Twisted: Belle's Story (Destined Book 3)

by Kaylin Lee

  Estevan acknowledged my words with a nod, but his expression remained neutral. “Damon?”

  Damon shot me a sidelong glance and sighed. “It pains me to disagree with such a beautiful woman …”

  Estevan scowled.

  I raised an eyebrow at Damon. “Then don’t.”

  Damon laughed. “But I must, my lady.” His expression grew sober. “I’m not saying questus is the right answer for the long term. However, with the price of aurae dropping so drastically, this week has been devastating to the city. So many deaths, and each one leaves behind a grieving family with one less worker to support them. We already have labor shortages from the plague. If aurae continues to spread at this rate, it could set us back years of progress with the economy.”

  “Get to the point.” Estevan didn’t look convinced.

  “Couldn’t we make use of their new essence for the short term, while at the same time ramping up efforts to find out who’s bringing aurae into the city? Then we can stop offering questus, and the city will return to health, with no more lives lost.”

  Estevan sat back, the tapping of his fingers on the desk the only sign that he was thinking about Damon’s words. “And Andres? What do you have to say?”

  The quiet intelligence official leaned forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his knees. “I keep coming back to one question,” he said gruffly. “No one knows where aurae comes from or who makes it. I’ve certainly never heard of any mages successfully making a copy of it. So how were the Wolf clan mages able to make an alternative to aurae so similar it even results in the same glowing light?”

  ~

  I sat across from Ella in the crowded, noisy Sentinels dining hall that evening. “I don’t like it,” I said.

  Ella nodded. “I don’t either. And Zel’s told me stories of the Wolves in Draicia. I know things have changed. They lead their government now, but it’s still the same clan—the same family, the same brothers, the same … well, criminals.”

  “Exactly. They could offer us a city-wide supply of free suffio, and I still wouldn’t want to take it. Something about them …” I thought of the man with the strange smile and a shiver went down my spine. “I’m just glad they’re going back to their city soon. And that we won’t be running into them down here.”

  Ella laughed. “True.” She glanced up at the low, claustrophobic ceiling in the dining hall. “We’re safe and sound down here, aren’t we?”

  I matched her eye roll with my own. “We certainly are.”

  “Speaking of that, I found something after our committee meeting ended today.” Ella leaned closer and lowered her voice. “I’ll show you after dinner. A bit of an escape.”

  I sipped my water. “Sounds lovely.”

  We finished our meals and said good evening to Zel, the twins, and Darien. Then Cole followed us out of the dining hall and down the hallway in the opposite direction from Estevan’s office.

  Ella glanced over her shoulder at Cole, then nudged me. “Does he have to follow you everywhere?”

  “Yes,” Cole said stonily. “Non-negotiable.”

  I laughed. “I suppose that’s your answer.”

  Ella sighed. “Fine, fine. This way.”

  After several twists and turns, she stopped beside a narrow door with worn, slivered wood. “Is this acceptable, Cole?”

  He nodded, then sighed. “I’ll wait here.”

  She pushed the door open, and we stepped through it into the icy air of a small, dark courtyard. Cole shut the door behind me, and I sighed with relief in the frigid air, lifting my face toward the dark night sky.

  “We’re still fenced in on all sides,” Ella said, “and all the plants in this sad little garden are withered and dead. You’ll see if you return in the daytime. But at least that horrible, low ceiling is gone.”

  “And we can see the stars,” I added. I rubbed my hands on my upper arms and stamped my feet. “It’s freezing, but it’s worth it. How did you find this courtyard, anyway?”

  Ella coughed. I glanced over at her. If it weren’t so dark, I could have sworn she was blushing. “Um … Weslan and I found it earlier today.”

  I managed not to laugh. “And how is your dear fiancé these days?”

  Ella nudged me. “Go on and laugh. I don’t care. One day you’ll be the one sneaking off to kiss your own beloved any place you can find.”

  I scowled. “What beloved?”

  “You know exactly who I mean.”

