Page 28 of Gilded Curses

When she didn’t move with the others, Orin placed a hand on her back and nudged her forward. “I can’t watch this,” she whispered.

He kept his hand on her back as he bent to murmur in her ear. “Then close your eyes, but you have to join them.”

Sahira started to refuse, but she couldn’t cause a scene here. They would know how much this bothered her if she did, and these assholes would relish it. They’d probably drag out two more fighters and make her sit through that too.

Taking a deep breath, Sahira somehow managed to get her feet to move again as a small cheer ran through half the crowd while the other half groaned. They’re betting on this too.

She really shouldn’t have eaten as the once comfortable warmth of the day suddenly felt oppressive, her stomach lurched, and sweat trickled down her nape. She didn’t look at the fighters as she walked but focused on those empty chairs.

She could get through this if she remained fixed on them and the strength of Orin’s arm as it slipped around her waist. When her gaze shifted to Desmond, she discovered the monster watching them with amusement.

And it wasn’t her who amused him, as his attention was mostly on Orin. Oh, she was sure the prick enjoyed how much she disliked this, but her interactions with Orin entertained him far more.

The dark fae prince wasn’t supposed to care about the feelings of others. No dark fae did unless their feelings were involved too.

And while Orin didn’t understand his feelings for her and was fighting them, they were what made him so damn stupid when it came to his games with her. Instead of admitting he might like her, he pretended to screw a parade of women.

However, though he was an emotional disaster who had no idea how to handle possibly caring for someone else, his actions said he did care. When they first met, he would have left her standing there to fend for herself, but he didn’t do that, and he didn’t take away the comfort and support he offered her. Instead, his hand flattened against her belly.

But Desmond would use Orin’s feelings and uncertainty against him once he figured out how to do so. She was beginning to realize Desmond enjoyed his games as much as Orin; he just had much more help.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

“Come, join us!” Desmond called cheerfully as he waved at the empty seats beside him.

His eyes were a little bloodshot, but that was the only indication he had too much to drink yesterday. A goblet of something sat before him, but Sahira couldn’t see what it contained. At Desmond's side, Sheree kept her nose in the air while watching the show.

Orin sat beside Desmond, and as Sahira settled into her seat, she spotted the three small chairs on the shelf running across the front of the stage. When lifted onto the shelf by her and Elsa, the brownies reluctantly climbed onto the chairs as Elsa sat beside her and Zeth next to her.

Sitting stiffly in her chair, Sahira worked to keep her face impassive as the match continued and a bunch of cruel assholes surrounded them. Her skin crawled with revulsion as she focused on the hedges beyond the fighters, but she couldn’t shut out the sounds of their battle.

“What is going on here?” Orin asked.

Sahira felt it was obvious, but who knew how Desmond would respond? When the brownies turned to study the crowd, Sahira almost scooped them into her arms to cradle them protectively against her but kept herself from moving.

It would only piss off the small, prideful creatures if she did, and she didn’t want these monsters to realize how much they’d all grown to care for each other.

Who are you kidding? They already know.

That thought, and the certainty accompanying it, only made her chill and nausea worse.

“Another tournament.” Desmond beamed as he waved a hand at the fighters. “Like with all of you, only the strongest will survive.” He paused to study Orin with a pensive expression. “I bet you would be fantastic out there, Prince.”

Sahira’s hands clenched in her lap as panic sent her heart into hyperdrive, but Orin laughed as he lifted the goblet a servant set before him and sipped it. Sahira ignored the drink placed before her, as did the others.

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much entertainment for you,” Orin replied. “I don’t do graceful sword dances; I destroy.”

Desmond roared with laughter and slapped his thigh. “I must agree. You are not one for subtlety, are you, Orin?”

“Only when it benefits me.”

“Your brother is now king of the dark fae, or so I’ve heard.”

Sahira was very curious to know how he’d learned this if they couldn’t leave the realm, or maybe it was just them who couldn’t leave, but she doubted it. If the dagadon could leave, someone would have seen them. It was impossible for immortals such as these to go unnoticed in the realms; their sparkle didn’t exactly blend in.

She didn’t ask her question. These things would never give up their secrets.

“That was a nice way to say you know more about me than I do about you. I’m not the only one who isn’t into subtlety,” Orin said.