3. Tamsyn

3

Tamsyn

I STOOD ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE PAINTING, SHROUDED IN darkness, with only the thin spread of canvas stretched taut like skin between the men and me. Hidden in the secret passageway, invisible to those inside my father's chancery, I held my breath.

I was invisible to them, but they were not invisible to me. I saw and heard everything, and the fury pumped hard and fast inside me, battering within my veins like a storm. My father intended to give one of his precious daughters to the Beast of the Borderlands.

One of my sisters.

The man I called Papa—who doted on me alongside his natural-born daughters—would never do such a thing. He would not betray one of his own in this way. Or so I had believed.

I had never felt such rage, such helplessness. All my life it had been my duty to protect the princesses of Penterra. To be flogged in their place was a privilege. There had been a long line of parents offering their children up for the prestigious role. When the queen became pregnant, many had applied. Only I was chosen. It was an honor. At least that was what I had been taught.

My earliest memory was of Nurse sending me to bed without dinner. I was three or four and confused because I had not done anything amiss. Feena, months younger than me, adored playing hide-and-go-seek. She loved it so much she would play it long after Nurse called us in. It had taken over an hour to find Feena that day. Nurse had been in a panic, enlisting the entire palace staff to find the princess. Eventually she was discovered where she had fallen asleep, in the bottom of a wardrobe in one of the guest chambers.

That was my first lesson. My first punishment. I was sent to bed with an empty belly whilst Feena watched in wide-eyed incomprehension, too young to understand why Nurse, quivering with outrage at her , was sending me to bed hungry. I remember huddling in my bed, tears hot and salty on my face, choking on the injustice, my stomach growling with hunger as I stared into the dark, so hurt, so confused at what I could have possibly done to deserve such harsh treatment.

Eventually we would all come to understand, though.

Eventually my punishments would become physical in nature. First by Nurse's hand, then later by tutors, then by the lord chamberlain. Collectively, they all saw to it that the princesses faced consequences for their misdeeds. That I faced the consequences for their misdeeds. Me. For the things they did. All confusion and hurt ultimately faded as that became my accepted reality.

I was the whipping girl.

I had protected my sisters all my life. They needed to be safeguarded now more than ever—or at least one of them did. From him . The Beast had marched in here with his band of ruffians and his contemptible demand, and my father had conceded.

But I would not.

Outraged breaths fogged from my lips as I glared directly into the ice-pale eyes of the man who thought to claim Feena, Sybilia, or—God help her—Alise. My youngest sister was small and delicate. She would break under this warrior.

Scant inches separated us, the air hot and crackling between us. His dark hair reached his shoulders, the sides braided close to his scalp. I could practically feel his breath through the flimsy barrier. I studied his hazy face through the fibers of the canvas, taking comfort that he could not see me in the darkness of the damp corridor, and yet...

Why had he stopped directly in front of the painting?

Why was he staring at me like he could see me? As though he were on the verge of reaching through the canvas and touching me?

A fever rippled over my skin as I imagined those big hands closing around me.

It was impossible, of course. He could not know I was there.

My gaze flickered over his shadowy face, studying every line and hollow, the intense eyes, the hard set of his mouth. He looked... agitated. Perhaps I had given myself away with a sound. I had thought I was the height of stealth, but it was the only explanation for his fixation on the painting.

The king settled a hand on his shoulder and led him away so that they could discuss the particulars of his marriage to one of my sisters... but not before the king sent a disapproving glance toward the painting. I sucked in a breath.

My father knew I was in the hidden passageway.

Of course he did. Papa had lived in this palace all his life. He was the one who had first showed us the passageways when we were young children. I inched back, certain that he would not be pleased with me. For once, I may have earned a whipping all on my own.

I waited as the men continued their discussion, hoping to learn which one of my sisters was destined for such a vile fate, which one was to be bound forever to the infamous Lord Beast, bloodthirsty and vicious, purported to be more monster than man, the last human alive to survive a dragon.

And yet Papa never said a word. Never mentioned who he was promising to the Border King, and the dreadful barbarian never asked. It likely did not matter to the wretched man. The Beast doubtlessly viewed my sisters as being the same. They were all pleasing of face and daughters to the king. Interchangeable. That only increased my indignation. My sisters were more than that. They were individuals and vastly different.

Feena loved animals and was always smuggling one pet or another into her bed, whilst Sybilia would just as soon drink poison than let an animal anywhere near her for fear of them jumping on her and licking her. And then there was sweet Alise, who loved her watercolors and indulged in strawberries and cream every morning. She ate so many strawberries that she smelled of them.