  “He’s not my beloved.” I turned around and kicked a stone into the nearest dry, spindly bush. The lie made my mouth taste funny. Ella was silent, and I kicked another stone before turning back to face her. “Fine. He is my beloved. But I’m not his.”

  “Oh, Belle …”

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. It doesn’t matter.”

  Ella frowned. Even in the dark courtyard, I could see her eyebrows furrow into their familiar V-shape, as they always did when she was confronted with something she didn’t like. “Of course it matters. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Why do you say you’re not his?”

  I told her of our argument after I was attacked. “Yes, at times it does seem like he feels some sort of attraction to me. But I don’t think it goes any deeper than that. He won’t even apologize for using me. It’s as though he sees nothing at all wrong with it! As though I should be satisfied—even honored—to be nothing more than a political tool.”

  Ella was quiet for a moment, studying my face. “Does he know you want to be more than a political tool to him?”

  I felt my face flush as I recalled that awkward moment in the Sentinels training room. “I—” Did he know how I felt? “He should. He must. I think he does.”

  Ella laughed softly. “How can you be sure?”

  “Certain things,” I mumbled. “Things I may have done. It’s not important.”

  “But have you told him?”

  I shook my head.

  Ella sighed. “For weeks, I thought my feelings for Weslan were obvious, but it wasn’t until he confessed his love to me that I finally told him outright how I felt. He told me later that he hadn’t been at all certain of my heart until that day. It took all his courage to risk rejection and tell me the true nature of his feelings.”

  I kicked another stone into the bush. “Even if I tell him, and even if he truly does feel something for me, it doesn’t change the old king’s True Fenra decree. If I marry Estevan, I’ll be ending his curse and making him king. I’ll be a pawn, simply because of my blood. Love won’t change that.”

  Ella looked up at the stars and let out a long breath. “I know you don’t want to be controlled or used. I don’t either. No one does.” I watched her face, but she kept her gaze focused on the patch of dark, cold sky above the courtyard. “If the mage regulations don’t pass, I’ll essentially be married to a slave, you know. My children, if they bear mage powers, will be no more than slaves as well. Tools. Pawns.”

  I swallowed. She was right. “So, you want me to marry Estevan so he can push the mage regulations through without the Court of Lords?” The knowledge that I had the power to free Ella’s fiancé and future children made my stomach sick.

  “No!” Ella frowned at me. “Of course not. I’d never want to exchange your freedom for my family’s, and that’s what I’d be doing if I pushed you into a marriage you didn’t want.”

  I frowned, confused. “Then what—”

  “I’d rather be the wife of a slave than live without Weslan,” Ella said firmly, cutting off my interruption. “I love him that much, and he feels the same way.” She squared her shoulders. “I’d do anything to help Weslan. If marrying me brought him any advantage, I’d happily give it to him, and I know he’d do the same. If you love Estevan, and he loves you, why should it matter if he gains power from your marriage? Some things are more important than pride.”

  ~

  That night in my room, I settled back on the uneven mattress and mulled over Ella’s words. I’d had one mission
for years—to avoid my mother’s fate. How could I allow myself to be used by Estevan? I refused to be just an asset, as my mother had been.

  How could I love Estevan when he was willing to marry simply to gain the power of the kingship? I recalled his thin smile the day after the attack, when he’d told me his offer still stood. I still need a wife like you. He was ambitious and cold. A man like that could never be able to love me back. Could he?

  It can’t be easy, being the Crown Prince and looking to fall in love. Petrina’s sweet, hesitant voice echoed in my ears. I thought of her downcast eyes the morning of the Crimson Blight’s attack during my final exam, when we’d talked of Prince Estevan’s upcoming selection ball.

  I pulled the quilt over my shoulders and shifted to get comfortable in the narrow bed, but no matter how I moved, I couldn’t shake the strange feeling that took hold of me. Petrina. I’d been terribly unkind to her—using her True Name when it wasn’t necessary, insulting her work so word of my cruelty would spread to my father.

