Grey Magic and Binding Deceptions (Grey Witch Book 3)

by Cece Rose

  Why should I care what he thinks about how I look anyway?

  “You can’t really think she will believe this? She isn’t exactly the reasonable kind of girl. She locked me in a cell without a chance to explain, just left me here naked and slowly freezing to death!” I complain, trying to redirect the conversation away from what me and Darren were doing, and what Rhydian thinks about that. A shudder creeps through me, leaving me feeling even more unsettled.

  “The temperature in here is a little cold, sure, but not low enough to harm you. Cia wouldn’t have left you like that otherwise. She can be… a handful, maybe a little spiteful at times, but she wouldn’t have tried to actually kill you,” Rhydian offers in an attempt to placate me, though I’m not sure I believe him.

  “It felt pretty damn freezing to me. It was also humiliating and I want some clothes, now!” I demand. “I know that you can do it. You put clothes on me before with your magic. Make it happen, faery. You owe me after making me go along with this for you.”

  Rhydian sighs, before waving his hand in my direction. I stand, pulling the blanket off me as I inspect the clothes I now feel covering my body. I’m surprised to see I’m wearing a floor length, black, lace-covered dress. Other than the lace, it’s pretty plain. Just a dark twist on a summer style dress.

  “A dress, really? Couldn’t have thought of something more practical for me to wear?” I notice something and look down, lifting my foot out from the hem of my dress. “And no shoes?” I add in an irritated tone. The floor is cold against my feet, and I can’t help but fantasise about fluffy slippers a little. Or fuzzy socks. Probably not the best look, but right now I’d much rather be in comfy pyjamas, with something warm on my feet, preferably while sitting near a roaring fireplace or something. Goddess, that sounds nice…

  “You won’t need them inside the palace, and I know you hate wearing heels,” Rhydian answers, brushing me off as he turns away. “Are you coming?” he adds as he walks out from my cell, clearly not waiting for my response.

  I frown, nervously tapping at the air in the doorway to ensure that I can actually pass through the invisible barrier this time, before following after him as he leads me down the hallway lined with tiny cells.

  “So, do you guys throw a lot of people in here?” I ask, trying to make conversation. After a few hours with nothing to entertain myself and nobody to talk to, I have an urge to fill the silence with some noise.

  “Does it look like it?” he responds dryly, gesturing to the empty cells as we walk past them.

  “Then why do you have so many of them? Seems a little overkill if you ask me.”

  “Let me clarify, we don’t throw lots of people down here, anymore. Considering barely anyone even knows the palace still exists, there’s no way we could use it now. We have something similar based on Earth, though. It looks just like this place.”

  “Really? These cells don’t even have beds, seems pretty harsh to lock someone in them for any extended period of time. Is the one on earth filled with prisoners?”

  “It’s a dungeon, not a fucking hotel, sweetheart. It’s meant to be harsh.” He gives me a grin before adding, “And I wouldn’t say it’s filled with prisoners, but there’s definitely a lot more people there than there is here.”

  “That could be anything from a few people to a whole lot. Not really much of an answer,” I respond, hoping he’ll elaborate, which of course, in typical Rhydian fashion, he doesn’t.

  “Don’t worry about it. We’ve got bigger things to be concerned about.”

  “What, like pulling off a fake engagement?” I mutter bitterly.

  “Maybe don’t keep calling it that while we’re here,” he responds, rolling his perfect green eyes at me. “You never know where there might be ears listening in. We should be more careful.”

  I’m surprised when he grabs my hand in his, feeling the weird sensation of magic pulsing between us. I try and pull my hand back away from him, causing him to frown and hold on tighter as we come to a halt at the end of the long hallway.

  “We’re hardly going to convince them we’re together if you won’t even hold my hand,” Rhydian mutters quietly, still not letting go.

  “Can you not feel that?” I glance down at our linked hands and then back to his face, wanting to read his reaction.

