Chapter 2 My Husband Has Terrible Manners

Lysander Bellrose

I woke up married to a serpent. Technically, I had gone to sleep married to a serpent, too, but the distinction did little to improve my situation.

The first thing I noticed was the enormous bed. The second was the unfamiliar ceiling decorated with silver serpents. The third was the absolute silence surrounding me.

I lay there for several seconds, staring upward. Then I remembered everything. My father. The treaty. The journey to Nagaeon. The terrifyingly handsome king with cold eyes and a personality that could make a funeral seem cheerful.

Sylas Nocthar. My husband. I pulled the blanket over my face. "I want a refund." Unfortunately, the universe had never been particularly generous toward me, and apparently, it wasn't about to start now. A knock sounded at the door. "Your Highness?" I lowered the blanket. Your Highness. That was me. How unfortunate.

"Come in," I called. The door opened, and a woman entered carrying a silver tray. She wore a dark uniform, her black hair neatly arranged in a bun. Her expression was perfectly composed, which immediately made me suspicious.

People who looked that calm in a palace full of supernatural creatures were either exceptionally brave or exceptionally good at hiding their desire to scream.

"Good morning, Your Highness. I am Mara, the royal attendant assigned to your chambers." "Wonderful. Does your job description include helping unfortunate humans escape through windows?"

Her expression didn't change. "I am afraid not, Your Highness." "Shame. You could have earned a very generous tip." "I shall inform the head attendant of your disappointment." I stared at her, and she stared back. Oh, I was going to like this woman. Or she was going to have me thrown into a dungeon. Either possibility seemed equally likely. Mara placed the tray on a nearby table. "His Majesty requests your presence at breakfast." "Requests?" "Yes, Your Highness." "How polite of him." "He also expects you to be ready within half an hour." I looked down at myself. I was wearing a loose sleeping shirt that definitely hadn't belonged to me before yesterday.

My hair probably looked like a bird had attempted to build a nest on my head, and I hadn't even brushed my teeth.

