something like that.
And what about Tiamat? What’s she going to do when she finds out you betrayed her? She isn’t exactly known for her forgiving nature.
By the time the old hag figures out what’s going on, you and I will be married, our powers will have merged, and she won’t stand a chance against us. Besides, having you on my side pretty much guarantees that the rest of the clans will fall into line behind us. We won’t have any shortage of help to defeat her, even if she manages to pose a credible threat.
Wow. You really have thought this out.
He gave a little bow. We aim to please.
There’s only one problem that I can think of, I told him.
Which is?
I would rather die than have anything to do with your sick, twisted, diabolically evil plans. So I’m afraid this whole marriage thing—I moved my finger back and forth between us several times—really isn’t going to work.
That wiped the self-satisfied smirk off his face. Oh, it’s going to work, Tempest. Of that much, I can assure you.
How? You have to have my permission first, and that is not going to happen.
Isn’t it?
There was something about his voice, about the look in his eyes, that was terrifying as hell. But I refused to let it influence my answer. After all, trusting Sabyn was a death trap, pure and simple. Better to die now when I was expecting it than by a knife in the back six months or six years from now when I wasn’t.
There were some things that were acceptable during war that weren’t acceptable any other times. Things like leaving my family behind, lying to my friends, breaking Mark’s heart. And then there were some things that would never be acceptable no matter what was going on. Marrying Sabyn to get control of a merkingdom that had obviously decided it didn’t want me as a ruler was not an acceptable thing to do. Nor was it smart.
In fact, even in the grand scheme of things, it was a pretty heinous suggestion, just the thought of which brought the nausea I’d been feeling right back around to the forefront.
No, Sabyn, it isn’t. I don’t marry men who slam my face into walls, chain me in dungeons, try to kill me, or plot to destroy everything that I’ve worked so hard for over the last year. I paused. And that’s just what you’ve done today.
His eyes narrowed as he fished around in the picnic basket. You know, I tried to make this good for you. I brought you a picnic, treated you like an equal, even picked out a ring for you. As he said the last, he held out a small, glass waterproof box.
I physically recoiled, nearly slammed back against the wall in my need to get away from what was in that box. Put it away, I told him, my voice as shaky as my nerves. For the first time since this whole farce started, it occurred to me that he was actually serious. That he expected me to marry him.
That wasn’t what scared me, though. What had me shaking was Sabyn’s track record in getting things that he wanted. He was a master manipulator and a sociopath—I had seen him in action when he first came to Coral Straits four months ago, and nothing that had happened since had changed my mind. He didn’t know how to take no for an answer when he wanted something. And I was completely at his mercy.
When it became obvious that I wasn’t going to open the box, Sabyn sighed heavily. And then did the honors himself.
Most of the room was still dark, but the lantern he’d brought with him cast a rosy pool of light around Sabyn and his picnic basket, so I got a clear look at the ring. It was magnificent: a giant, teardrop-shaped diamond was the center stone, but the ring itself was channel set with alternating diamonds and sapphires. It was a ring fit for a merQueen and it scared the hell out of me. As far as bonds went, I’d rather wear the chains than that thing.
Let’s see if it fits, shall we? He swam closer to me.
You don’t seem to understand, Sabyn! I’m not going to marry you.
No, Tempest, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You don’t have a choice. He grabbed my hand, jammed the ring onto my finger. I pulled it off, threw it as hard as I could, then watched—with him—as it sank into the darkness several feet away.
Sabyn turned, cocked his head like he was studying me. That was a singularly stupid move, Tempest. And then he lashed out, slamming a fist into my stomach hard enough to bring up the kelp bar I’d worked so hard to force down.
He stepped back and watched with distaste as I vomited. When I was done, he handed me a waterproof napkin from the picnic basket so that I could wipe my mouth. I should have known you’d choose to do things the difficult way. You always do. But don’t say I didn’t try to make it nice for you.
And then he was grabbing me, forcing me back against the wall. I screamed, kicked and bit and clawed and hit, but he was stronger, meaner, and more than willing to hit back as hard as he could. Within minutes I found myself chained to the wall again, my ears ringing from a particularly hard blow to the head.
What are you going to do? I demanded. Keep me chained down here forever? I was trying to sound tough, but the words came out slurred, even just going from my mind to his. Which seemed like a problem, but I was so tired and dizzy that it was hard to work up any serious concern. Which actually seemed reasonable, because, next to marrying Sabyn, my head injury seemed like small potatoes.
You’d be surprised what I can do, Tempest. But not for long. He walked forward, a wicked-looking syringe in his hand.
