Married by Treachery Read online

  Until he eventually fell asleep.

  14

  Jake had the dreams again. Of holding Raquel, of watching their children. Only this time, those children had names: Adi and Ronan. And while Ronan had the sharp features of their kith, the light stride and aristocratic air, Adi was the reflection of her mother, in body and in spirit.

  And how Jake loved Adi.

  It struck him that he should know what it was, this strange feeling that filled his chest to near bursting. This overwhelming urge to protect—that he would do anything to see her thrive.

  Even sacrifice his own life.

  Jake woke with this single thought haunting him, compounded by the warmth of the woman currently asleep in his arms.

  Raquel.

  It was still dark, and she slept on her side, her back to him with Jake curled around her. His arm was over her waist, holding her protectively close, as he’d done in his dream, and he breathed in her hair. It smelled of spring, of fresh flowers and tall grass and sunlight. Something he had not smelled in ages, and it stirred something deep inside of him.

  No.

  Jake released his hold, rolled onto his back, and closed his eyes, pressing his fingertips into them.

  Fates.

  He had not come all this way to be thwarted by dreams and a pair of summer-sky eyes. He hadn’t lied to Raquel about the riddle. He just hadn’t given her all of it:

  Through blood, by blood, may your sins be paid

  Spent from a mortal heart, the heir must claim.

  A babe wrought by harvest’s light,

  And virgin be, by immortal’s sight,

  Who holds the only road to your salvation.

  He didn’t just need the affections of her heart; he also needed its blood.

  It had been the same for Edom, though after five failed bride sacrifices, Jake and his mother had begun to wonder. Perhaps “claim” meant more than just the physical act of cutting a heart open. The Fates’ meanings were so often convoluted and misunderstood.

  Perhaps the heir needed to “claim” her affections as well, which was not something Edom could ever do.

  So Jake’s mother got an idea. Maybe Jake should try. Let her worry about transferring the birthright. But after Jake stole the last bride from his brother and hid her away at his mother’s, only for her to escape into the mist and intercept a horde of Depraved, Canna endured seven more years of rot and decay. More and more of their people were added to the fallen, and King Issachar had fallen deeply ill. They did not know how much longer he would live, so if there was ever an opportunity to capitalize on this moment, to ask for the king’s blessing—something he would only bestow upon Canna’s successor—now was that time.

  So Abecka had made the coat, Jake had formulated the sleeping draft for Edom and his men, and together, they set their new plan into motion. Besides, earning a woman’s affection had always been easy for Jake. So easy, he’d made a game of it.

  As he was now.

  Life isn’t a game, Jake. It is a gift, coveted by those who would give anything to still have breath in their lungs—breath you and your kith take for granted.

  Jake put his hand to his chest and massaged the muscles. He couldn’t understand why it ached, but then Raquel rolled toward him, nudged into his side, and murmured his name in her sleep.

  Jake cursed and shoved himself to his feet. He needed some fresh air. He needed to move—anything but be near her right now—so he strode for Rian, who sat by the faintly glowing embers.

  Hearing Jake, Rian glanced over and frowned. “You all right?”

  “Fine.”

  Rian eyed Jake as Jake sat beside him.

  Jake didn’t meet his gaze. He looked to the mist instead. “Any signs of Edom?”

  A beat, then Rian shook his head. “Nothing yet. I did hear a couple of Depraved about an hour ago, but nothing’s come close.” He paused. “What if Abecka’s not there?”

  Jake leaned back on his hands. He’d thought about this a lot during yesterday’s travel. “Then best pray she left the thread.”

  Rian stared at him. “Can you fix it?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough.”

  Rian frowned, clearly unsatisfied. “Even if you can, do you think you’ll be able to convince your father to give his blessing without her?”

  Jake shrugged. “We might not have a choice. Either way, I’ll find out tomorrow when I go.”

  Rian heard what Jake didn’t say. “And what about the rest of us?”

  “You’re heading straight for the palace—”

  “Like hell.” Rian sat upright. “You can’t go at this alone—”

  “I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Raquel.”

  Rian gave him an annoyed look.

  “The fact of the matter is that I can get there in about three hours. With the rest of you, it’ll take a full day”—seeing that Rian was about to object again, Jake rested a palm upon Rian’s shoulder and added—“you know it will, and we don’t have the time. Edom is already on the move. And who knows…I might even beat you to the palace.” Jake winked, but Rian was not convinced.

  Rian’s gaze drifted to where Raquel slept, and then he glanced sideways at Jake. “You sure you’ll follow through with this?”

  The question annoyed Jake, and he let it show on his face.

  “I’m serious,” Rian said.

  “So am I.” Then, “Out with it, man.”

  Rian sighed and rested his arms upon his knees as his gaze drifted back to her. “You’re different with her.”

  “I’m trying to win her heart, Rian.”

  “Yes, but it’s more than that.”

  “There’s nothing more,” Jake said. He almost believed it.

  Rian appeared as though he almost did too. “She’s pretty.”

  Jake felt a flare of defensiveness, but he smiled instead. “Makes it simple.”

  Rian looked at him, and then his shoulders sagged.

