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“No.”
“Carleah, you have no choice. You were betrothed well before the fall of Navalis, and we need that alliance now more than ever.”
Hot tears fill my eyes at the sting of his betrayal. “I will not marry him. You cannot make me.”
“Carleah,” he starts, his anger deflating. “I know all too well about doing what you don’t want to for the good of the kingdom. But these are our burdens. You must marry Patrick. Father promised him your hand, and as King of Navalis, I need to follow through on that promise.”
“King of Navalis.” I shake my head and step back from him. “You should be better than him; instead you’re picking up the reins right where he left off.”
“I’m sorry, Carleah.”
“So am I. But I’m not marrying Patrick. When Fort is healed, he and I are leaving. And there’s not a damned thing you can do about it.”
“Fort’s loyalty is to the crown, Carleah. He will obey my orders.”
I laugh, but there is no humor in it. “Fort’s loyalty stopped being to the crown when we fell in love. He will not allow this to happen. And neither will I.”
“Love?” Bowman steps toward me. “Did he—have you—”
“Had sex? Oh yes. So if your plan hinges on me being untouched, well, that ship has already sailed.”
Bowman’s cheeks turn crimson. “That son of a bitch—”
“It was as much my idea as his. Hell, it was more my idea. But the fact still stands. I want to be with Fort. I will be with Fort.”
“Carleah. What you are saying would put us at odds with Soreno in a time where our very survival relies on their mercy. Can you not think of anyone but yourself?”
“Anyone but myself—”
“Yes!” he interrupts. “It was always what Carleah wanted. What Carleah felt she deserved! Neither of us wants to be where we are right now, but there’s not a damned thing we can do that will change it. Not desire. Not love. Not what you believe you deserve. Our only hope is to get to Soreno and hope they offer us aid—even as you’ve strayed from your damned promise to their future king.”
“You cannot force me to marry him.”
“I am your king,” he snaps. “And I can.”
“I am a queen, dammit!”
“Yet, you sit on no throne,” he snaps. “I am a king by birth; you are one that was created by legend. But when you marry Patrick, you will be a true queen.”
I rear back and slam my fist into his jaw. Bowman stumbles back, and three guards rush forward. Even as I prepare to fight them all—and likely lose—my brother throws a hand up, dismissing them.
“Always behaving like an immature child, Carleah. I would have thought the life experiences over the past few months would have hardened you to reality.”
“You are not my brother,” I say. “I would have expected this from father. Alex. But never you.”
“We are products of the trauma we face,” he replies cooly. “I am merely stepping up into my place.”
“We are not products of the trauma we face,” I snap. “But rather how we choose to move forward. You are choosing this path whether you believe it or not. And no matter what you say, I will not let you drag me down with you.”
I turn on my heel, but Lacrae steps into my path.
“Carleah—”
“Get out of my way, Lacrae,” I warn. “You just continue lying to me, and I have no patience for whatever nonsense comes from your silver tongue next.” I shove past him and head off into the dark.
Shadow falls into step beside me, the horse seemingly appearing from nowhere. Which, I suppose, solves the mystery of his name. My chest is heavy, my breathing ragged as the claws of panic close in around me.
I’m honestly not even sure why. It’s not as if I’ve ever had control over my own destiny. But I’d truly believed that Bowman would stand beside me. That it would matter what I wanted. I am not a prize to be handed over, dammit.