  It was too hot. I kicked off my blanket and twisted in the bed. I’ll do whatever it takes to become king, Estevan had said.

  How many times had I said the same thing to myself when it came to beating my father at his own game?

  How much cruelty had I justified? How many innocent people had I hurt?

  As I drifted off to sleep, one worry repeated in my tired thoughts—perhaps Estevan wasn’t the only beast in Asylia.

  ~

  “You can’t honestly be considering this.” I crossed my arms and frowned at Estevan from across his desk. “Damon is obviously wrong. It’s been over a decade since aurae entered Asylia, and we haven’t stopped its spread yet. Why would we be able to stop it this time, if we give in to the Wolves and offer questus as a temporary replacement? We will just be replacing one problem for another, and it won’t be a temporary arrangement. We will become dependent on the Wolves. You know I’m right.”

  Damon laughed.

  A smile drifted across Estevan’s face. “Do I, now?”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not being arrogant. I’m simply stating a fact. I’m right, and you both know it.”

  Estevan leaned back and crossed his arms, watching me with a deceptively calm expression. “You’re oversimplifying. There’s more to it than that, and you know it.” He put an obnoxious emphasis on the word ‘know’.

  I scowled, and Damon snorted under his breath.

  “We couldn’t stop aurae during the plague because the city nearly went bankrupt,” Estevan said, watching my face intently as he spoke, as though searching for my response. “It’s a miracle we didn’t lose the rule of law completely, much less maintain the rigors of an investigative guard force. Since the plague, it’s been all we can do to restore the royal treasury and get the wheels of government turning smoothly again. We never had the funds for the kind of measures we’d need to stop aurae completely.”

  I shifted. So, Ella and I had been right about the palace treasury. “Do you have the funds now?”

  Estevan sighed. “Not really.”

  “Not yet,” Ferris said. “But if the mage regulations pass, and there’s a boom in the economy, the increase in tax revenues will make an enormous difference.”

  “Eventually, you mean.” I pressed my fingers to my temples. “Fine. I suppose I understand, if I must.”

  Estevan ran a hand through his already disheveled hair. “I’ll think on it a little longer. Trust me, Belle, I don’t like this any more than you do. But scores of people are dying of aurae overuse every day. It’s almost as bad as the plague. Something has to change.”

  I nodded and slouched in my seat, exhausted from the countless debates we’d had on the subject already. It had been two weeks since the Wolves arrived in Asylia, and we were no closer to a solution than that first night.

  “In the meantime, Andres has an update for us.”

  I straightened. Andres had been heading up the investigation into my father.

  Andres leaned forward and spoke for the first time that evening. “Not a good one, I’m afraid.” He met my eyes, his expression apologetic. “We found your secretary. His body, that is. Gate guards pulled it out of the Theros River last night.”

  His body. The roaring in my ears made it impossible to follow the rest of the conversation. I was aware of nothing but the aching hollowness in my chest—the absence of warmth, the absence of safety.

  Ambrose had been more of a father to me than my own had ever been. He’d served my mother when she’d had no one, and he’d served me when it was the last thing I’d deserved. He’d died for his loyalty to me and to her.

  A gentle, strong hand led me back to my room, where I shut the door on voices that kept asking questions I couldn’t comprehend.

  Somehow, I survived the night.

  ~

  Three days later, the staff met again in Estevan’s office. I could barely go two breaths without thinking of Ambrose’s death, and the only thing that distracted me from his murder was recalling Estevan’s latest, flippant offer to make me his queen. But we had to do something about my father. I avoided looking at Estevan, who’d been oddly quiet on the other side of the desk. The six weeks we’d agreed to were nearly up. Did he remember?

  “What is your next step?” Estevan’s voice was low.

  Andres straightened slightly, his expression sober. “I recommend that we begin searching Bank Argentarius for fresher information on this smuggling operation,” he said. “As soon as possible.”