  “Come, Rian.” Jake rested a hand on Rian’s shoulder. “Everything else is as we’ve discussed. You know this is our best chance. I wouldn’t ask if it weren’t necessary, but I will never get that blessing as myself.”

  “You could. Your father’s practically blind. Just wear a fur and roll around in blood.”

  Jake chuckled, patted Rian’s shoulder, and dropped his hand. “Unfortunately, there’s the matter of everyone else who is not blind.”

  They sat quietly.

  Rian dragged a hand over his face. “Fates, I hope this works, Jake. Seeing that mortal… her color… makes me remember what we lost.”

  Jake’s gaze slid to the sleeping girl, and his chest cramped. “I know.”

  Raquel dreamed of Jake again, but this was not the forest from before.

  This one belonged to Harran.

  She recognized the knobby oaks standing stubbornly between the fluffy pines—the smell. Of earth and rain and balsam. Somewhere, a bird chirped brightly, and a pair of vivid blue songbirds darted past, whirling and dancing around each other to welcome the spring.

  And then Raquel saw herself with Jake. He stood behind her, his chin resting upon her head while his strong arms wrapped around her belly.

  A belly that was swollen with child.

  His child.

  Somehow in Raquel’s dream, within the part of her consciousness that remained distantly aware that none of this was real—that part stared in complete shock while her dream self lovingly regarded the two children jumping in the newly fallen leaves.

  One boy, one girl.

  The girl favored Raquel, the boy Jake.

  The boy possessed Jake’s easy grace and lightness even as he ran around, wielding his trusty stick as he attacked invisible foes. He darted around them and then jumped onto Jake’s back with a battle cry.

  Jake released Raquel and feigned surprise and terror like any adoring father, letting his little cub have every advantage. Giving just enough resistance to prolong the fight, to build the boy’s endurance, and to
help him believe that there was nothing he could not overcome.

  The two wrestled and rolled, the little girl joined in, Jake laughed heartily, and Raquel’s heart felt too big for her chest.

  And then the forest and children were gone, replaced by a bedchamber Raquel did not know. Like the forest, it was a place that belonged in Harran, with its wooden walls and thatched ceiling, the small wood stove and humble furnishings.

  But Raquel wasn’t alone.

  Jake was there, the two of them standing before the glowing hearth. He wore only breeches, and she a nightdress that draped from one shoulder, the fabric so thin she could see her slender silhouette through the material. His arms slid around her waist, and the inked vines around his biceps flexed as he pulled her against him and crushed his lips to hers. Claiming.

  Raquel could not look away. She was somehow inside the moment and outside of it. Watching the way he held her, kissed her—knowing it wasn’t really happening—but also feeling every pulse of his lips as he crashed into her and drew back like the tide. As the heat of his skin burned through her thin slip, as his callused palms slowly slid beneath her hem.

  Raquel knew this was a dream. That she should not want this like the Raquel in her dream so obviously did.

  And yet she could not bring herself to stop it.

  She could not bring herself to wake up.

  His lips were like wine, his touch fire, and Raquel wanted to feel those flames all over her body. And so Raquel let her semi-consciousness drift into this moment, giving herself to it completely so that she and Dream Raquel were one and the same.

  So that she could pretend—just for a moment—that this beautiful moment was real.

  And when Jake lifted her gown, Raquel did not stop him. She helped him, eager to get it off. To feel his skin flush with hers, to feel his lips everywhere. He tossed her gown aside, but rather than pull her down with him, he drew back, grabbed her face tenderly between his hands, and gazed into her eyes.

  His eyes were liquid gold. “I love you,” he said, and then, once he was certain she heard him—that she believed him—he lowered his mouth to hers.

  Of course, that was when Raquel awoke.

  She had been so startled by those words and his confession that she had completely forgotten to hold on to the dream. It had slipped right through her fingers and moved on to finish in a plane Raquel would never see or experience.

  And how she wanted to.

  That truth startled her more than any other.

  Raquel opened her eyes. It wasn’t quite morning, but the mist had lightened, and she glanced over to where she’d last seen Jake. He was gone, the blankets still rumpled where he had lain, and Raquel couldn’t stop the prick of disappointment she felt at his absence.

  I love you.

  The words echoed in her mind and heart.

  Raquel rubbed her eyes and groaned. She was supposed to be contriving a plan to protect Harran from ever having to sacrifice a bride again, not having (highly inappropriate!) dreams about her captor. Maybe the mist was altering her mind, or perhaps there was still a bit of Depraved poison in her blood that Sienne had missed. Whatever the reason, something had to be wrong, because Raquel’s dreams never lied. They were always rooted in truth, though they might exaggerate, but Jake would never—not in a thousand, wasted years—say I love you.

  “Good, you’re awake.”

  Raquel froze, then very slowly, she lowered her hands and opened her eyes.

  Jake stood over her, illuminated from behind by what remained of a fire. She was very concerned that she hadn’t heard him approach.

  “Get up,” he said, his tone stiff. Not at all the way he’d spoken to her in her dream. “It’s time to go.”

  He snapped his fingers, and her blanket vanished.

