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To her utter surprise, the prince tipped his head back and laughed in earnest. “Oh, I would’ve paid handsomely to see that.”
“No one will wear those boots or cut their skirts like a harlot,” Eleanor interjected, receiving a scowl from everyone at once.
Alestair had finally done it. His men had finally incited an uprising—one spanning the continent.
“Is it? I think it’s her that’s working. They believe in her. That damned hat?”
“She’s not quite so terrible once you get to know her.” “And you’ve gotten to know her so well?” He loathed the petty jealousy that crept into his voice. “I’ve had more real conversations with her than you have,” the lord shot back.
Sorscha perked. “Oh! I’ve read that one. It’s delightful.” Agatha squinted. “I know. I hadn’t read it because I let you borrow it and you gave it away.” “Oh, please. That was a hundred and fifty years ago.” “It was a new release!”
“You never even wear shoes, and I stole them because you burned my damned house to the ground.” Sorscha scoffed, throwing her hands up. “One time. It was one time.” “That’s an awful lot of times to burn someone’s home to ash.” “It’s not if you consider how many homes you can have, you crotchety old hag.”
Caution be damned. She commanded all the books leave their place. Every one of them was chained to the stone. Her mind swirled, taking in the titles as they hovered all around her.
Agatha eyed the darkest of them: a deep, burnished gold and nearly black lace. That is what she would have chosen.
He already knew she’d say something with pumpkin. “Anything with pumpkin.”
He couldn’t take the life of his friend, his comrade-in-arms. He was still just a young man. It was his fault Alestair was involved at all.
Agatha hates roses.
Without so much as a pause in her step, Agatha unclipped the cape of...raven feathers and flipped it around behind herself to reveal not white, but blood red.
Their reactions instantly made sense. With every sway of Agatha’s white bridal skirts, black peeked through, and golden ceremonial bands of the gods trailed intricately up her bare arms. Her eyes landed momentarily on each one of them upon the dais, locking lastly on Grimm’s as she ascended the steps. Grimm couldn’t help it, his lips turned up in an astonished smirk. Her attention flicked to his mouth then she lifted her eyes to his once more. A sinister grin spread across her face, igniting the spark she’d set into a full inferno.
Upon further inspection, she would have bet her life that the mount was a gilded set of tiny bat wings. And the band was a link of golden bones.
Anne blushed. “Oh, your husband, of course.” Agatha baulked. “He had it specially made. He and Lord Gaius went to pick it up themselves just yesterday.”
“I can’t undo all these blasted ribbons and buttons on my own.” She stopped in her tracks when Grimm turned around shirtless.
“Agatha?” Grimm’s voice drifted through the dark. “Yes, dearest husband?” She could hear the faint smile in his voice as he said, “Three inquiries to pass the time?”
“My ring,” she said. “With the black stone. Did you mean it as an insult? A mockery of my station?” Grimm sat up, a mere shadow in the dark. “What?” She felt more than heard him moving closer.
“Agatha, no. Absolutely not.” He looked everywhere but at her, and she pulled the blankets up to her neck. “I—” He ran a hand down his short beard. “Everything about this was thrown on you against your will. Not only did you
have to marry someone you didn’t want to, but nothing about the wedding was something you would have chosen for yourself. You hate roses, and I didn’t know what dress Tindle would make for you. I thought—” He chewed on his bottom lip. “I thought the one thing that you were to wear always, with it sitting on your hand as a constant reminder… I just thought there should be one thing you might have selected for yourself, and you seem fond of black. And bats.”
“Have you? Come together?” When her eyebrows raised suggestively and Grimm caught the meaning behind her words, his chest rumbled with a suppressed growl. “Dulci, you are like a mother to me, and I don’t wish to have this conversation with you.”
“How can I miss someone that’s never around? But I’d be happy to stab you and see how I feel once you’re gone.” His returning gaze sent a shiver through her. “I’d love to see you try.”
“And what display is that, Grand Magus? What mayhem have I caused?” she asked. His jaw clenched and Grimm shifted on his feet. “You defied our customs and made a mockery of the wedding ceremony, for one.” He chopped one hand with the other. “You were to show the common people that someone of their station has climbed the social ladder and they needn’t worry any longer, not parade about like a harlot.” “I thought,” she spoke sharply, words laced with poison, “that I was to erase the lines of inequality, Grand Magus, and
that means bringing my ways into the court.” The magus’ pompous face darkened with spite and Agatha caught the barest of smiles upon Grimm’s lips out of the corner of her eye. “And your toast?” Magus von Fuchs’ face scrunched up like he’d eaten a lemon. “How dare you?” “How dare I toast my king and queen for being the progressive, equality-driven royals you claim them to be by allowing their son to marry me?” Agatha raised one eyebrow. “A travesty indeed.”
as Anne and Miriam approached with trembling trays of refreshments. When the Grand Magus smiled at Agatha, she thought she’d be sick.
She kicked him, her foot connecting with his bare leg, and they both froze. For some reason, she’d expected him to have pants on.
“Snitch,” Grimm muttered. “Who’s playing mind games now?” His smirk dimpled one cheek. “I trust Augustus with my life. I can’t say that about most, so I knew I could trust him with yours.”
Anything for you, my darling wife.” His tone was saccharine and the colour of her cheeks dipped into a lovely shade of scarlet. He hoped the men thought it out of embarrassment, but Grimm knew it was fury.
“We’re headed there.” He inclined his head toward it. “The lighthouse? But it’s been abandoned for centuries.” Grimm cocked his head to one side. “Has it?”
He was beginning to throw caution to the wind where Agatha was concerned and one day it could lead to a heap of trouble. Perhaps it was a mistake after all.
He might fault her for leaving trinket trails, but Grimm was chaos.
“This is where you hide out, then?” What she meant was: This is the real Grimm, then. “It is.”
“Enough,” Grimm growled, rising to his feet. He stalked toward her, his boots thudding on the floor. “If you want to ask Gaius or Mila, you go right ahead.” His jaw clenched as he looked down into her eyes. “What I want, Grimm, is for you to answer me.”
“If you cannot answer that, can you at least tell me why I’m not safe if I know these things?” “Because not even I am supposed to know them, Agatha.” She stood upright and crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Grimm, please. I need you to understand that I’m utterly alone in this.” His face darkened at that. “I might be a peasant girl, but surely you can tell by now I’m not content to have a peasant’s knowledge. How can I rule by your side someday when I know nothing? I was sent here against my will and bound to you with no knowledge of what’s really going on. I’ve fought tooth and nail
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Recent events clicked into place suddenly and surely. Dulci’s comments about control, the vacancy in the people’s eyes… “Grimm, does it control the people in some way?” It had to be magical if so, not medicinal.
Agatha swallowed, knowing that what she was about to say was reckless
direction of the books. “Why do you have all of these?” Grimm raised an eyebrow. “Why should I not have them?” She noticed an ancient tome spread open on the desk by the window and went straight for it, knowing it had to be the last book on her list. The one she needed most. Grimm straightened and rested his palm on it. “Agatha, don’t.”
“Agatha, please.” She looked down at the page and her breath caught in her throat.
Agatha stiffened. So, this was how it would go. “Three inquiries?” she ground out.