"Tell His Majesty that his husband is currently negotiating with his bed." Mara blinked. For the first time, her composed expression cracked. Only slightly, but I saw it. "His Majesty may not appreciate that response." "Then perhaps His Majesty should have married someone who appreciates being ordered around." Mara pressed her lips together. I suspected she was fighting a smile, but unfortunately, she recovered quickly. "I shall prepare your clothes, Your Highness." And just like that, I had lost my first battle of the morning. Half an hour later, I stood in front of a mirror while two attendants adjusted the ridiculous amount of fabric wrapped around my body. The outfit was black, embroidered with silver thread along the collar and sleeves. A silver serpent clasp held the cloak over my shoulders, its tiny jeweled eyes gleaming whenever I moved. I looked expensive. I also looked like I had been kidnapped by a very wealthy cult. "Is all this necessary?" I asked. "Royal tradition, Your Highness," one attendant replied. "Does royal tradition require me to wear enough fabric to smother a small village?" Neither woman answered. I sighed. Fine. If I had to live in this palace, I would at least make sure the servants remembered me as the most irritating consort Nagaeon had ever acquired. When Mara finally led me out, I discovered that the palace was even larger than I had imagined. Black marble floors stretched beneath towering pillars. Silver lanterns floated near the ceiling without chains or visible support. Enormous windows overlooked gardens filled with flowers that glowed faintly in the morning light. Everywhere I looked, there were serpents. Carved into the walls. Woven into tapestries. Embroidered onto curtains. I was beginning to suspect the king had a serious obsession. Then again, if I had been born with scales instead of common sense, perhaps I would decorate everything with pictures of myself, too. We passed several servants, who immediately bowed. "Your Highness." "Your Highness." "Your Highness." I smiled at them. "Good morning. Lovely weather for a kingdom ruled by reptiles." Mara made a strangled noise beside me. I continued walking as though I hadn't said anything unusual. By the time we reached the dining hall, I had decided that if I survived the next month, I deserved a medal. Preferably one made of gold. The dining hall doors opened, and there he was. Sylas Nocthar sat at the head of a long black table, dressed in a fitted black shirt with silver buttons. His dark hair was neatly arranged, and his expression suggested that the entire world had personally disappointed him before breakfast. A cup rested beside his right hand. He didn't look up when I entered. I stopped at the doorway. "Good morning to you, too, dear husband." His fingers paused around the cup. Slowly, he raised his eyes. Those cold, unnervingly golden eyes settled on me. "You're late." I glanced at the enormous windows. The sun had barely risen. "Am I? I must have missed the royal announcement declaring that breakfast begins before the birds wake up." "Sit down, Lysander." "Please, after you, Your Majesty. Oh, wait. You're already sitting." His gaze sharpened. I smiled sweetly. It was a terrible habit of mine, smiling at people who could have me executed. Perhaps I needed a hobby. Sylas gestured toward the chair on his right. I took my time walking over and pulled it out. The moment I sat down, a servant placed a plate in front of me. There was bread, fruit, eggs, and something that looked suspiciously like a tiny roasted animal. I pointed at it. "What is that?" "Spiced river serpent, Your Highness," the servant answered. I slowly lowered my fork. "Of course it is." Sylas continued drinking his tea. I turned toward him. "Do you eat your relatives often, or is this a special occasion?" The room became so quiet I could hear the faint crackle of the lanterns. Sylas lowered his cup. "Are you always this irritating?" "Only when I'm hungry." "Then eat." "Gladly. As long as you promise not to serve me your cousin next." The servant looked as though she wanted to disappear into the floor. Sylas, however, merely studied me. For one uncomfortable moment, I thought he might actually smile. He didn't. Instead, he returned his attention to his tea. "You're a strange human." "And you're a strange husband. I suppose we're both learning." "I don't intend to learn anything from you." "Excellent. That saves us both the trouble." I reached for the bread. Breakfast was going wonderfully. I had barely finished eating when Sylas dismissed the servants. That was never a good sign. I watched the last attendant leave before turning back to my husband. "Should I be concerned?" "That depends." "On what?" "Whether you intend to behave yourself." I leaned back in my chair. "Define behave." His expression remained unchanged. "You will not leave the palace grounds without permission. You will not enter the eastern wing. You will not interfere with royal affairs. And you will not approach the royal council unless summoned." I counted the rules on my fingers. "Anything else? Should I stop breathing without permission, too?" "If necessary." I stared at him, and he stared back. Then I laughed. Not because he was funny, but because if I didn't laugh, I might start wondering whether I had made the worst decision of my life by not throwing myself off the carriage somewhere along the journey. "You're serious." "Entirely." "Wonderful. I've married a tyrant." "You married the Serpent King." "Same thing, apparently." Sylas rose from his chair. Even sitting down, he had seemed intimidating. Standing, he was worse. He approached me with the measured confidence of someone who had never once considered that another person might refuse him. I refused to move. He stopped beside my chair. "You will remember your position in this palace, Lysander." I tilted my head back to look at him. "And you will remember mine, Sylas." Something shifted in his expression. Perhaps it was surprise. Perhaps it was irritation. I couldn't tell, and I wasn't particularly interested in finding out. "I am your consort," I continued. "Not your prisoner, not your servant, and certainly not one of your decorative little statues. If you expect me to live here, then you can at least treat me like a person." His gaze turned colder. "Be careful." "Or what?" The words escaped before common sense could tackle them to the ground. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Sylas leaned closer. "Do you truly believe you understand the danger of provoking me?" "No," I answered honestly. "But I'm beginning to understand why you eat breakfast alone." Silence. Absolute, magnificent silence. I was going to die. I was definitely going to die. And the worst part was that I would deserve it. Sylas straightened. "Your rooms are on the western side of the palace. You will remain there until I decide otherwise." "How generous." "Do not mistake my restraint for kindness." "I wouldn't dream of it." He turned toward the door. I watched him leave, my heart pounding far more violently than I wanted to admit. The doors closed behind him. I remained in my chair, then slowly lowered my head onto the table. "Father," I whispered to the empty room, "I hope the money was worth it."

I was beginning to understand the rules of Nagaeon. The servants feared the king. The guards obeyed the king. The council feared disappointing the king. And the king appeared to hate absolutely everyone. It was an impressive achievement, really.

By midday, Mara had shown me the gardens, the library, and several corridors I had already forgotten.