  The sick feeling in my stomach grew worse. For weeks, I’d wanted Estevan to send me home to my father so I could continue my investigation. But now that Estevan’s investigation had failed, it was the last thing I wanted to do. I pressed my hands together to stop them from shaking and forced myself to meet Estevan’s eyes.

  His face was unreadable. “Everyone out,” he said simply, without looking away from me. “Everyone except Belle.”

  I ignored the shuffle of papers and polished shoes as the staff exited, Damon shutting the door with a click on his way out. My heart pounded. Ella’s words replayed in my head. Some things are more important than pride.

  Did he know how I felt? What would he say if I told him?

  I’d asked myself those questions a thousand times, and I still didn’t have any answers.

  “I assume you want to return home now,” he said.

  I nodded slowly. “I do.” Why did the words sound so weak?

  He must have heard my hesitation, because he stood, stepped around the desk, pulled a chair closer, and sat down. “Are you certain?” He was a hand’s breadth away. I could feel the heat from his body, but he didn’t touch me.

  I shifted slightly, so that we were facing. Nerves made me dizzy. Some things are more important than—

  “I’m in love with you,” I blurted out.

  Estevan’s eyes widened.

  I grabbed his hands before he could move away, and then pulled them close to my chest. “I’ve loved you for years. Or at least, I thought I did. I admired you. I dreamed of you. I wanted to come to you for help, but I was too afraid of my father to dare.” I took a deep breath. “Now I know you—I know the man you are, the prince you are. Not by reputation but in truth. I don’t agree with everything you say, but I think you’re a good ruler and a good man. And I love you now more than I ever did before.”

  I tried to read his face, but it was impossible to tell what he thought of my words. “I don’t want to marry you just to help you become king. But if you love me, then your father’s decree won’t matter to me anymore. I won’t let it matter.” I swallowed hard. “All I want is to be with you.”

  I waited, but he didn’t speak. Like a fool, I kept going, my voice shaking. “So … that’s me, then. I love you. Do you? Love me, I mean?”

  The silence in the room threatened to overwhelm me. I forced myself to breathe. One breath, then two.

  Estevan’s hands were strong and warm, and I relished the feeling of his skin on
mine after weeks of avoiding contact.

  Then his fingers twitched, and I felt the exact moment when he began to pull away—the exact moment when what was left of my heart crumbled completely.

  I let go of his hands as he stood and stepped back. My hands were cold and empty. I stood numbly, not wanting him to tower over me any more than he already did. The space between us was answer enough, wasn’t it? But I still couldn’t leave it alone. “Well?”

  “No.” His voice was hoarse. “I can’t be who you want me to be. We won’t have what you want us to have. I’m sorry.”

  Chapter 30

  I poured a second mug of hot coffee. Steam rose from the hot liquid as I filled my mug nearly to the brim. Heat seared my fingers when they brushed the side of the coffee pot, but I didn’t move my hand. For one long, ugly moment, I let the heat on my hand burn away the broken feeling in my chest. Then I yanked my hand away and shook my burning fingers to cool them.

  We won’t have what you want us to have. I’m sorry.

  He was sorry?

  So was I. Sorry I’d ever fallen in love with him. Sorry I’d ever longed for an escape from my nightmarish life. Sorry I’d listened when Ella told me some things were more important than my pride.

  At least the six weeks I’d promised were drawing to a close. I wouldn’t have to endure Estevan’s empty smile and cold demeanor much longer.

  I picked up my mug with my unblistered hand and returned to my seat beside Ella. The dining hall was empty, save for me, Ella, and the twins, as everyone else had already finished eating.

  “What are you reading?” Their heads were bent over a newspaper at the center of the table. It hadn’t been there when I’d gotten up for more coffee.

  Ella frowned, her eyes fixed on the paper. “Someone dropped off this morning’s Herald, and Bri grabbed it on the way to breakfast. There’s a new article in the journal by Ruby Contos. She’s the same one who wrote the piece about Zel, right Bri?”