Thorne considers my words. “Then it will be what any of us have to confront in life. But you are smart—I hope you see now that the Enduares are, and have been, inconsequential in the grand scheme of the elven empire. But you, the one that the king feels drawn to. If this experiment works, then we will improve our birth rates in no time.”
I nod slowly. “And what do the elves think about such widespread blood mixing?”
He flinches, and I remember that he is aPeredhel. A halfling: half human, half elf.
“Oh,” I say dumbly. “The king has already elevated you above others. Do you experience unkindness here?”
He sighs. “Do not try to analyze my mind, Arlet; it is not so deep or moldable as you might wish. The reason I am here is to guide you, and ensure that you are the perfect bride in manner as you already are in form. This place is not as it appears, despite being beautiful and relatively civilized, as some say. It is just as savage as the bloody ruthlessness in the giant court.”
I am surprised to hear his words, and a part of me returns to the feeling of wrongness that came over me with the dressmakers.
“And you, human, have your own secrets to protect. Do not think I have forgotten the stories told to me in Enduvida. I know that you lost a child. I know you have lain with men. I know that your womb is deficient.”
I blink, yet again taken off guard by his harsh words. My cheeks burn and my lungs freeze. If he knows all of this… “Then how am I here? How am I still alive?”
“Because you are the one Arion wanted. I have let him believe convenient lies, and you will work with me to ensure those lies remain undiscovered. Understood? If you die, I die.”
Before I am able to make a comment, Thorne stands.
“Your ladies-in-waiting will be back soon to help you dress. I seeyou trying to endear yourself to them. Do. Not. Trust. Them. Do you understand?”
My face is still burning.
“But my—” I cut myself off, lowering my voice as much as possible. “I need someone to help me prepare my womb for Arion’s child.”
He frowns. “You think I brought you here for everything to fail? I’m afraid, you are going to have to trust me.”
I stare at him, completely disarmed. “Understood,” I say and swallow.
“Good. Now, once you are ready, then you will be taken to dinner with the king. I believe he used the words ‘intimate meal,’ but you can expect at least two dozen royal court members in attendance. Remember that these courtiers do not function like those in the Enduar Court—they are not appointed because of expertise, but because of wealth that has persisted in their families for generations. They control things because of who they know, and they will all want to know you. To watch you, like some rare species of deer. Put on a show.”
I feel more uneasy by the second.
“What does that mean? They don’t want to know about my life in poverty, or me serving in a court of people that they seem to think of as lesser than?”
Thorne chuckles. “Being the pet of someone with power means just that. They want to know about the pitiful, degrading, ugly experiences of your time as a slave. Don’t let their poise fool you—they want to hear of your suffering and use it for their own personal entertainment.”
I shift. “But my time with the Enduares was…”
“Yes, yes, so perfect. So freeing. Spin it. Make them believe you were taken from one place and forced to work. The more that they see you as a charity case that the king has brought in out of the hidden goodness of his powerful, seemingly unfeeling heart, the more they will feel comfortable with thisexperiment.”
I nod slowly. “And what shouldn’t I talk about?”
“Your opinions. They don’t need to know your thoughts on the different types of people you’ve met, on the government, on women,or, gods forbid, education. Keep compliments surface-level. ‘The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,’ ‘I am so impressed with how clean and bright things are.’” He considers his words for a second. “Remember. You are a helpless doe. Make yourself as nonthreatening as possible.”
I bite my lip. I almost have it in me to ask him if these are all pieces of advice that he has taken himself, but remember what he said. He knows the truth about my virginity and my womb. He could expose me at any time.
But…as he’s admitted, our fates are tied.
The more time I spend with him, the more I feel like he is a puzzle I cannot unravel.
Let it be, then.
I let him continue to guide me through instructions, soaking up every detail with as much exactness as I can muster.
Chapter 11
VANN