She had also warned me three times not to approach the eastern wing. Naturally, that was the only place I wanted to see. "What is in the eastern wing?" I asked. "Private royal chambers and restricted rooms." "That sounds suspiciously like a place where someone keeps a terrible secret." "Your Highness." "What? I'm only curious." "Curiosity can be dangerous here." I glanced at her. For the first time since arriving, she looked genuinely serious. I decided not to push her. Not because I was obedient, but because I preferred discovering secrets while alive. We returned to my chambers shortly before dusk. Mara helped me remove the heavy cloak, then bowed. "His Majesty may not dine with you tonight." I looked up from the book I had been pretending to read. "May not?" "He has other obligations." "Royal obligations?" "Yes, Your Highness." I narrowed my eyes. There was something peculiar about the way she answered. "What sort of obligations?" Mara hesitated. Only for a second, but it was enough. "The king's private affairs are not for me to discuss." Ah. I understood. Or at least, I suspected I did. The Serpent King had married me yesterday, ordered me around this morning, and now had no intention of spending the evening with his new husband. How romantic. Truly, poets would weep. "Don't worry," I told her. "I'm not expecting him to serenade me beneath the moonlight." Mara's expression softened. "His Majesty has always lived according to his own rules." "Then he should be delighted to learn that I do the same." She bowed and left. I waited until the door closed before tossing the book aside.

I wasn't jealous. Absolutely not. I had known Sylas for approximately one day. I didn't love him, I didn't trust him, and I certainly wasn't going to develop feelings for a man who regarded me like an inconvenient piece of furniture. Besides, I wasn't even sure what I wanted romantically.

I had never planned to marry a man, let alone one who looked as though he had stepped out of a painter's most expensive fantasy. But finding someone handsome didn't mean I wanted to spend my life with him. And being married didn't mean I had to pretend everything was perfect.

I walked to the window. The gardens below were bathed in silver moonlight. Somewhere in the distance, bells rang, their haunting notes drifting across the palace grounds.

Then I noticed movement near the opposite courtyard. A group of servants hurried through a side entrance. One carried a tray covered with a black cloth.

Another held a bottle of dark glass. A third walked ahead of them, checking the corridor before allowing them to proceed. They were heading toward the private wing. The eastern wing. I watched them disappear behind the towering doors.

My curiosity stirred. I knew I had been warned not to go there. I also knew that Sylas Nocthar was keeping something from me.

And if there was one thing I disliked more than being ordered around, it was being left in the dark.

I stepped away from the window. "No," I muttered to myself. "Absolutely not. I am not stupid enough to investigate a forbidden wing in a palace full of supernatural murderers." I returned to my bed. Sat down. Stared at the wall. Stood up again. "Damn it."

Ten minutes later, I was standing in the corridor wearing a dark robe and carrying a candle. I wasn't investigating anything. I was simply taking a walk. A completely innocent walk. In the direction of the eastern wing. If anyone asked, I was looking for the bathroom. A very distant bathroom.

I reached the corner and stopped. Voices drifted through the corridor ahead. One belonged to a servant. The other was unmistakably Sylas's. "Has the preparation been completed?" the king asked. "Yes, Your Majesty." "And the partner?" "Waiting in your private chamber." My fingers tightened around the candle. Partner? I stared at the darkness ahead. "Will you require anything else tonight?" the servant asked. "No. Leave us."

Footsteps approached, and I immediately ducked behind a pillar. The servant passed without noticing me. I waited until the footsteps faded before peering around the corner.

Sylas stood before a set of tall black doors. He had changed out of his morning clothes. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his silver hair ornament had been removed, leaving his dark hair slightly disheveled.

He looked different. Not kinder. Not warmer. Just less like a king attending a public execution. He opened the doors, and before entering, he paused. For one absurd second, I thought he might turn toward my hiding place. Instead, he stepped inside, and the doors closed. I stood perfectly still.

My husband had a partner waiting in his private chamber. On the second night of our marriage. I should have felt angry.

I should have felt betrayed. Instead, I felt a strange, cold amusement settle in my chest. So that was how it would be. Sylas Nocthar could have his private chambers, his secrets, and his mysterious partners. And I could have my freedom. I turned away from the forbidden wing. "Fine," I whispered. "Have your fun, Your Majesty." I walked back toward my rooms, lifting my chin. "If my husband wants to behave like a stranger, I'll treat him like one."

I had no intention of chasing him. No intention of begging for his attention.

And absolutely no intention of crying over a man who had never promised me love. But as I reached my door, one thought followed me inside. If Sylas Nocthar believed I would quietly accept whatever he did simply because he was king, he had made a terrible mistake.

I was Lysander Bellrose. And I had never been particularly good at obeying rules.