  “I can, but it doesn’t really bother me. Why, do you think a little magic flowing between us will make it impossible for you to resist jumping my bones to get your magic back?” He keeps his expression annoyingly vacant, but his words send a rush of annoyance and surprise through me.

  “Wait, what?” My jaw fucking drops, like an idiot. “Who the hell told you?”

  Rhydian chuckles, and starts walking again, still holding my hand in his as we leave the dungeon, exiting into a stairwell that only leads up from where we are.

  “Rhydian,” I press as we begin walking up the stairs.

  “Nobody told me anything, sweetheart. It just doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’ve got your magic back from Darren and seeing as you haven’t tried to do the same with any of us…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Why didn’t you?” Rhydian echoes.

  I can’t think of anything to say to that. So we continue up the stairs in silence.

  I’m actually a little grateful for the fact Rhydian didn’t conjure up a pair of heels for me to wear with the dress, all these steps would be murder on my feet otherwise. Not that I tell him that, choosing to remain quiet in order to avoid answering the question he’d left hanging there between us. However, despite my reluctance to answer him, I can’t stop thinking about it.

  Why didn’t I say anything?

  Maybe because I’m afraid. More like terrified.

  Scared to death that admitting to Rhydian the only way to get my magic back, means having sex with him. That doing so will open a door I’ve been trying so hard to keep shut, not just since this link happened, but from the day I met him. And if I admit I’m tempted, that I’ve been tempted all this time, he’ll only push that temptation further.

  I sneak a glance at him, noticing his dark hair is tousled more than usual. I wonder if it’s a style choice, or if he literally rushed out of bed to come rescue me. The thought sends stupid butterflies fluttering through my stomach. The butterflies are morons, and so am I for wanting what I can’t have.

  The temptation is already bad enough as it is, and I don’t know how much of it I can really blame on the magical connection that now exists between us, and how much of the blame rests on me. And yet, I don’t try and pull away from him again as he leads me through the palace, neither of us speaking another word.

  Like the glutton for punishment I am, I let myself enjoy the warmth of his hand, and the sensation of my magic pushing to get back to me through our touching skin. Screw the fact I know it’ll hurt worse when I eventually have to let go.

  I can’t help but hold onto what isn’t mine while I can.

  Fourteen

  Deadly Ultimatum

  As we walk into the room where Rhydian’s family have been waiting, I grip his hand tighter in mine. I’m relieved by the squeeze he gives me back in return, as he leads me over to where Cia and his parents are sitting around a large, oval-shaped table.

  I try to avoid eye contact while we take the two of the empty seats that face across from them. Despite not looking, I swear I can feel Cia’s eyes burning with hatred right through me.

  The clang of something against the hard stone table almost makes me jump out of my seat, only Rhydian’s grip holding me in place. My eyes dart towards the source of the sound, widening as I see what caused it. A dagger. I’m not sure what it’s made from, but it’s almost entirely pitch-black. Somehow a much darker shade than the black of the table it’s resting on. The only break in the colour is a large, green stone on the hilt. I’m no expert, but it doesn’t look like any type of precious gem I’ve ever seen before. There’s an eth
ereal quality about it, the way the light seems to shine through and reflect in a way that gives the impression of a moving wave inside of it.

  “You know what you have to do.”

  Rhydian’s father’s words drag me from my staring and I wonder how long I’ve been held captive by the damn thing. Freaking fae magic. I bet that thing is enchanted. My eyes slowly seem to creep across the table back to the dagger.

  Another quick peek won’t hurt, surely?

  “No,” Rhydian finally answers his father in a blunt tone.

  No, what? Wait—what did he ask him again?

  “You will not disobey my command. Do not forget, I’m not addressing you as just your father, I am also your king.” Even sitting, the man is imposing as hell. How freaking tall is he?

  I finally turn to look at Cia, and just as I’d expected, there’s the burning dislike for me in her glare. What surprises me is the smug smile she’s also wearing. Like she’s just won a prize or something.