  Raquel sat up with a start, but Jake was already walking away toward Vizzi.

  “So much for manners,” Raquel murmured to herself as she stood and dusted her skirts.

  “Scoundrel,” he said over his shoulder while pointing to himself, and Raquel grumbled as she started after him.

  Most of the camp still slept, though a few were beginning to stir. Sienne sat beside the fire, drinking out of a water pouch, but when she lowered it, her gaze met Raquel’s, and she looked promptly back to the flames.

  Meanwhile, Raquel was careful not to step on anyone sleeping, and when she reached Jake, she asked, “What about the others?”

  Jake placed his neatly folded coat into one of Vizzi’s bags, and he didn’t look over. “We’ll join them later.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my mother’s.”

  Something had changed since last night. Raquel did not know how, being that she’d been sleeping, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on it, but he was definitely acting different this morning. Irritable and withdrawn and…was he intentionally keeping physical distance from her?

  Raquel took a few steps toward him, and he conveniently took a few steps away, though his attention remained on Vizzi.

  “I thought you didn’t know where she was,” Raquel asked, deciding she didn’t much like this Jake. She missed the other one, infuriating though he was.

  Jake pulled the flap over the bag’s opening and tied it shut. “I don’t. We’re going to her private residence.”

  Raquel frowned. “She doesn’t live with your father?”

  Jake chuckled and moved around to Vizzi’s other side. “No.”

  “Why do you laugh?”

  Jake ran his hand over Vizzi’s side and checked the saddle’s straps. “If you knew my father, you’d understand.”

  Raquel thought of her own mother and father before her mother had died. They had loved one another very much, and her death had nearly destroyed her father. In many ways, it had. “What a sad marriage,” she said.

  “It is a contract to secure peace—nothing more. Certainly, my bride can relate.” Jake threw a pointed look at her over his saddle, and Raquel decided she also didn’t like his assessment of marriage.

  He returned his attention to Vizzi. “And anyway, how sad can it be? My mother is the queen of Canna, and she has access to every provision this kingdom has to offer. Your mortal ideals of love could never make such claim.”

  Raquel thought of her parents’ love again and also her dream. “I would take a simple life with a love that could move mountains over an empty marriage with all the riches and power in the world.”

  Jake looked at her. It was the first time he had really looked at her since he’d woken her this morning, and Raquel’s cheeks warmed from the pure intensity of it. “You are such a contradiction,” he said at last.

  That heat crept down her neck. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  He stepped around Vizzi and stopped before her—right before her. As close as he could possibly be without actually touching her, and she felt every inch of space between them. “You speak of love that moves mountains, and yet you tried to murder your betrothed in his sleep,” he said lowly, his words a brush of warmth against her lips, but before Raquel could find her voice, Jake held out a hand and said, with a triumphant twist of his lips, “Left leg.”

  Raquel gasped in outrage.

  “Come now,” Jake said. “I don’t fancy getting stabbed while we ride today.”

  Raquel grumbled as she lifted the left side of her skirts and unhooked the blade there. Jake’s eyes were on hers the entire time, but she didn’t shy away. No, she stared right back, as if parrying his blade in this new unspoken battle between them—a war of motivation and opposing desire—and she set the dagger into his open palm with gusto, then let her skirts slowly slide back into position.

  His brow raised as he palmed the dagger then leaned in close, his mouth at her ear. “And the one in your corset,” he whispered so softly.

  Raquel’s her heart pounded, and she felt simultaneously furious and undone from his proximity. Still, she did not shy away as she reached behind herself and slid the slende
r file from a rib in her corset and set it in his open palm.

  “Satisfied, my prince?” she said, her voice a breath.

  He lingered there, his mouth still at her ear. “Almost.” His voice was velvet, and a hundred butterflies fluttered inside of her. “Now, if you wouldn’t mind…” He gestured at the saddle with her blade. When she didn’t move, he added, “Or I shall be forced to pick you up and toss…”

  Raquel gathered her skirts and climbed into the saddle. Well, truthfully, she was so flustered that she missed her footing and fell against the saddle. Jake started to reach for her, but she resolutely grabbed the horn and pulled herself up, shoving him back a little as she did.

  Jake chuckled again, climbed on after, slid one arm around her waist, and pulled her back to his chest.

  Raquel told herself it wasn’t the most glorious feeling in the world.

  “If we’re not there by midday, head back to Little Mignon,” Jake said to Sienne, who nodded, though her gaze narrowed on them as Jake nudged Vizzi onward, into the mist.

  15

  Try as she might, Raquel could not shake her dreams. It didn’t help that she shared a saddle with Jake, who kept one arm secured around her waist, his hard chest pressed to her back. Her mind kept reverting to those moments in the dream woods, the way he’d kissed her, and the look in his eyes when he’d said I love you.

  Those three little words taunted her with every mile, teasing her with beautiful possibility while her rational self struggled to hold fast to reality. Jake didn’t have a heart. He could not love. He was only “courting” her because his curse demanded he lay claim to her affections. Not at all from his own volition. It really was just a game for him—she was a game, one he needed to win.