I felt a chill when Dryhten insisted the marriage be performed at the earliest convenience. Papa agreed, assuring him it would be done. It was dizzying, how soon it was all happening. The queen had not even been informed... much less the bride . Everything inside me fumed that one of my sisters would be left at the mercy of a man known as the Beast. Did Papa not fear for his daughter?

They began to disperse, the lord regent reminding them that a grand feast awaited. Dryhten's warriors looked well pleased, and I wondered why he still appeared so sullen. He'd gotten his way. Should he not be smiling like the others? Tension feathered the skin of his jaw, and he sent one more glance over his shoulder to the painting—to me .

I stiffened and shook my head.

No, no, no. Keep walking, brute.

As though I'd uttered the words aloud, I pressed my fingers to my mouth to stifle any sound that might slip free.

He could not have heard my thought, and yet those flashing eyes of his narrowed. Across the distance, they were impossible to read, but I felt his suspicion as keenly as the edge of a blade pressing at my throat. His broad chest lifted on an inhalation I somehow heard—felt—and then he turned away, disappearing from the room.

I sagged back against the wall, bowing my head and dropping my hand from my mouth with a shudder of relief. Several minutes passed before I felt composed enough to move. I did not relish returning through the labyrinth of passages snaking through the palace, all manner of creepy-crawly things for company. It was a long, winding walk in the damp dark to the salon where my mother and her ladies liked to do their needlework. I lifted the latch, deciding to take the quickest exit.

With a push, the painting swung out like a door, and I stepped down into the room, my slippers sinking into the rug covering the stone floor.

The Great Hall would be crowded with revelers, eating, drinking, dancing in time to the troubadours assembled especially for this night. The Penterran court never needed a reason to celebrate, but the arrival of our special guests would result in long hours of carousing. No one would have noticed that I was missing yet. I had to find my sisters and warn them. I had to speak to Mama. Perhaps she could sway her husband. Perhaps I could approach Stig, and he could talk to his father. I knew he would be on my side.

Turning, I made certain the painting was back in place with no hint that it had been disturbed. Satisfied, I turned around and walked directly into a wall. A hard wall with arms and hands that came up around me. A wall that possessed a deep, growling voice. "I see this palace comes equipped with spies."

The Beast.

Instantly, I was assailed by the scent that I had noted earlier in the Great Hall. I was awash with it—with him. My nostrils flared. Wind and earth and horseflesh. And that indefinable something else.

Heat rippled over me, igniting my skin. I arched against the great slab of him, against pulsing, immovable muscle. I pushed my palms into his solid chest, desperate to break free.

I was fire. My entire body warmed at the contact, and fear clawed at my throat.

His eyes weren't narrow slits any longer. They blasted me, wide and alert, battle ready. This close, without a hazy barrier between us, I could see they were the color of frost, pale gray with a ring of darker blue. Gratification gleamed there. He'd sensed I was behind that painting, and now he'd caught me.

"I am not a spy," I said in a raspy voice I did not even recognize as my own.

"No? Who are you, then?" Those eyes roamed my face and my flame-red hair. His gaze lingered on my hair. The unusual color featured largely in the torments of my childhood, when children of the court would call attention to it as a visible reminder that I was truly not one of them—that I was not a real princess, just a stray taken in by a generous king and a queen with a soft heart. " What are you?"

What was I ? What was he ?

His eyes absorbed me in a way no one ever had before. I was largely overlooked in the palace. Except when a whipping was required or when someone felt like ridiculing me for my ungainly height or my unfortunate hair or my dubious parentage.

Then the brute lifted a hand.

I flinched.

He paused, his eyes communicating something to me. I could not say what, but I eased slightly. He waited a moment longer and then brought his big hand closer, touching a lock of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers gently, experimentally.

I felt a rumble then, and realized it was inexplicably coming from me, from my chest.

He released my hair. It fell back against my neck in a whisper, and the iron bands of his arms came back around me, circling tighter, bringing me closer. My fingers flexed against his leather tunic like a kitten kneading its paws, unable to resist, unable not to move and explore.

"The question is... do you spy for yourself or someone else?"

Moments passed before I could speak. "I am... no one."

He made a sound: part laugh, part growl. "Oh, sweetheart, you're someone... something ."

I shivered despite the heat engulfing me.

