Of Thorns and Beauty by Elle Madison

Chapter Forty-Nine

Ihate the turn this conversation has taken. I hate everything about Madame and the way she manages to slip her way into every last nook and cranny of my life, spreading her particular brand of devastation like wildfire.

But for all that I hate her, in this moment, I think I hate myself just a little bit more for asking him for this story.

"She poisoned them?" I phrase it like a question, although I already know the answer.

How better to punish the man who refused her advances, who refused to acknowledge her unearthly beauty, than to surround him with ugliness. There's only one thing I still don't understand.

"But she didn't poison you?"

He looks up at me with such fathomless remorse in his eyes that I am hit with a fresh wave of self-loathing for forcing him to relive the moment of his castle's downfall.

"Not for lack of trying," he mutters. "It was the day of the midwinter feast that I caught them. She told me she would leave quietly while everyone was preparing for that night. I thought she was protecting him. What Odger had done was punishable by death, but not without dragging her into it as well. I should have known she would never give up that easily."

He shakes his head, and I can tell he hasn't forgiven himself, even after all these years. Another thing we have in common, I suppose.

"For that matter, I should have seen how little she cared for anyone but herself. But I was so anxious to be finished with the whole affair, so I let her go.

"In the weeks she had spent here, we had dined every night in the hall together with my courtiers and staff, as was my father's custom, eating and drinking from the same table. She despised it, of course."

I can only imagine.

"She put it in the wine?" I guess.

"And the water," he adds. "But midwinter feast is the one time a year where I don't eat at the same time as my people, or before them. I wait until they are finished eating to get my own plate and drink. It's symbolic, putting their needs before mine."

He pauses, lost in the memory.

"To this day, I don't know if she knew that. If she was trying to punish me by inflicting something on my people that I was unable to protect them from, knowing how I feel about them.

“Or if it was an oversight, if it was only timing or a flair for the dramatic that made her choose that night and she was unaware that I would not be partaking." He lets out a huff of frustration.

I wish I could help, but truthfully, I'm not sure, either. Even if I was, I could hardly tell him without explaining my connection to her.

Madame had gleefully passed along stories of what a beast the king was, but she never offered any insights of her own, never indicating for a moment that she knew him personally. It's not surprising, since she hoards each of her precious secrets like a single drop of water in the center of an endless desert.

“In hindsight,” he interrupts my thoughts. “I see that she must have been plotting it all along, at least as a back-up plan. She never could have gotten it together so quickly, otherwise. Part of me even wonders if she wanted me to find her with Odger, to blame myself for putting it in motion.”

Another question I can’t answer, though I wouldn’t put it past her. The woman deceives as easily as she breathes. There is nothing solid I can tell him.

What's worse, though, is realizing how many more unanswered questions I will leave him with when I go.

He seems to have lost himself in his thoughts again. I speak to pull him out of his reverie.

"And this?" I ease my hand out of his and move it back toward his chest. This time, he allows it, though his gaze carefully follows the movement of my fingers.

“This," he says, entwining our fingers together around the key. "Is all the hope we have left."

I hadn't fallen asleep until well after the king, but I still wake before he does.

My subconscious has clearly indulged in every craving my conscious mind denies, fusing my body so closely against his that I can hardly tell where one of us begins and the other ends. I am warmer than I have been since I arrived in this place, maybe warmer than I have been since I was taken from home all those years ago.

I gently disentangle myself, yawning and stretching my limbs. I open my eyes to find Einar's appreciative gaze on me. I'm sure I don't mistake the hungry look I find there, but before either of us can act on it, my stomach growls with an entirely different sort of hunger.

I let out a small laugh, but he looks at me with concern.

"When was the last time you ate anything?"

I am so used to going without meals that I haven't honestly thought about it, but I'm not about to explain to him, so I just shrug.

"On the ride back yesterday?" I guess.

He frowns, and I try not to be disappointed when he rolls out of bed. He strides to the door, opening it a couple of inches to speak to whoever is on the other side. I catch the word breakfast before Khijhana interrupts him, putting her nose in the space and shoving the door open wide enough to allow for her frame.

I appreciate Einar's attempts at discretion, but they will certainly know I slept in here now. Though, why I should care when we are husband and wife is beyond me.

"She needs to go outside," I call quietly to the slightly bewildered-looking king. "Usually one of my guards does it," I offer.

He blinks a couple of times, and then nods and finishes his brief conversation before closing the door and coming back to me.

"I suppose I never thought about how she was taking care of her business," he says.

"Speaking of..." I trail off, padding toward the door to his privy.

He looks at me strangely, and for a moment, I wonder if he objects to my using his facility. Then I realize, I shouldn't know where it is. It is in the most obvious place, though, so I pretend not to notice his scrutiny and head in, shutting the door behind me.

I had only popped my head in for a moment when I was snooping through his rooms before, but now I can truly appreciate the opulence. Although there is a large bronze bathing tub, similar to the one in my chambers, there is also a curious section in the corner.

Stone covers the walls in a large rectangular area a few feet high, and a bronze faucet of some sort hangs from the ceiling.

"What is that in the corner of your bathing chamber?" I ask him when I come out.

"I'm not sure there is really a name for it. My father liked to design things, so he had the faucet installed for when he came in from a day of outside work. The water drips down from the top and gathers into a drain so that the dirt and grime don't sit in the tub."

That was all well and good, but there was something far more enticing to me about the structure than the cleanliness of it.

"And no water pools in it?" I reiterate hopefully.

"Right, it all goes right down the drain." He takes in my expression, and his lips draw into a slow smile. "Would you like to try it?"

My mouth goes dry, because I'm not sure if he is offering for me to use it or asking if I would like to try it with him, and I'm not at all sure that I trust myself to choose the right option if I am presented with both. He solves that problem for me, though.

"I'll get you some clothes from your room and wait for breakfast," he says, leaving and pulling the door mostly closed.

That's the right answer. I'm sure it is. Then why is there a tiny, ugly thing inside of me rearing its head…something that feels a lot like rejection?