Etain stood before the door, frowning, her heart quivering in her chest. There was nothing sinister about the door, which seemed unfair. The lair of a monster should look the part.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when it was jerked open.

Marcus took half a step forward then stopped dead, a fierce scowl drifting into a puzzled, gentle frown. He looked at Etain as though he didn't know who she was.

"You sent for a meal." She hefted the heavy tray up off her hip, arms trembling slightly under the weight of all the food and silver. 

Marcus blinked, his expression smoothing into nothing. A perfect, blank mask. Then, a smile. A lovely, ruthless smile that made Etain ill to see. That odd, shivery feeling deep in her guts started up again, and she wanted nothing more than to use the heavy tray to smash that expression off his face. 

"Mostly," he said on a sigh, "I believe I am damned. And then, well, then there are times like these."

Without another word, he took the tray in one hand and grabbed her wrist with the other. Etain bit hard into the inside of her cheek, the taste of copper on her tongue. Or maybe it was fear that tasted so awful and metallic.

The prince put the tray on a low table, not so much as flinching when it slipped from the edge and crashed to the ground. Etain gaped at the food spattered across the flagstones, stumbling in the prince's wake as he dragged her through his rooms. 

"Your--Your Highness," she managed, hating how weak and breathless her voice was as he jerked her through the door leading into the bedchamber. Fear and confusion had sucked all the strength from her words. 

"Don't call me that," he said, somewhat off-handedly, releasing her hand. "Stay there."

Etain's breath puffed out in a shaky cloud of steam. It was freezing in the prince's quarters. 

"Put this on."

She barely lifted her arms in time to catch what the prince threw at her. It was soft and smelled sweet. It was heavy. Etain slowly lowered her arms, staring at the crushed velvet. The soft burr of a match drew goosebumps on her arms as candlelight fell over the fabric.

Red. Glistening like rubies. Like blood.

Small diamonds twinkled there, sewn into the folds of the fabric. 

"What--"

"There will be time for questions later." He laughed, sending a chill up her spine. "Perhaps not for answers. Put it on, lovely. We have someplace to be. Slippers are by the door."

Then he left the room, muttering something about hair.

The slam of the door made her flinch. All of the little scraps of rumor and gossip and information she had gathered over the last three days slipped to the back of her mind. There, but...forgotten in the wake of this new madness of the prince's.

Swallowing against a chalk-dry throat, Etain placed the dress on the messy bed. That shivery feeling was still there in her chest, making her hands shake as she undid the laces of her shirt and pulled it over her head. She undid the strip of cloth binding her breasts, then slipped out of her trousers.

The cold made her shiver and she hurried into the gown, sighing in exasperation when she realized it did not lace up the front. She fought with the stays until at least her lower back was covered, then gave up with a soft curse. She couldn't reach any higher. 

How she hated him. 

After muttering a prayer and one more curse, Etain stalked out of the bedchamber. Marcus stood before the window, staring out at the snow, still talking rapidly under his breath. Etain closed the door and the prince jerked around, eyes wide like he had forgotten she was there. 

His eyes traced up and down before he wrinkled his nose. "I'm afraid red isn't particularly your color, lovely. But it will do for now. Turn."

Biting into her cheek again, Etain shuffled around as he came toward her. He laced up the rest of the dress with speed and skill Etain hadn't expected. The material was pulled tight enough to show off her figure, without cutting off her breath. 

A necklace was looped around her neck, a square-cut gem set in silver resting heavy between the hollow of her collarbones. Her hair was taken out of its braid and caught up by what felt to be a heavy clasp. Then, earrings were put in her lobes before a hand on her elbow spun her back around. 

The prince's gaze roved over her again, his eyes bright, manic. 

"If I had more time, I would dye your hair," he mused. "But then, there's nothing to be done about those eyes. And perhaps it's better. He always expects me to do something odd, anyhow. I would hate to disappoint."

Her lips formed a question, but she didn't get the chance to ask before Marcus once again took her by the arm and dragged her after him. Etain let them get peacefully through the royal quarters before she dug her heels in, the thin silk of the slippers affording her no grip on the smooth stones. Flinging out a hand, she managed to catch the edge of a window and clung on, jerking them both to a halt. 

Marcus turned to her with a sigh. "I can always knock you out and throw you over my shoulder."

"But that's so much more work than simply telling me what this is about." Etain gritted her teeth, nails trying to find purchase on the stone as he yanked at her other wrist.

"No." He shook his head, flashing that horrid smile again. "You...don't get to question me. You've already failed me once. You still owe me. Your debt is piling up, lovely."