He was no longer a distant figure across a crowded room. No longer someone obscured by a veiled painting. He was here and real and pulsing against me. His hair wasn't just dark. It was tar black, flashing blue and purple as a raven's wing where the light from the nearby wall sconce struck it. I could distinguish the deep blue ring around his pale eyes. Admire the impossibly thick fan of lashes. And his mouth. By God... his mouth. His bottom lip was full and wide, deceptively lush for a man that was all hardness and brutality.

Blinking, I shook my head as though shaking myself free of a spell. This man was simply different. That was it. That was what entranced me so. With his big body and too-long hair and searing eyes, he was not like the men of the palace, and that fascinated me.

And terrified me.

"Unhand me," I ordered.

I was certain he was not a man who yielded to anyone. He was a warrior who took what he wanted. His existence was built on strength, on exerting force, on domination. For a moment, I did not think he would oblige.

Then he did.

"Of course." His arms loosened a fraction, allowing space between us. Even so, I paused, lost in the glory of that face and hair and eyes, bewildered at the tumult of sensations overwhelming me.

I finally broke free, staggering back a step. It did little to help. The air charged and sparked around us like an approaching storm. His eyes glowed, a beast stalking in the dark. Fitting.

He continued, "I'll let you get back to your... whatever it is you're doing that isn't spying."

I opened and closed my mouth, disliking his mocking tone and wanting to put him in his place and let him know... what? That he was wrong ?

Because he was not. He was not wrong. I was spying. I didn't regret that either. I would do that and more to keep my girls safe.

The door to the chancery opened abruptly, and the lord regent stepped inside. "Ah, my lord, we thought you were—" The lord regent's gaze landed on me, and he startled, his lips thinning in displeasure.

I tensed. The pompous windbag tolerated me, but I knew he disapproved. Even though I provided a service as the royal whipping girl, he believed me too indulged, too embedded in the king's household. He especially did not like my friendship with his son. Sometimes I caught him watching me with Stig, and the look in his eyes frightened me. Made me feel as though I was doing something wrong. It was a sensation I despised. I tried so hard to behave properly. It was enough that I was punished for my sisters' misbehavior. I did not need to be disciplined for my own missteps. That I could control.

"What are you doing in here, girl?" He stared down his long nose at me. "You shouldn't be here. Off with you, off!" He waved his hand at me, shooing me away, treating me as the nuisance he deemed me to be.

I hesitated only long enough to send Lord Dryhten one final, guarded look—as though expecting him to leap out at me and seize me, grab me and punish me for eavesdropping.

He didn't, of course. He let me go, and I fled the room, his gaze palpable, hot and feral, slithering over my back.

I didn't venture to the Great Hall as I'd originally planned. Lord Dryhten would be there, and one encounter with him was enough for the night. For a lifetime. There was also the possibility that he would call me out as a spy in front of the king and queen.

I shuddered at the prospect. The king and queen were good to me, but even they had their limits. I knew better than to shame or embarrass them in front of the court and our very important visitors.

I hastened to my bedchamber, where I paced its length, wondering if the lord regent would seek reprisal for finding me alone with Dryhten. Should I expect a visit from the lord chamberlain to deliver another whipping? It had been a long time since I'd had two whippings in a single day. I didn't relish it.

The distant sounds of merriment carried from the Great Hall below. I wanted to believe that the lord regent, deep in his cups, would forget all about me, but I knew that unlikely. The lord regent never lost his head to wine, and he would be extra vigilant with the border lords here.

One of the maids arrived to turn down the coverlet, but when she found me in the chamber she stayed and helped ready me for bed, brushing my hair until it crackled like fire and then securing it in one long braid.

"Did you have a nice time this evening, my lady?" she asked, assuming I'd been in the Great Hall with everyone else. With the palace brimming with people, it was a simple matter to lose track of one less-than-important princess.

"Yes," I lied, staring numbly at my reflection. There would be no explaining the truth—that I had not been to the Great Hall at all. "Have my sisters returned to their chambers yet?"

"I don't believe so. The celebration is still going strong."

Of course it was. Except the girls would not be downstairs much longer. Mama would not permit them to carouse late into the night. I would wait up for them. They deserved to know. They needed to know what was being planned for one of them. They needed to be warned. We could come up with a plan together.

A brief knock sounded on my bedchamber door. Without waiting for my summons, the king and queen entered, followed by the lord regent. My stomach dropped at the sight of Stig's father.

The queen nodded in dismissal at the maid. "That will be all. You may go."

