Married by Treachery Read online

  Even in darkness, or perhaps because of the darkness, she recognized the symmetry of those wooden beams, and they did not belong in her chambers.

  They belonged in Jake’s.

  What in the devil was she doing in Jake’s bedchamber…in Jake’s bed?

  She bolted upright, expecting Jake to also be in his bed with her, but she was alone. Embers glowed faintly in the hearth, softening night’s shadows, but the world remained quiet. Tranquil, even.

  Almighty in heaven, what in all the world…

  Raquel’s memories caught up to her fast: her interrupted conversation with Jake, her escape from the glamoured window (it wasn’t glamoured now, she noted), her flight into the forest after the children, the strange, paralyzing moment with that creature, and Jake’s sudden appearance saving her from the largest of them.

  For all that Raquel had accused Jake of underestimating her, she had woefully underestimated him, and—saints above—Jake had been magnificent. Wielding that glowing sword as though he were a god wielding a bolt of lightning. It was difficult not to admire such skill, and again, Raquel was chastened by the depth of her delusion, believing she could actually overcome this forest prince.

  If Lee had known, he never would have let her offer herself to the elders.

  But then a thousand other questions filled her mind: What were those winged demons? Where had they come from, and why had they attacked? Clearly, Jake had anticipated them. Jake had told Marix he’d spared extra warriors for this reason. And then there was the issue of the kith children.

  Raquel was still bewildered by them. She’d never seen a kith child before, and there’d been three. Which begged another question: why bring the children at all? And were they all right? She had made it out alive. Someone must have carried her, because her last memory was of the forest floor.

  A dull ache made her glance down, and she was shocked to find that someone had washed her and changed her clothes. Her corset and heavy skirts had been replaced by a simple white nightdress made of the softest cotton. She flushed, wondering who had seen her so indecent. Was it Jake?

  And then she wondered what he had thought.

  Raquel could have slapped herself. In fact, she did slap her forehead just then. He might not be responsible for murdering six of Harran’s young maidens, but he was still her captor. He’d locked her in his bedroom—he’d welded the door shut!—while demons had attacked the gates, but Dream Raquel was still fighting Awake Raquel for control over her heart. However, both became quickly distracted by the growing ache in her abdomen.

  Raquel lifted her nightdress just enough to see the thin silvery scar along her belly where the monster had raked her with its claw. The scar went from naval to rib, and the wound itself should have taken weeks to heal. A spell of dizziness took her, undoubtedly related to that wound, and she dropped her gown and sagged back against the headboard, eyes closed. But the moment she closed her eyes, Dream Jake was there again. His tears, his vulnerability, and his warmth.

  His deliciously soft mouth.

  Raquel touched her fingers to her lips. She could still taste him there, a lingering sweetness on her tongue and a warmth in her heart. Prophetic dreams were nothing new for Raquel. She’d experienced them all her life, but she’d never dreamt one so…romantic, and this punched holes through her heart, filling them with desires for him. Of what could be.

  Which was nonsensical!

  That arrogant, selfish, heartless piece of…

  She jerked her fingers away and reminded herself that the real Jake had stolen her away from her family, locked her in her room (or tried to), had at the very least been complicit in the abduction of six women, and planned to do saints-knew-what with her.

  And yet.

  Her dreams had never led her astray before. A few times, she’d wished they had. Like the night she’d dreamed her mother had broken her neck after being thrown from their mustang one week before it’d actually happened.

  Whatever these dreams of Jake meant, the fact remained that she was the seventh sacrificial bride, Jake had disguised himself as his brother this time, and she still had no idea what he intended to do with her. He’d never answered when she’d asked, and she certainly wasn’t going to get any answers while sleeping in his bed.

  Well. Not the answers she needed. Where was that tricky forest prince, anyway?

  Again, she remembered their kiss, the look in Dream Jake’s honey-gold eyes and the taste of his lips. Saints above, Raquel could not shake that image of him—and she needed to!—so she threw back the covers and slid her feet to the floor, but she’d grossly overestimated her present state of health. Her head spun, her knees gave out, and she would have fallen if it hadn’t been for the pair of strong arms that caught her.

