Curse of the Celts by Clara O'Connor (most romantic novels .TXT) 📕

Queen to king. Checkmate. His move was final, but I didn’t have to play on his board.

“You do not get to command me to do anything. I am your sister.” But my voice shook; he was my only family and all he was concerned about was what he might use me for – like everyone before him. “I am not your subject. I will marry who I choose. Not the Empire. Not you.”

My anger was met head on.

“You will do as I tell you. ” He looked down at his desk, his voice still cool. I had noticed that it was something he did when his control was starting to slip. I was beginning to sense that his temper was every bit as volatile as mine; he just hid it better. And my refusal was definitely triggering him. He was not used to being defied.

He took a deep breath before rounding the desk and resting back on it, his body leaning towards me as he granted a single concession.

“He can remain your protector. But he is an outcast. He ranks lower than the cur at my heel. And you will accept that, or I will have his head separated from his body.”

His face was utterly expressionless. He was in deadly earnest. The power of life and death lay in his hands and here in the Briton world, there was no mitigation by the commons. His word was law.

My hand was shaking as I held it out to him. A denial, a plea, I couldn’t think. My vision blurred.

What could I say to make him change his mind? He couldn’t do this to us.

He took my hand in both of his and pulled it to his chest. His face softened.

“Catriona.” He caressed the name in awed tones, as if now that the hard part was out of the way, he could take a moment to acknowledge me as his sister again.

“Please, don’t do this.” My voice cracked.

His jaw flexed.

“I warned him that I would not forgive him a third time,” he ground out. “I warned him. And he lied to me.”

“He didn’t lie,” I rushed. “He just couldn’t tell you yet.”

“And why, dear sister, could he not tell me?”

He knew precisely why. This was why I hadn’t seen him last night; he had been cooling off. Thinking. Examining the moves on the chessboard. Deverell had figured out the reason for our delay, thus compounding our initial mistake. I hadn’t thought through to the next move on the board. He had. I said nothing.

He flung my hand away and kicked the chair beside him, sending it crashing into the wall. I could feel the suck of energy. By this man’s side was where Gideon had learned to soothe the powerful; the icy control was a veil my brother drew over a power that felt as wild as my own untutored kind.

“He has deceived me for the last time. I never want to hear his voice again.” He was vibrating with emotion. “It is enough that I allow him to stay with you. He is the Griffin; it is his gods-bound duty, and I will not break that. But no more shall he have.”

I saw my life stretching out in front of me. Locked into marriage with Marcus as yet another regime manipulated us for their own purposes while Devyn was consigned to the shadows of my life. At least in the city I had been trapped in a cage spun with sugar and pretty promises. Here, I was being propelled into the same future against every fibre of my will. Blackmailed into submission by threats against the one thing I cared about. At least my parents had pretended to love me, even though we shared no blood. Yet here stood my full-blood brother, destroying me with every word. My parents had disowned me and I had understood that somehow. But this action by this man whom I did not know inspired more heartbreak than my abandonment by the parents who had raised me. In this moment, I had never hated anyone more.

“I regret that this is hard for you, but my decision is final.”

I left the room without another word, making my way to find Marcus. He wouldn’t agree to this. He needed to tell them.

I found him in Ewan’s room, messing about with potions. When I told him what had happened, he didn’t seem surprised. “It seems that everyone wants us to marry except you and me.”

“Tell them you don’t want to marry me. They can’t marry us if you refuse,” I urged. How had I not thought of this before? Marcus was the Prince of York; he could not be forced into this against his will.

“Devyn will be pardoned as long as you go along with this,” he reminded me. “I will agree because it will buy us some time. We’ll figure out the rest.”

“How?”

“You doubt that I can fix this? Here in the Wilds, where we know no one and understand even less, with these infernal cuffs tying us together and everyone watching us?” His lips twisted wryly. “I’m hurt.”

A laugh bubbled inside me. He was right, but we had been in tighter spots before.

I finally pulled myself together and answered him.

“Okay, husband-never-to be, let’s get us out of this.”

That evening I ate alone in my room, pleading a headache. The next day, Bronwyn and I met as usual for our morning ride, barely out of the bailey gate before she rounded on me.

“Cass, I need to talk to you. About you and Devyn,” she started.

“Did my brother send you?”

“What? No.” Her face was heavy with concern under her deep hood. “When I told you before that you and the Griffin can’t be together, I thought that you understood.”

“I do understand,” I said tightly. Marcus was going to figure it out. I just needed to appear to accept it. To pretend, even to my friends. “Rion has made it perfectly clear. I’m to marry Marcus, just