Etain bristled, but didn't budge. "If you expect me to be successful at whatever this is, I need to know. You need to tell me. That way I can pull off whatever mad play this is about to be."

Marcus suddenly stopped pulling on her wrist and stared at her, brows lowering in frustration. He pursed his lips, looked away then at her then back away. "How...vexing. I rather dislike when people question me and then manage to find a logical reason to do so."

She blinked slowly at him, a droll smile plastering itself on her face. "No wonder you make so many mistakes if you have no one to question you. Perhaps you should surround yourself with more intelligent friends. Who knows, you might find someone who stops you from being beaten bloody every week."

"Only if they can stop the gods themselves," Marcus said with a laugh. The sound cut off as he frowned at her, that puzzled expression once more crossing his face. He watched her for an uncomfortably long time, then shook his head. "No. I don't want intelligent friends. Or...friends. I want people who are useful. People who can simply do as they're told and understand that I know better."

He really was breathtakingly arrogant. Not even her cousin, with all his accomplishments, was this bad. Not even on his worst days. 

"And...I'm useful like this?" She dipped her chin to indicate the dress, unwilling to release her death-grip on the window just yet. She held her breath, waiting to see if he would allow her to wheedle the answers she wanted from him.

"Ah." He huffed a laugh, giving a half-smile. "Almost everyone is more useful in nice clothes. People lower their guards around pretty things. It gives a veneer of civility, you see."

"Are we doing something...uncivil?" Etain allowed herself to be disengaged from the window when he tugged at her wrist. 

He staggered back a step, obviously caught off guard. It didn't last long before he was back to dragging her down the hallway leading to a twisting staircase. Etain slowed herself using the banister when he showed no sign of answering her question.

Marcus snarled, looking seconds away from throwing her down the stairs and collecting whatever pieces were left at the landing. 

"Are we doing something uncivil?"

"How about...you get into the carriage that's waiting for us and then I will answer that question."

"Among others. Not just this one, because it doesn't really tell me anything. Does it?"

He actually bared his teeth and hissed, like some fell, fae creature who couldn't believe it had been caught in its own game. Those golden eyes sparked with fury before settling into flat indifference. He gave her that snake stare of his, then shrugged. "I...will answer questions pertinent to what we are doing this evening."

Good enough. Etain flipped her wrist, sliding out of his grip and began descending the stairs, smiling when he cursed and rushed to catch up with her. This time, he took her elbow, his grip gentlemanly. Like he was escorting a lady through the palace rather than forcing a slave beyond the walls. 

Not another word was spoken as they made their way out of the palace, Etain trying not to shrink beneath the odd, appalled stares aimed at her and the prince. She didn't object as he helped her up into the carriage, throwing himself down on the velvet-covered bench beside her.

His shoulder almost overlapped hers, his thigh pressed along her leg. Everywhere he touched she could feel burning heat. Her gaze drifted to his hand where it rested on his lap. Memories of that hand wrapped around her throat flickered in the back of her mind. 

He was always so warm. Too warm, nearly hot. Like he was always running a fever.

"Are you ill?" The question slipped out with no thought on Etain's part, shocking her more than anyone else. 

Marcus didn't even glance at her, his eyes trained on the passing scenery. 

She cleared her throat. "Where are we going?" When he didn't move, she clenched her teeth. "That question is pertinent to what we are doing this evening."

The prince sighed. "Of course I pick the only intelligent slave in the entire palace," he said under his breath, somehow making it sound like an insult. Then, "My brother's country estate."

"Which brother?"

"Which do you think? If you're going to be intelligent at least try to be that way all the time." He gave her a look of disgust before going back to staring out the window, his breath fogging the chilled glass.

Malitech, then.

"And why would you go visit a man you hate?" Etain ran her fingers over the velvet of her skirt, reveling in the fabric. It had been so long since she'd worn something so nice to touch. 

"Because he invited me."

Etain gave a small frown, still stroking the velvet. The prince gave her a sideways glance, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, obviously back to enjoying himself now he had the upper hand. 

For a while, the only sound was the thunder of wheels over cobblestones and the dull roar of the crowds beyond the carriage walls. Marcus didn't spare her another glance, humming under his breath as he watched the world pass outside the window. Etain chewed on the inside of her lip, not bothering to hide that she was studying the prince.

Such a strange creature he was. 

Full of malice and violence. Frustratingly clever. Mildly kind, when he chose to be. He was not like anyone she had ever met before, and that was where most of her frustrations lay. She didn't know how to handle him. How to respond. To attack or retreat in an effort to manipulate him to her will.