  “Careful, my bride.” Jake’s voice rumbled through her chest. “You’re not strong enough yet.”

  Oh, dear. Now was definitely not the time.

  “Where did you come from?” Raquel didn’t mean to shriek at him, but he’d startled her, and the dream was still too fresh, and he was too close. Too… everywhere, just like he’d been in her dream, and—Almighty as her witness—she could still taste him on her tongue. “And I told you my name is Raquel!”

  “Well, Raquel, this is my bedchamber,” Jake said slowly, a smile to his voice. His strong arms were still locked around her, and he smelled deliciously of soap and pine and warmth. He’d also donned a fresh linen tunic, Raquel noted. “I would have placed you in yours; however, you seem to have developed the habit of not staying in it.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to put me in bed with you?” She glared up at him, which was a horrible mistake. His uncommonly handsome face was close enough to kiss, and that was exactly where her thoughts went.

  “Calm down.” His voice was thick with amusement. “Sienne will murder me if I let you pass out again. And anyway, I did not share your bed. Whatever you may think me, I’ve manners enough to ask a woman first, though they’re usually the one’s asking me…”

  Raquel narrowed her eyes at him. “Scoundrel.”

  Those blasted dimples reappeared, which loosed a swarm of butterflies inside of her stomach, and then his features sharpened with concern. “Hm. Let’s get you near the fire.”

  “Why?”

  “You look a bit feverish.”

  “I’m not feverish.”

  He gave her a patronizing look that was becoming irritatingly familiar. “Your face is bright red and you’re trembling.”

  She realized that she was, in fact, trembling, though she did not think it had anything to do with sickness. Still, she didn’t resist as he escorted her toward the sleepy hearth. She couldn’t. She didn’t have the strength, but also Jake had one arm wrapped firmly around her waist. The weight of it proved a strange comfort, and his delicious heat seeped through her thin nightdress, which was all the motivation Dream Raquel needed to strangle Awake Raquel into subservience.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Raquel asked.

  “Two days.”

  “Two…days?” Raquel gaped up at him.

  Jake snapped his fingers, and flames erupted in the hearth, bringing immediate warmth and light to the room. “You’re fortunate it wasn’t longer. My cousin purged the poison from your veins, and while Sienne is extremely gifted in the arts of healing, you managed to challenge even her constitution with the amount of poison you infected yourself with.”

  “You speak as if I did it on purpose…”

  He eyed her sideways, a glint in his eyes. “Are you suggesting you accidentally stole my coat, escaped through my window—I’m still impressed by that, I might add—and charged into battle in the middle of the night?”

  Raquel pursed her lips. “I did warn you.”

  “You did.” He smirked. “Here. Have a seat…Raquel.”

  He’d stopped before one of the high-backed chairs situated in front of the hearth. Raquel mustered whatever dignity she had left and sat down, and once Jake appeared confide
nt that she could sit without falling over, he sat in the chair opposite. He snatched an ampoule off the small table between them, then bent forward and filled one goblet, then the other. A lock of dark hair fell over his brow, though his gaze remained focused on the task at hand. He had large hands, she noticed. A wide palm and thick fingers that might be considered too large for his frame—the only trait that marked him as the real Prince Edom’s relation—but his motions were not clunky or awkward. Every movement was precise and efficient. Graceful. The light of the fire warmed his skin, softening those sharp kith features, and both Dream Raquel and Awake Raquel found themselves wholly arrested by his beauty.

  His gaze lifted to hers, and he raised a brow.

  Raquel realized she’d been staring. Unabashedly.

  She folded her arms and promptly looked to the flames, but not before catching a glimpse of his triumphant grin.

  “I’m not sure what you’re smirking about,” Raquel said tartly.

  “Mm,” was his only reply, which also sounded triumphant, and then he held one of the goblets in front of her face.

