Page 33 of Of Masks and Fury

“I understand you’ll soon hold a Day of Mercy,” Lord Alfred said.

I blotted my lips with my napkin, placing it on my lap after. “In less than two weeks.”

“What are your thoughts about forcing ashwine on your subjects?” Nowheappeared to be the conniving one. I’d dismissed him as being as foppish as Finley, but that could be a façade.

“I don’t like it,” I growled, then immediately realized what I’d said and how I’d behaved.

Silence rippled down the table.

“Amarissa,” Father warned.

Lord Alfred’s snort of laughter rang out, a rich, melodious sound. “Spirit! I admire that in a woman. Within reason, of course.”

Meaning as long as I bent to his will at all times, he’d indulge me on occasion before locking me back in a cage.

I wanted to stab him with my fork, and I was already planning three different ways to kill him with the butter knife.

A servant appeared at my elbow. “More wine, Your Highness?”

“Please.”

I needed something to do with my hands before I actually did stab someone.

My face ached from my forced smile.

Dessert arrived in a flourish of sugar and cream, delicate pastries that probably cost more than most families in the village earned in a month.

Lord Crestin leaned forward, his voice pitched low. “You know, Princess, you remind me of one of the wild horses that roam the upper region of my court that’s been penned up too long.”

I met his eyes, seeing the speculation there.

“Someone tried to tame you,” he added, “but it didn’t quite take. I find that intriguing.”

Lord Alfred’s hand landed on my thigh under the table, his fingers pressing into the silk of my gown, leaving invisible marks that made bile rise in my throat. This man’s hand felt foreign, invasive, wrong.

I removed it, laying it on the table where it belonged, though the sensation lingered, a reminder of what my father intended for my future.

“I assure you, my lord, I’m quite content where I am,” I told Lord Crestin.

“Are you?” His smile felt much too knowing. “Because from where I sit, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. One might even think you weren’t interested in being courted or married.” He slanted a glance at my father.

Lord Alfred’s lips twitched with amusement. He was enjoying watching Crestin rake me over the coals.

“My daughter will do as she’s told,” Father said, giving me a look full of warning.

Since I could still feel the memory of his whip across my back, I held in my flinch and gave him a polite smile.

I felt Trew’s reaction, however. The temperature in the room rose, his magic responding to the threat.

The candles blazed.

My father frowned, his gaze moving between Alfred, me, and the guards.

“How strange,” I said quickly. “There must be a draft in the room.”

My own control was fracturing. I could feel my magic building under my skin, responding to my anger and desperate need to be free of this trap.

Pherin, watching from a branch outside the window on my right, sent me thoughts of violence. Stating she’d gladly shift into her firecat form and claw out Crestin’s eyes. She’d bite Alfred’s hand off at the wrist and chuck it against a wall. I only needed to say the word.