Marissa Holsteins's Arc

Chapter 4 of 10

Angelica led Marissa up the stair and into the throne room. Red and gold banners hung from the high windows, each marked with a heart. Marissa carried her jar and pushed the milk machine on its wheels. Her hands still shook from the dungeon. She fixed her eyes on the throne ahead and rehearsed the lie. The king sat on a great gold chair heaped with rose petals. Blake Wilding wore a red robe open to his chest, gold chains stacked on his skin. He watched Marissa cross the floor. A slow smile spread under his dark beard. Angelica stopped a step behind Marissa and kept her face blank. But Marissa felt the knight go stiff at her shoulder. "Your majesty," Marissa said. She lifted the jar. "I came a long way to bring you this. My milk. There is none like it in the land." She poured a thick golden stream into a cup and held it out. "Drink, and you'll see." Blake did not take the cup. He leaned forward and looked her over, from her horns to her boots. "The milk is fine," he said. "But I want the cow." He rose from the petals and stepped down. "A source like you belongs in my house. I'll make you my wife. Then I drink from you every morning for the rest of my days." Marissa's stomach dropped. She had come to serve one cup. Now he wanted to own her. Behind her, Angelica's gauntlet closed hard on her sword grip. The king caught the sound and turned. "My guard," Blake said. "You brought her to me. Why do you grip your blade?" Marissa spoke fast, before Angelica could ruin them both. "She guards your prize, majesty. There's a witch loose in your castle. She tried to steal my milk in the dungeon." She let the fear into her voice, and it was real. "Take the milk. Please. But I'm no wife. I'm just a dairy maid." Blake studied her. He took the cup at last and drank. His eyes went wide. He drained it and licked the rim. "By every heart on these walls," he said. "You'll pour this for me forever." He set the cup down. "A dairy maid is a fine thing to own. But a wife is finer. I've decided. The wedding is at dusk." He waved a hand. "Guard. Take her to a room and lock the door. See she doesn't wander." Angelica bowed her head. "Yes, majesty." Her voice held steady. She gripped Marissa's arm and marched her from the hall. In the corridor, out of the king's sight, Angelica's grip turned gentle. She leaned close. "He drank it," she whispered. "That was the plan. But now he's marrying you by dusk." Her jaw tightened. "We have until then to get you out."