  “No, thank you.”

  “It’s just water, my bride. Drink. You need it.”

  She meant to scold him for not using her name, but at mention of water, her mouth felt immediately parched, so she took the goblet instead. Jake leaned back in his chair, his long legs stretched and ankles crossed. The fire reflected in his eyes, making them molten, and Raquel found herself staring again, searching for the man from her dreams. The Jake with real tears and a bleeding heart. The one who made her heart ache—it ached even now. Confound it all! This would not do! She looked back to the fire and raised the goblet to her lips.

  “Why did you go after the children?” Jake asked.

  The goblet froze at her lips. In her dreamy, simpering stupor, she’d completely forgotten about them. “Oh, saints…the children!” She pulled the goblet away and slapped a hand over her mouth. “I completely forgot to ask…are they well? You did manage to save them, yes?”

  “They are well,” Jake answered firmly, as if he meant to mollify her inevitable spiral of concern.

  Raquel sighed with relief. “Oh, thank the saints…”

  “You are very lucky to be as well,” he said with such candor that Raquel glanced back at him. His eyes bored into hers, though she could not read the expression there. “Which is why I can’t figure why you risked your life to go after the offspring of your sworn enemies.”

  “They’re children.”

  “Yes, but they’re our children.”

  Raquel set the goblet on the chair’s armrest. “And? I have no grievance with them simply because they are yours.”

  “But they become us.”

  “Is their future already decided? Have they no choice? Perhaps an act of kindness from a mortal is all they need in order to become something different.” Raquel shifted beneath the new intensity in his gaze. She didn’t quite know what to do with serious Jake. “Anyway, whatever their futures, they are still innocent, and I wanted to help them if I could.”

  Still, he studied her. “Have your…objectives changed, then?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  He bent his legs and sat forward as he looked at her. “You are not behaving like a woman set on exacting vengeance upon the people responsible for ‘murdering’ her dearest friend.” He made quotes in the air with his fingers around that one word.

  “I’m exacting vengeance on a person, not a people, and those children had nothing to do with Adina. I won’t make them suffer for what Edom has done.”

  “But you want Edom to suffer.”

  “That depends: You say Adina lives, but what of the others?”

  Jake’s silence was answer enough, and Raquel gripped her goblet so tightly her knuckles blanched.

  “Why, Jake?” she demanded.

  His lips parted, but then his brow furrowed and he closed his mouth. “I cannot answer that,” he said a moment later.

  “Cannot or will not?”

  A muscle ticked in his jaw, and he considered her. “Is that why you took my coat? You saw an opportunity to escape, and you thought my coat would disguise you, despite my saying it wouldn’t?”

  “That’s not why I took your coat. I took it to hide my hair”—Jake’s brows shot up—“and anyway, the matter of your coat pales in comparison to the fact that five of Harran’s women are now dead because of you!”

  “Because of Edom.”

  "You didn’t exactly help them!”

  “Neither did your elders, and I don’t see you exacting your righteous vengeance upon them.”

  At this, Raquel stammered and fumed. He had a point, curse him!

  “Suffice it to say,” Jake continued, raising his goblet and tilting it, “we all play a role in this game that is life. Edom made his moves, as did your elders. Now it is my turn.” He took a sip from his goblet.

  “And what, pray, is your next move, Highness?” Raquel cut back.

  Jake lowered the goblet and licked his lips. “I am reevaluating at present.”

  “Because I’ve been asleep the past two days?”

  He looked at her over his goblet. “More because my coat has been rendered functionally useless.”

  Oh. Then, “How is that?”

  Jake sighed, lowered his goblet, and looked to the flames. “There’s a large gash across the front that severed all of the enchantments, thanks to your little scuffle with that oversized rat.” He glanced sideways at her.

  That gash probably mirrored her new scar. “Can it be fixed?”

  “By the one who made it, yes. I think.”

  “I imagine that person would be happy to fix it for you.”