  “Fuck your command,” Rhydian responds, his tone vicious. “I won’t do it. You can’t make me.”

  “What’s he talking about?” I demand, pushing myself into the conversation.

  “Nothing. It doesn’t matter because I’m not doing it,” he answers me, but his eyes won’t meet mine, instead looking at the sharp object on the table. I glance between his face and the dagger a few times, feeling my stomach twist with uncertainty.

  “Please tell me that he isn’t asking you to stab me with that thing or something.” A small, hollow laugh escapes my lips. But I definitely didn’t find that funny.

  “Of course not. Slitting your throat would be much more effective. No worries about missing your heart then,” Cia cuts in before he can reply. So much for her not going so far as killing me to get what she wants.

  “Cia!” The Queen scolds, moving one of her hands to rest over her daughter’s. As if she’s holding her back, worried she may try and slit my throat herself if he doesn’t. However, she quickly moves her attention to her husband. “Cirrus, surely there’s a better way to do this?”

  “I want this problem fixed, today, right now—

  Rhydian pulls his hand from mine, and slams it down against the table in a move that I’m sure hurt him a lot more than it did the durable piece furniture that he just took his aggression out on. “Nobody is killing Kayla. You can make me do a lot, but I will not be forced to do this. This is the line I will not fucking cross for you, do you understand me, King Cirrus?” Rhydian seethes, his voice turning mocking at the use of his father’s title.

  As my heart begins thumping harder in my chest, I bite my lip to keep in any remarks that might somehow push this situation over the edge. Rhydian knows how to handle his family. He can get me out of here if something goes wrong. I repeat the short mantra over in my head, praying to the goddess herself that it’s true. That he’ll protect me if push comes to shove. Because my weak-ass magic at the moment certainly won’t save me.

  Nervously, I glance at the staring match going on between the father and son. Rhydian looks pissed. Like he’s seriously offended that his father would suggest such a thing, though I wouldn’t say he looks entirely surprised. Cirrus drums his fingers against the table, the rings covering them clinking slightly as he does. I swear, the only place I’ve seen someone wearing more rings on one hand is in a rap video, or in a portrait of a French aristocrat; Pre-guillotine, obviously.

  “Perhaps I misjudged the situation,” The King finally says, in a much calmer tone than before, though insincere it may be.

  “Yes. You have,” Rhydian agrees, and I feel his hand move to rest on my knee under the table. I breathe a little easier knowing he’s trying to show me some reassurance. He’s got my back… he won’t let them stab me with that thing. I think.

  “Fine, I will allow you one chance to remedy the situation, without killing the lovely… what was your name again?” he turns his gaze on me, the green in his eyes appearing much darker than his son’s.

  Suddenly, I feel the need for a resurgence in the trend of beheading rich assholes.

  “Kayla,” Rhydian practically growls, answering for me, which is probably a good thing. I may have got myself into trouble with a much more sarcastic response if he hadn’t.

  “Yes, Kayla. What a nice name for a witch,” Rhydian’s mother comments, as if there’s a need for the reminder of what I am. Bitch.

  “Can we just cut to the point, what is it that you want from me?” he asks his family, not directing the question at any of them in particular.

  “For you to do exactly as you say intended, but on a quicker time scale. This dragging out your engagement just isn’t fair on your younger sister,” The Queen answers, sounding as fake and pleasant as ever. And a little too prepared to answer the question.

  “Wait… speed up the timeframe by how much?” I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut this time. Had they prepared the whole intimidation thing with the dagger to trick Rhydian into agreeing with this?

  “Within the next week. There’s a full moon on Saturday, the perfect opportunity to cement such an occasion,” she answers, still not skipping a beat.

  Saturday? As in, six freaking days away, Saturday?

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rhydian responds.

  Damn fucking right it is.

  “You can’t expect us to plan the whole thing and pull it off in less than a week,” he continues to argue.

