Page 5 of The Ruthless Fae King
It was time. He was here.
As I strode towards the door, Piper caught my wrist. I turned to look at her and there was a fire in her eyes. “Remember your worth, Madelynn Windstrong. You have a lot to offer. I don’t care if he is king. You’re worth more than a bag of gold.”
My heart pinched, and I thanked the Maker for such a loyal friend. Squeezing her hand, I nodded and then opened the door to find my mother waiting for me. The dowry negotiation was always done in person after the male suitor met the prospective wife. He would want to make sure I looked as pretty as he had heard, or last seen, and that I was as powerful as rumor stated. The prettier and more powerful, the more money and land my father could ask for.
Because I would be giving him power in his kingship and future heirs, he would pay my father for the right to marry me. It was a practice as old as time in our culture, one that if I stopped to think about felt a little offensive, but was necessary to keep our court funded. My father didn’t ask for many taxes from the people, and fifty percent of what we got we had to give to the ruling monarch, the winter king.
“You look beautiful, dear,” my mother said, and extended her arm so that I could hook mine into hers.
“Thank you.” I took her arm and then looked back at Piper, who gave me a thumbs-up.
I loved her for saying she would go with me. Truthfully, I wasn’t sure I would be able to survive in Winter without at least one friend.
As my mother and I traversed the hallways of my family home, I felt reality settle in. I couldn’t believe I was doing this. The man who was rumored to have killed a servant for not making his bed correctly was about to be my husband.
Could I marry a man who would make me miserable for the rest of my life just to honor my duty and make my family happy? Was duty above happiness?
Unfortunately for me, it was.
“Maddie!” My little sister’s voice came from behind me and my entire body went rigid. If I saw her right now I would fall into a puddle of tears. I couldn’t imagine leaving Libby.
“She doesn’t know yet,” my mother whispered, and relief rushed through me.
I spun, plastering on a fake smile, and let her rush into my arms.
“I got top marks in archery! Master Bellman says I’m as good as the elves!” she shouted excitedly.
I grinned, smoothing her frizzed red hair with my palms. She had mine and our mother’s red hair coloring but my father’s texture. She looked like a wild lion half the time. “I imagine you are.”
“You look pretty.” She took in my gold embroidered dress and fancy hair and makeup.
“Thank you. I have… a meeting, so I will come by after and talk with you, okay?” Saying goodbye to her would kill me. I couldn’t even think of it right now.
“‘kay!” she shouted, and then ran to our mother to hug her before she was bouncing off down the hall to her room with her nanny running behind her.
I shared a heartbreaking look with my mother but said nothing.
Libby and I had a special relationship. I’d watched as my mother had cruelly gone through seven miscarriages before Libby was born eight years ago. When she came into our lives, it was the breath of fresh air we all needed. She kept things fun and light in the palace. She was the joy in my mother’s heart after so much sorrow.
When we reached the door, I looked at my mother to hit her with the truth. If I was going to marry this man with the heinous reputation he had, I wanted to have control over certain things.
“I want to negotiate my own dowry,” I told her boldly.
She almost choked on her own spit, coughing and clearing her throat. “Honey, that’s not done. It’s between King Thorne and your father.”
I tipped my chin high. “If I’m going to be sold to a monster, I will state the price I am worth, no one else.”
My mother’s cheeks burned with shame and I felt awful for saying it that way. Her curt nod was all I needed before I opened the door.
When my gaze fell on Lucien Thorne laughing near the fireplace with my father, I knew I was in trouble.
I’d built up a deep hatred for this man. The things he’d done were inexcusable, and yet when my gaze fell on him, I couldn’t help the tightening of my stomach and the warm wash of pleasure that rushed through me.
He was the most attractive man I’d ever seen. I faltered as he turned to look at me.
Oh, Maker, have mercy.
Lucien Thorne was nothing like the boyish paintings hanging in meeting halls. The man before me was chiseled perfection: steely gray eyes, a sharp nose and strong jaw. His lips were pursed and thick. He wore the hairstyle of royal warriors, his long black tresses shaved at the sides and then pulled into a ponytail, braided at the very edges. His charcoal-gray tunic hugged his muscular body, leaving little to the imagination. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but not this, not to feel attracted to the man I hated. It threw me for a second, as the king and I just stood there and stared at each other. His gaze raked over me slowly and I felt my breath hitch.