  Jake turned his head and looked at her fully. “Happy? I don’t believe my mother is familiar with the term—”

  Raquel sat forward. “Wait, your mother made that coat for you?” To this, Jake tipped his head a fraction, and Raquel could hardly believe it! But she had to believe it, because Jake couldn’t lie. “You’re saying your own mother performed treason against one son in order to help the other…?”

  “It’s complicated…” Jake waved two dismissive fingers.

  “Complicated? That’s abhorrent!”

  "I would argue that offering one’s only daughter to the Forest kith in order to protect your village another seven years is equally repugnant, but we all do what we must, it seems…”

  Raquel pressed her lips together. “So where is he now—your brother?”

  “Probably suffering a migraine from the sedative I slipped into his drink—but anyway, you’ve definitely complicated matters for me.”

  “And those matters are…?”

  Jake smiled wickedly, then lifted his goblet to his lips again.

  “I see. Yet again, I’ve touched upon something you either cannot or will not share,” Raquel chided, and Jake didn’t deny it. “Well, whatever those matters are, you clearly still need your disguise.”

  “That does seem to follow, doesn’t it?”

  “Are you going to tell me why?”

  He pulled the goblet away. His eyes shone, and a slow smile stretched his lips—so devastating that it nearly stopped her heart. “Would you believe me if I said that I find you woefully intriguing and want you all for myself?”

  Those blasted butterflies filled her chest and started filling her limbs too. “No. Not in a hundred years.”

  “You are so consistently suspicious, my bride.”

  “And you already admitted that you’re not in the habit of getting attached.”

  “People change with the right motivation.”

  Raquel graced him with a look of condescension, to which his smile only widened, and then he tipped his goblet toward her. “But you truly are lucky to be alive. There was a good amount of Depraved poison in your veins.”

  “Depraved… is that what you call those winged monsters?”

  Jake took a small sip from his goblet. “Though I think I like you
r terms better.”

  “And what happens if one is infected with Depraved poison?”

  “If one is lucky, one dies.”

  “And if one is unlucky?”

  Jake’s smile turned mirthless, and that kith wildness reflected in his eyes. “You become one of them.”

  “Oh.” Again, she remembered the Jake from her dreams. The one who had said I cannot stop it.

  Was this what he’d been trying to stop? This plague upon his land? A disease that rotted stags and infected the forest with mist and turned their people into Depraved?

  “When did it start?” Raquel asked. It was a strange question to ask, because it followed the statement Dream Jake had made, but if real and present Jake found it odd, she couldn’t tell.

  “Nearly half a century ago,” he answered.

  Raquel stilled.

  The first bride. That was when the Forest kith had first come to Harran demanding a mortal bride in exchange for protection.

  Because they needed a mortal to stop whatever plagued their land. Deep in her bones, Raquel felt that to be true.

  And yet this plague persisted, and they kept taking brides. No, Edom kept taking brides. Raquel really needed to sort this part out so that she knew precisely how to stop Harran’s curse. She leaned forward so that she and Jake were both bent over the small table, and she asked, “How is this different?” She gestured between them. “What will you do with me that your brother has not already tried with six others?”

  Jake’s gaze bored into hers. He was not smiling now. “I will succeed,” he said so softly, and Raquel suddenly realized how close they sat, the two of them bent over the small table, the fire their only companion.

  Her heart beat faster, and she swallowed, determined. “How will you succeed?” she whispered, trying to find her conviction despite a body that was having a very different response to this handsome forest prince.

  “Like this.” Jake did not break her gaze, not as he set his goblet upon the table, nor as he reached out for her, slowly giving Raquel every opportunity to back away. To knock his hand aside.

  She told herself to do it. To lean back and smack his hand away. He was her captor! She should not let him near, let alone touch her. But try as she might, she could not persuade herself to push his hand aside. She couldn’t move, actually, so she sat frozen and hardly breathing, wondering what his wide palm felt like upon her skin. Wondering if it felt like the Jake in her dreams. Wondering until she didn’t have to wonder.