Page 66 of The Faceless Queen

It was the same look on his face when we were at the lake—when he saw me—a version of me that was impossible for him to know about, and I still didn’t understand.

I froze, my heart thundering. I felt naked and exposed under his gaze. Like he knew. Knew exactly what I was—who I was. But that was impossible. Brennan could only see Olivay standing before him. Nothing else.

His vision at the lake had been from nearly drowning—nothing else.

He smiled. “Enjoy the games, Princess.” He sounded genuine, like he truly did hope I found some joy in my evening.

I nodded, realizing one thing was certain. Brennan might not have felt any romantic love for Olivay. But he felt something. He already cared for her as a person, and he would make sure she was taken care of.

And I … Gods. I liked that about him. I liked feeling that I was important to him, that I’d be protected, even if it was only out of duty.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my stomach turning. Fuck! I had to stop this. That offer of protection and care from him would end the second our baby was in my belly.

Brennan looked to his father, sweeping his hand across his chest as he leaned forward in a neatly curt, yet royal bow. King Tirian, who sat on his makeshift throne, nodded quickly at his son. Brennan’s movements in response were tense, before he smiled at me once more.

“Princess,” he said, his eyes hooded and lingering, yet distant, before they focused. “Until I am lucky enough to see you again.” Then he turned abruptly and headed back down the stairs, leaving me.

“My, my, my,” the Hermit said, pulling me close. “That kiss. I haven’t witnessed such a passionate display in decades.”

“Don’t you mean centuries?” I spat.

He laughed and pretended to fan himself with his hand. “Have you been practicing? With the way things were looking between you two, I’m surprised you didn’t invite the crowd to be an early witness of consummation.”

My cheeks heated.

“Oh please,” he said. “Spare me your innocent dramatics. I know where you were employed all these years. What you were doing.” He made a clicking sound with his tongue, his eyes moving across the pavilion to the throne. “It’s come in handy. It seems our new king is rather pleased with how convincing your little performance was. But I can’t decide if you truly are that good of an actress—or, as I’m more inclined to believe, you were simply … enjoying yourself?”

That was it. Fire surged through my veins, and my body lunged forward, though there was hardly anywhere for me to go. We already stood so close. “You knew!” I hissed. “You knew the prince was Brennan all along. Knew exactly what I was swearing to do when I swore the oath when I agreed to—to … fuck.”

He smirked. “To fuck, indeed.”

I snarled.

Lord Brandon rolled his eyes. “Of course, I knew. I told you.” He shook his head. The usual snake-like shifts of his neck now stiff, as if he really were some stodgy old nobleman. “And you gave your poor, poor aunt such a hard time.” His eyes turned to slits, and for a second, I could see the Hermit peeking out of them. See the ancient male witch looking down on me. “You truly like your betrothed, don’t you?”

“You already knew that! And you knew I’d have to be the one to do it, to kill him. When I swore. Go to fucking hell.”

“If only I could.” He grasped my wrist in his hand, his hold light enough to not arouse suspicion around us, but enough for him to use whatever Godsdamned magic he possessed to make the blood oath scar ignite and burn in the veins of my arm.

The fire spread within, and tears welled in my eyes. “Let me go.”

“I will. When you understand one thing. Everything you do now is my fucking business,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Your ability to remain convincing in your role, and to stop the prophecy, depends on every little move you make, Olivay. Now get yourself together. Your father-in-law-to-be awaits your greeting.”

I shook my head, willing myself to be calm. “Why?” I asked. “Why did you let me believe it was Jaron?”

His dark brows drew together before he adjusted his face, becoming Lord Brandon once again. “I never let you believe a thing. You did that yourself. It’s not my fault that House Lafir can only think of one fucking name to gift all their sons. But I will tell you this. Who the prince was, and who you believed him to be, never mattered. You have a job to complete, and that hasn’t changed—even if your groom now just so happens to possess a face that is handsome enough to your liking.”

“It’s not just his face!” I snapped. It was him. All of him. I cared about Brennan. “He’s a good person. He doesn’t deserve to—to—” I looked away.

“Oh? You think I sentenced him to death? That I chose this? I just see what the Gods deign to show me, and then I do what I can to warn those who can shape things.” His eyes flashed. “Will you risk the lives of every innocent in Eley for him? For one man? One you barely know in this life?”

I squeezed my eyes shut.

“I didn’t think so. Remember that when your doubts creep in. Matters of the heart cannot stand in the way of your mission,” he said.

My skin burned, a fresh wave of pain emanating from the blood oath.

The Hermit’s face softened slightly. “I know you care for him. You care for many, more than you ought to. I think that’s why you’re here. So I will say only this as someone who has lived through enough lifetimes to learn some truths. My magic and knowledge run far deeper than you know. My prophecies always come to pass. Always. Though not necessarily in the way we understand them. That being said, House Lafir’s reign,” he hissed low, “Will end as it must, as it is destined. And when it does, it will be a direct result of your joining with the prince.”