The girl dipped a curtsey and left us. The door clicked shut behind her, and the sound reverberated through the space, which suddenly felt much too small. It was a wholly unique scenario—the king, queen, and lord regent alone with me in my private chamber, sucking all the air out of the room. I could only assume their presence here was because the lord regent had caught me alone with the border lord.

The Beast was a valuable individual to them. Clearly. They were giving him a princess as his bride simply because he asked. No doubt they were here to interrogate me about our encounter and make certain I had done nothing to offend Lord Dryhten.

I hurriedly got to my feet, wiping sweating palms down the front of my night-robe. I was not certain I hadn't offended the Beast. His narrowing eyes flashed across my mind, so frosty gray I felt their chill blow through me. I fought to control my expression and reveal none of my misgivings.

I curtsied in acknowledgment of my mother and father. I could muster only a stiff incline of my head for the lord regent. He stood stoically beside them, his expression as coldly cunning as ever.

My father studied me with a smile. "Tamsyn, I understand you found your way into the chancery when I was meeting with Lord Dryhten."

My cheeks went hot. Of course he had been informed. "Yes, Papa."

"Hidden passageway?"

"Yes, Papa," I confirmed.

He made a sound in his throat that was neither disapproval nor approval. "My fault, I suppose, for showing it to you and your sisters."

"Eavesdropping on matters that don't concern you." The lord regent tsked and looked to the king for agreement. "I've said it before, Your Majesty." His tone softened, lyrical but also wheedling. "You indulge her. She takes too much liberty."

"That is neither here nor there anymore," the queen said brightly.

The lord regent released a long-suffering sigh but gave the barest incline of his head in agreement.

And that felt ominous.

I looked wildly at the three of them, wondering why it was neither here nor there anymore.

The king turned to me. "I take it you know I've promised a daughter to Lord Dryhten."

"Yes, and I cannot understand why, Papa." This was my chance to talk him out of it. The perfect opportunity, here with the three people who made all the decisions. In my life. In my sisters' lives. In the lives of everyone who lived in the City... in all of Penterra. Until this moment, I'd thought they were the three most powerful people in all the realm. Now I knew better. Now I knew that there was a beast with a power that rivaled theirs. A beast that had come to our door, and my family was prepared to give him whatever he wanted.

"It is not for you to understand the reasoning of your betters," the lord regent snapped.

My mother approached, fondly stroking a hand down the thick braid of hair draped over my shoulder. "Oh, Tamsyn," she chided. "Always so staunch in your beliefs. It is commendable."

I relaxed a bit beneath the praise and sent a defiant look to the lord regent.

The king settled his hands upon my shoulders. "I know this is beyond you, my dear." He stared into my eyes. "But diplomacy is necessary in the ruling of a kingdom."

"I am sure it is challenging, but you cannot do this," I dared to beseech him, ignoring the lord regent's presence—knowing he was watching with displeasure at our familiarity, our closeness. Displeasure from him was nothing new, after all. "You cannot give one of my sisters to that man."

"He can do whatever he likes. He. Is. The. King." The lord regent punctuated each word with biting emphasis, and in his eyes was his usual contempt as he looked down his narrow nose. It gave him the appearance of being taller than me even though he was not.

I lowered my gaze. "Forgive me." The words were reflexive, but I was not sorry. Not sorry at all. Not when it came to protecting my sisters.

"Oh, tell her," my mother said with impatience.

My eyes snapped back up. Tell me... what ? Which sister they were condemning to a bleak fate? Had they already decided? I swallowed against the giant lump forming in my throat.

"We are not giving him one of your sisters," the lord regent finally said, almost as though he savored the admission. And that did not feel right. Nor did the hint of a smile cracking his harsh features.

"Y-you're not?"

My father nodded. "That was never my intention."

I rubbed at the center of my forehead, relieved but confused. "I don't understand. I heard you agree to—"

"We had to agree. We could not refuse the dog of the Borderlands, unfortunately. We need his continued protection of our northern border." The lord regent's lips peeled back in a grimace of scorn. "Bloody barbarian. We will not taint the royal bloodlines with the likes of him."

"So what will be done?" Something had to be done. They had promised him a Penterran princess. I had not misheard that.

The king squeezed my shoulders encouragingly. "We will give him a princess of Penterra. As promised."

Frowning, I looked to each of their expectant faces and shook my head slowly. "But you said..."

"I know what I said," the king acknowledged.

Then...

"We are giving him," the lord regent finally clarified, "you."