  Yeah, or find another way out of this mess in that short a timeframe.

  “With access to all of our resources and magic? You could plan such an affair in a day,” his mother dismisses the concerns off as if they’re trivial.

  “Unless you are only doing this to get in my way and you don’t actually want to marry her?” Cia adds, earning another scathing look from her mother. Clearly Cia was meant to be seen here, and not heard. Not that she seems to be having any of it. “What, like we’re not all thinking it? I mean, it is mighty convenient that he’s only telling us all about this now.”

  “Of course I want to marry her. I just don’t want to have to rush this. Kayla deserves better,” Rhydian mutters his lie rather convincingly, before breaking into a sigh and turning his focus back to the fae king. “Saturday is too soon. We can call off our engagement for now. We’ll both consent to the break if you grant it. Meaning Cia can proceed with her engagement, and neither of us has to get stabbed.”

  Or have their throat slit, as his sister so charmingly suggested before.

  “I will not grant you freedom from your engagement. The only way out, is if you take it yourself,” his father answers, gesturing at the dagger still resting on the table.

  “What do you mean you won’t do it?” This time, Rhydian does seem taken aback by his father’s words.

  “You have two options. Marry her, or kill her. If she becomes a part of this family, her knowing our secrets is acceptable, even if she is a witch. As your wife, we will be able to count on her loyalty to you, as her loyalty to us. If she doesn’t have that, then there’s really no reason to allow someone of such little consequence to have such sensitive information.”

  “You can’t just murder me if I don’t marry your son,” I blurt in an incredulous voice, drawing everyone’s attention entirely onto me. “I mean, it’s a little overkill,” I add nervously. Surely a memory spell, while dangerous, would be preferable to cold-blooded murder?

  “What world are you in right now and whose laws do you think apply here?” The King questions me humourlessly.

  Shit. Would anyone even be able to do anything about this if they did find out what happened to me? Where does the law stand on the murder of a witch in the fae realm? I mean, nobody even knows this place still exists…

  “We’ll do it,” Rhydian answers, pulling all the attention back away from me. My stomach drops and I pull my knee out from under his hand beneath the table. I’m not sure how much of me is annoyed at him answering for both of us, and how much of me is relived that he’s willing to go through w
ith this to save my life. Even if it is his fault we’re in this ridiculous situation anyway.

  “You’re not serious!” Cia exclaims, apparently fully having expected her brother to take the murder option.

  “As I’ve been telling you, little sister, my feelings for Kayla are genuine, and not just to mess with your wedding plans. I didn’t want to rush things, is all, but as you’re forcing our hands, I guess we’ll just have to move up our schedule.” He shrugs, giving a decent performance all things considered. I might even believe him if I didn’t know better.

  “You’ve never been able to commit to anything in your life, not even being who you were born to be, and you expect us to believe you’re going to marry this witch, and commit to her forever?” Cia argues back, apparently not convinced. She lets out a derisive laugh, before adding snidely, “You may as well just kill her now. You’ll have to at some point in the future once you tire of her.”

  “Cia, your brother has agreed. You should leave, now,” The King commands.

  “You can’t be—

  “Go, now!” he booms, and I swear the whole damn room shakes with his power. As if the entire palace is linked with his magic and emotions somehow.

  “Yes, father,” she mutters, sliding off her chair. She gives me and her older brother a final glare, before stalking out of the room, looking very much a petulant teenager, and way too young to be getting married. The door opens and closes itself for her, slamming shut with a loud bang. My feelings war with loathing her for being such a brat, and actually feeling a little sorry for her. She can’t really think she’s ready for all this.

  “Now we are free of immature distractions, let me be very clear. I don’t give a damn if you only did this to infuriate us, you will go through with this wedding within the week, or I will ensure the engagement is null and void myself, so that Cia and Aven can be wed. Do you agree to my terms or must I take this dagger and plunge it into the witch’s chest myself?” Cirrus questions his son in a cold, brutal tone.