"Why did Malitech invite you to his country estate," she finally ventured. "Why do you need to bring me? Why must I wear such a silly costume?"

He tilted his head. "Is it a costume?"

Etain stiffened as his gaze cut into her. He couldn't possibly know. There was no way for him to have that information.

"Why do you need to bring me?" she repeated, curling her fingers into the fabric of her skirt.

Marcus leaned his head against the bench with a sigh. "Distraction, mostly. And to give the silly birds something to gossip about for a while. They like to talk about how mad I am, you see."

"Are you?" Etain asked, staring at him, trying to learn how to read his face. "Mad, that is?"

"That doesn't seem to pertain to our business tonight," he said, voice lilting in a slight sing-song.

She couldn't stop the soft huff of a laugh that came from her. "I suppose I already know the answer to that one." His mouth quirked in response, but he didn't speak, so Etain pressed again. "You said I will be a distraction. A distraction for what? For who?"

"For me. For them."

Etain closed her eyes briefly, willing herself to patience. Fell, fae creature. Perhaps she needed to use the same rules the stories taught about dealings with the fairies and apply them to Marcus. Specific questions to garner specific answers. 

Except...Marcus could lie.

He wouldn't be warded away by wreaths of rowan or holly berries tucked in a pocket. The iron cuff that wrapped her bicep to mark her a slave of the palace wouldn't stay his hand. 

"Why do you need a distraction? What are you planning to accomplish while I provide such a thing?"

"I need a distraction so no one is paying attention to what I do."

"Obviously!" Etain yelled, turning in her seat so she was facing the prince directly. Her cheeks flushed hot, her body shaking with anger. He was absolutely infuriating. Ten times worse than the most despicable fairie prince. She glared at him, hands itching to wrap around his throat. "Tell me what is happening tonight, Marcus, or so help me, I will--"

"Are you threatening me?" His quiet voice cut through her tirade like a cold knife.

Etain choked on her next words, the reality of her situation crashing over her like a wave. Just because she believed he wouldn't kill her didn't mean he actually wouldn't. Nothing was stopping him from cutting her throat and simply tossing her still-twitching corpse into the street.

No one would ask any questions. There would be no consequence. She would just be dead.

She couldn't do anything if she was dead. 

Trying to calm her breathing, Etain sat back in the seat, leaning away from him. She swallowed down the rest of her anger and shook her head. "No," she whispered, trying to hide the shaking in her voice. "All I want is to understand what you are asking of me. I don't know why I am here, in this ridiculous dress, traveling to Malitech's country estate. For all I know, you and your unhinged brother are planning to sacrifice me in some beastly ritual to your pitiless gods and eat my heart for dinner."

"Well that's an oddly specific scenario," Marcus said, lifting a brow. Then he sighed, passing his hand over his eyes. 

"Will it really hurt your ego so much to just tell me what it is you want me to do, Your Highness?"

"Let's just stick with 'Marcus", shall we?" The prince rubbed harder at his eyes. "You've already dispensed with the niceties."

Etain bit the inside of her cheek. Foolish girl, she berated herself. A slave in your country would have been killed for doing the same thing.

"If I give you enough of the details will you do a better job of controlling your temper?" Marcus asked, propping his chin on his hand. "I'm about to put you through something horrible. Snap like that at the wrong person and you just might find your heart removed from your body. Though...not for our pitiless gods."

It had been too long since she'd let her temper have its rein. She hadn't meant to let it get the better of her.

"That's what I've been telling you this whole time. If I know what I'm facing I can fight with more skill." She kept her eyes downcast in an effort to not glare at him. "No matter how horrible."

"Mm." The prince looked at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling with amusement. "We'll see." He let out a weighty sigh, slouching down in the seat. "I'm afraid tonight, you're nothing more than a plaything, lovely. Mine, mostly. But I intend to disappear for a brief moment tonight in pursuit of something you and I both desire. I need you to be exotic and strange enough to keep my brother's attention on you instead of me."

A sinkhole opened in her stomach, making her feel ill. 

"What..." She swallowed hard against the sudden pressure in her throat. "What is there you and I both desire?"

He stared blankly at her, like he was trying to work out a calculation in his head. Etain held her tongue, wanting to prove that she could be patient and docile if she put her mind to it. 

Slowly, he reached into his jacket, pulling a scrap of paper from an inner pocket. He unfolded it with care, leaning his shoulder against hers as he showed it to her. Etain recognized it as the paper stolen from Malitech's study all those days ago. The one with the strange runes on it.

Like her language, but not. 

"I told you I would get you more, didn't I?" he said, breath hot on her ear. 

