Page 39 of Mated to Monsters
It’s his turn to stand, wooden, as I get myself ready to leave. I will not shed tears for my fate. I have come to terms with it, and if he will not fight for me, then I have no reason to stay. Even as I maintain a pleasant expression, my heart breaks with a succinct snap so loud, I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it.
Giroth’s gaze is on me, stunned by my easy acceptance. “The carriage is waiting.”
“Good,” I say. “That is good.”
When my blonde hair is put back, and my things are all gathered, I return to his side, even as he watches me like I’m a wild creature again, not knowing what I’ll do.
“I’m ready.”
His mouth opens as if he means to say something, then his jaw snaps shut again, and he glances towards the door. “Come.”
I bow my head as I follow after him, passing the dark elf servants, ever muted. I don’t know what Giroth’s king said to him to make him so compliant, but at least I’ll be there for the other women who are most assuredly frightened by whatever foul machinations they have planned for us. Giroth doesn’t need me. They do.
And, if he was so gentle, maybe it’s not out of the realm of possibility that the other demons might be, too. I hope, for all our sakes, that I’m right.
He holds the door open for me, and lets me out onto the street.
This part of Ti’lith is sparse, at the edge of the island. I didn’t get much of a chance to explore it when I arrived because I was despondent, wrapped in his arms. I think, perhaps, that I could fall back into that memory alone and be comforted by him. But reality bears down on me, and his icy disposition is overwhelming.
So, when he guides me with a hand on my back, I can’t help but slip away from him. I think I catch a hurt expression on his face but he masks it with impatience. “You have always been such a lot of trouble,” he murmurs, though there’s something affectionate that leaks into his tone. It’s gone when he speaks again. “Get in.”
I don’t grace him with a response, mounting the carriage and sliding in with a singular parcel resting on my lap. He slips in across from me and stares out the veiled window as the wheels begin to turn.
From the corner of my eye, I notice that his jaw is working furiously, and his brow is knitted together so tightly, they’re almost a single line. I’d laugh if it weren’t such a miserable affair, sapping any joy out of me.
I fold my hands over the parcel. “Thank you,” I murmur.
That seems to snap him out of deep thought, and he finally looks at me in earnest, that vulnerable expression unbidden. “Excuse me?” he asks, his tone as sharp as he can manage.
“Thank you,” I repeat a little louder. “For everything.”
I expect him to retort or silence me with another heavy glare. Instead, he simply stares at me, perplexed beyond words.
28
GIROTH
I hate how she sits beside me, so calm and collected. It is an offense to her rebellious nature, and yet here she is, smiling easily at me. Thanking me. And for what? What have I done but condemn her to a fate worse than death?
How can I explain to her that I am but the extension of my King’s will? I have no more agency than a finger to the hand that it is attached to. Perhaps, if I’d asked for time to contemplate his question, maybe I could have fashioned a better excuse to keep Cora a little while longer. But he demanded an answer, and it has tormented me since the moment I uttered it.
What can I possibly say to her, who has come to trust me so completely?
There is more to the silence than the weight of her acceptance. It’s in her hands, that are folded tightly over her few belongings. Those hands that don’t reach for me any longer to find comfort. How resolved she is! But should I expect any less? It’s her resolve that intrigued me, and set me to chase her in the first place.
Her eyes are clear as she looks through the webbed curtain, and her expression is set to something decided. It does not change when the carriage slows in front of the royal estate, and when the door is opened by a Trolvor guard.
She hugs the parcel and exits first.
I hurry to stand beside her, in case the King has decided to haul her away at the entrance. I could not bear our last moment together watching her being dragged away. I could not bear the thought of her glancing back at me with an accusatory stare like others, blaming me for the ruling of my King. And, though she seems to need no escort, I keep her in my shadow as we walk through the grand hall that has been opened wide for us.
For her.
Cora is so small compared to the world around us, that I hate myself for taking her from the ground continent. When she ran, I should have let her. With every step, my self loathing mounts until we reach the throne room.
It’s a quiet gasp from Cora that makes me focus on the present moment, and I follow her gaze to the throne. It is not King Asmodeus that has stolen her attention, but a woman that sits on the King’s lap, scantily clad and smirking at us.
Her eyes are the same crystal blue as Cora’s, and her long hair is a shade darker than gold. I’m already beginning to expect what is transpiring when Cora verifies it with a hot, tremulous whisper. “Laura.”