Page 68 of The Half King
“And do you believe them?”
She bit her lip. She didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Would it help to tell you they’re wrong?” he asked, but then he immediately shook his head. “Of course it won’t. They sowed their seeds in you when you were just a child. Now those roots run deep.”
She took his face in her hands. She needed to break the curses; she needed to be worthy of the sunset runes and then to receive the Sight so she could use her gift to restore him. Her ability to follow him into the darkness last night, whatever it meant, didn’t seem to serve much of a purpose. If there was a chance that she could receive arealgift, a useful one, she had to protect it.
“It’s not long until my Claiming Day,” she said. “I don’t see the harm in waiting.”
“And what if youdoreceive the Sight?” he asked. “What then? Will you be so afraid to dim your gift that you end up dimming your own light in the process?”
She peeked up at him. She didn’t know what to say.
“Cerise, I respect your decision,” he whispered. “But as a king, I know a thing or two about control. The kings who came before me ruled by fear. My father was one of them. And strictly speaking, fear works. It’s a powerful motivator. But anyone who has to terrorize their people into submission is a poor and unimaginative leader. A strong ruler inspires others to follow them. The same is true of faith. Any order worth your prayers will lead by inspiration, but a false order will create illusions of fear to control you. They’ll make you confused, just like you’re confused now. They’ll tell you not to question them. They’ll invent rules and consequences that don’t exist to make you afraid of disobeying them—just like you’re afraid of disobeying them now. So ask yourself: Why can’t the priests inspire you by grace? Could it be because they have none?”
“But why would they lie about this?” she asked. “What would they stand to gain from keeping me a maiden?”
“Maybe nothing. Maybe they’re manipulating you just because they can.”
She didn’t believe that. No one lied without a reason; it required too much effort. “I don’t know what’s true,” she admitted. “I only know what feels right.”
“Does that mean my touch feels wrong to you?”
“No,” she told him at once. She refused to let him believe for even one moment that his touch was anything less than her greatest joy. “Maybe I am afraid of something that’s not real. But I don’t want to take the risk. There’s too much at stake—not just for you and me, but for Daerick and my sister’s baby and all of the firstborns who will suffer if I fail. Please tell me you understand.”
A flicker of disappointment crossed the king’s face, but he cupped her cheeks in both hands and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. “If it’s important to you that we wait, then it’s important to me.” He winked. “Though I may have already ruined your reputation, my lady. These canvas walls are thinner than you think.”
She froze, her eyes wide. “Do you think anyone heard?”
“I suppose we’ll find out,” he told her.
And they did, a while later, after they had dressed for the day and walked out of her tent to a host of downturned gazes. The group had definitely heard her moans. She flushed hot with embarrassment. She could only imagine what everyone was thinking.
Nero slid her an amused glance, chuckling to himself as he stuffed his folded tent into a bag. She wordlessly handed him the jackrabbit Blue had retrieved and then strode to the fire to prepare a bowl of oats. Daerick and General Petros were also preparing their breakfasts. They scratched the backs of their necks and studied their shoes when she joined them. They put her in mind of two overprotective brothers working up the courage to give her an uncomfortable talk about men. And if she was the sister in this imaginary family, then Father Padron was the patriarch. He pierced her with a reproachful look that made her want to thrust out her tongue and remind him that he wasn’t her real father.
“I might expect this from the king, but not from you,” Father Padron hissed as soon as he got her alone. He had finished saddling his horse and insisted on helping with hers—an offer she had known better than to refuse. “The goddess gave you a body of flesh so you could serve her will, not so you could make yourself a vessel for male lust.”
Cerise whirled to face him, leaving the saddle unfastened. She had never heard a more twisted view of love or of women. It wasn’t simply the crude words that offended her, but the implication that the only thing Kian wanted from her was pleasure. As if that was all she had to offer. As if no man, least of all a king, could have any other interest in her than that.
“I’m sorry you think so little of me,” she said and then immediately corrected herself. “No, I’m not sorry, because I haven’t done anything wrong. The king barely laid a hand on me.”
“It didn’t sound that way.”
Another wave of heat flushed her cheeks. None of this was his business. She had chosen to stop Kian out of an abundance of caution, not because the act of love was shameful. “Nothing happened. But even if it had, it’s not forbidden by scrolls for an oracle to love.”
“It dims the Sight.”
“But how do we know that?” she asked. “I’ve heard of powerful Seers who engage in love. Where is it written that it dims the Sight? If the goddess didn’t intend for oracles to love, then why wouldn’t she relieve them of the desire for it, like she did for the priests?”
He must not have had a logical response for that, because instead of answering her question, he chose to prey on her heart’s worst fear. “It won’t last,” he said. “Even if you break the king’s curse, he will eventually discard you.”
She shook her head. She refused to believe that.
“Kings marry for power and for peace,” he went on. “Not for love. Even the late queen was no ordinary commoner. She had influence over the people. Respect. The old king believed a union with her would make the people respect him, too. He never loved her, and he made no secret about it.”
Father Padron leaned down so she could see him better. It wasn’t so much a gesture of tenderness as a means of inflicting more damage. “You could be hisconcubine.” The word made her flinch, exactly as he had intended. “Is that what you want? A life spent waiting in your chambers for the king to come to you when he’s finished bedding his wife? Feeding on the scraps of another woman? Watching him make a legitimate family with the queen while your belly swells with his bastard?”
Cerise couldn’t bear to think of it, let alone answer.