Etain turned to face him, flinching back when her nose brushed his cheek. Heart thumping, she turned stare at the paper. "You think more of these runes will be present at your brother's country estate?"

"Mm, that's what I intend to find out." Marcus tucked the paper into his jacket, leaning back into the seat. Etain breathed a sigh of relief as he gave her a bit more space. "My dear brother is hiding something out here. All other attempts at finding out what have failed. So I thought I might as well take the direct approach."

Etain chewed on that for a moment. They passed beyond the walls surrounding Levitum by the time she worked up the nerve to ask the most obvious question. "Why...would Malitech invite you out here? He hates you."

The enmity between the two oldest princes was known to everyone.

"That's what makes all of this so fascinating," Marcus said, grinning. "From what I understand, quite a few people have received an invitation. Mostly the children of powerful men in my father's court. Which, admittedly isn't strange. My brother has many friends among the rich and powerful. They always found it more palatable to flock to him than my sister. Why he wants me there is the more interesting bit."

So we're simply attending one of Malitech's famous parties. What was so hard about saying that? Etain kept her thoughts off her face, waiting for him to continue.

"I'm bringing you because you very conveniently showed up at my door." Marcus snorted. "But also because dressing up a slave so obviously from Brunia and parading her about as my newest plaything is likely to be the only thing more interesting than my presence at this party. He'll be so busy watching you, trying to figure out if you are one of my spies, he won't bother to watch me."

If his head gets any bigger it's going to break the carriage. Etain squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, rubbing at the headache brewing just behind her temple. Good enough. At least I know what I'm being dragged into.

"There," she said finally, absently patting his knee. "See? It didn't kill you to share. It also saved you a slap to the face if you tried to kiss me again."

Marcus stared at his leg where she had touched him, another puzzled expression passing across his face. He furrowed his brows, watching her from the corner of his eye. Etain paid him no attention, trying to prepare herself for this evening.

Marcus had been telling the truth when he said he was going to put her through something rather horrid. 

"Kiss me."

The words sent a jolt down her spine as she twisted to face the prince. His face was blank, his words so bland she wondered if she'd misheard him. Then a devilish smile twisted his mouth. "You'll have to be convincing tonight, lovely. You should at least be able to kiss me without that horrified expression crossing your face at the mere thought."

Etain sat perfectly still, like a rabbit being watched by a wolf. She hated that he frightened her so much, but couldn't deny that every instinct she possessed screamed that she should be frightened of him.

He was dangerous, and it was foolish to not be frightened of dangerous things.

"Kiss me," he said again, voice calm and clinical. Detached. 

"I... Sh-shouldn't we wait until it's necessary?" Etain picked at the edge of her nail, hiding the nervous habit beneath a fold of her skirt. 

Marcus smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. "You have to be a bit more difficult if my brother is going to believe you're truly one of mine."

Bewildered silence filled the carriage. Etain immediately understood he was testing her, and there were really only two options. Obedience, or...

She matched his snake smile and reached out to cup his face, digging her nails into his jaw. His eyes flashed with that same odd expression, but he just continued to smile as she leaned a little closer. Etain brushed her lips against his cheek as she leaned to whisper in his ear, "I am one of yours, but truth be told, I'd rather cut your throat."

That earned her a snicker, his hands coming to her waist. "Hello, little wicked thing," he whispered back, teeth grazing the corner of her jaw. "There's the brave Brunian my brother will remember."

Then he abruptly pushed her away. Etain fell back against the door, glaring at him.

"You need to remember what you just said. You're one of mine, lovely." He ran a hand through his hair, pushing long strands out of his bruised face. "My brother thinks it rather fun sport to hunt my spies. Sometimes he sends them back in pieces." He reached out to brush her cheek, making a shudder run through her entire body. "I would hate to see those pretty blue eyes in a box."

She didn't look at him as she knocked his hand away, turning to the window.

The heat of his body nearing her back warned her before his voice sounded right by her ear. "Do you understand everything I just taught you?"

Obey him, but look reluctant. 

A plaything, he had called her. A distraction. The girl warming his bed, not his spy.

She lifted her eyes, searching for the moon in the dark sky. But trees stretched their limbs over the road, hiding the sky from her. Trapping her here on the ground, in this wretched place.

"Do you think he would reward me if I really did cut your throat?" she asked, keeping her voice steady. "He does hate you."

"Would you like to try it and find out?" The genuine curiosity in his voice turned her stomach. 

"Don't tempt me."

"The sharper the blade the more fun it is to play with." Marcus slumped back down against the seat beside her. "You, lovely, are the best plaything I've had in years."