Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
I’m sick to my stomach.
My eyes are gritty and red-rimmed from lack of sleep.
My skin itches with a terrible foreboding.
Gwen has her mind set on finding a husband today.
Stopping her would be an easy feat. I’ve only to turn to the king beside me and ask him to disqualify one of his subjects from the wife auction. He wouldn’t even ask me why, although he’d suspect I want to tup her myself. And God knows I do. I want to push her ankles up to her ears and ride her raw. Want to fuck her again and again until she can’t live without my cock. Want to…
Laugh with her.
Take her riding on the grounds of my kingdom.
Hold her hand during meals.
Fall into the sanctuary of her arms after a battle.
Down in the arena, a sword clashes with armor and I bolt upright, dragging myself out of my wayward thoughts—and lord were they ever wayward. For a moment there, I was imagining Gwen at my side performing activities only a wife would.
A mistress is meant strictly for relieving the ache in a man’s loins.
Not filling his castle with the warmth of her humor and personality.
But my sisters deserve to have someone who professes love for them, so I force myself to do it. Only for them. Even if it makes my face feel like it’s on fire.
Gwen’s husky confession from the night before drifts through my mind. What is that odd twisting feeling in my chest that happens when I replay those words? Surely I’m not imagining her saying the same thing about me one day. That I deserve to have her love for me professed out loud. Love isn’t something I value.
It is flimsy. Just words that people don’t mean.
People who are supposed to love someone can use them just as easily.
Cold snakes down my spine, the memory of a wolfhound’s jaw locked around my calf making me swallow uncomfortably. The memory of calling for help from someone who was supposed to keep me safe at all costs.
Yes. Love is flimsy. Now the steel of my sword? That is substantial.
Gwen really seemed to mean it about her sisters, though.
What if she has the capacity to love me where my parents did not?
“Corbet, you look ill,” Connor mutters in my ear. “Eat something.”
There is a trencher of meat and potatoes at my elbow, but my stomach turns at the idea of filling it. Where the hell is Gwen? Is she preparing for the fucking wife auction?
No. I can’t allow it. If she puts herself up for auction and someone else takes what’s mine, it will burn me alive. From dawn until dusk until the end of my days, I’ll think of her. I’ll hunger for her and wonder…I’ll wonder.
I am seconds from picking up my helping of food and throwing it as far as possible when I finally spy Gwen. She’s just walked into the arena. Two young girls are at her sides, one slightly older than the other, but both quite small, their eyes wide with excitement over their surroundings. But Gwen is watching them. Not the proceedings.
Her enjoyment seems to come from their reactions. Their laughter.
Her love for them is evident, her heart on full display and…
She is worth so much more than a half commitment.
I’m ashamed I even asked her.
“Corbet,” Connor says impatiently, leaning forward once again from his seat behind me. “The jousters are awaiting your signal to begin.”
“Oh, for the love of—” I lift a hand and drop it again. “When is this over?”
“It’s over when it’s over.” He pauses. “Then begins the wife auction events.”
“Events?”
“Yes. Do you know nothing of the Joining?”
I grunt, my eyes still glued to Gwen. Is she wearing flowers in her hair today?
The yellow blooms probably make her eyes sparkle.
Is she ever going to glance in my direction?
Do you hear yourself?
“First there is a pie-tasting competition,” Connor says.
At this, I turn in my throne. “A what?”
My advisor does not hide his impatience, but it’s the king of Lavere who answers. “Well, the men are looking for a wife, aren’t they?” He dabs at the sweat on his brow and drones on. “It makes sense to sample their baking first. You wouldn’t want to spend all that money if the woman can’t even bake a decent pie.”
Pie?
Gwen is a farmer.
She doesn’t have enough fucking work to do without having to bake for a husband, too?
“And then, of course, there is the water carrying competition,” Connor continues, sounding kind of smug, though I can’t imagine why when my world is falling apart. “A man needs to know his newly purchased property is strong enough to carry water from the well.”
A vein ticks ominously behind my eye. “Newly purchased property?”
Connor sighs. “Sure, that’s what these women will be, at the end of the day.”
The king of Lavere nods in agreement and fire climbs up the back of my neck. “Gwen is not property. Do not refer to her that way.”