Four
The journey through the palace to meet the king feels both torturously long and frighteningly quick. It’s enough time for me to get myself completely worked up, but not nearly enough time to calm down and prepare myself.
“My father isn’t as kind as I am,” Roarke tells me as we stride across glossy marble hallways with two uniformed faeries ahead of us and two behind. “He wants to keep you no matter what. Daughter-in-law or prisoner.”
Wonderful. That doesn’t make me want to throw up at all.
“I won’t let that happen, of course,” Roarke adds, “but it would be better if you don’t make any joking comments about changing your mind or not being certain about the union. Things might get … unpleasant.”
“I’ve already told you I’m not changing my mind.” In my effort to mask my fear, my word
