The Goblin's Throne

Chapter Twenty Two: Brittle

"Bastard!" I screamed, throwing everything I could get my hands on around my room. How dare Lysander do that to me? Bad enough he had to kiss me, but insinuate that I had feelings for him? What gave him the right to kiss me? I'd made it clear time and time again where my affections lied. I told him no. I'd thought he at least knew the meaning of that word. What happened to respecting my marriage? Even as I raged, a heat remained in my belly and color flooded my cheeks. I could still feel the phantom of his body pressed against me, the heat of his mouth on mine. It sickened me how my treacherous body reacted to him and it made my anger burn all the worse. "Pompous ass!" I roared.

The door opened just as I hurled a bowl at it. It whizzed by dreadfully close to Cerise' head and smashed against the hall wall behind her. She looked down at the shards of clay pottery then at me, her eyes large and glistening. She hurried inside, shutting the door tight behind her. "What happened?"

"I'm sorry," I said with a wavering voice. "I thought you'd be with Demetrius tonight. I wasn't trying to hit you."  I wanted to scream and cry and roar all the same time. 

She flew to me and held my arms firmly in each hand. She looked me directly in the eyes, a look of complete dread on her face. "Never mind that. What happened, Matilda?"

It took me a moment to muster the words. "Lysander kissed me." The words flowed from my mouth easily once I let them out. I turned my eyes away as shame washed over me. 

"He kissed you? Was that all? Was that all that happened?" She asked, her hands tightening around my arms bruising tight. I couldn't help but notice that she sounded almost relieved. 

"Isn't that bad enough?"

"Worse things have happened here. I was afraid Lysander was more like his father than I thought." She swallowed hard and my eyes were drawn back to the scar on her throat. She smiled softly at me, her relief now evident. "I'm glad you're unhurt." Taking me by the hand, she drew me down onto my pallet. We sat across from each other with her squeezing my hands in her own. "Now, tell me everything so I know how much to hate him."

I went through everything, leaving out nothing. What he'd said, what he did, how I'd felt. What he accused me of. She listened silently, squeezing my hands when I came to the bits that were difficult to admit. "I should have told Knut about him. If he'd known that Lysander tried to kiss me back at The Upheaval, we might have killed all the faeries years ago."

"Forgive me for asking this," She began, looking at me sheepishly, "But why didn't you tell Knut?"

"I-I don't know," I shrugged. My memory went back to that day, to that moment when he'd wished me luck and leaned forward. I'd thought he was going to kiss me then and I'm sure he meant to but changed his mind at the very last moment. He'd kissed my cheek instead. "I guess I felt indebted to him back then. As faeries go he's not awful. Well, he wasn't. He helped me save Knut. Without him, I probably never would have reached him in time."

She tilted her head slightly. Her rich brown hair fell over her shoulder as she studied my face. "Are you attracted to him?"

My insides seemed to burst into flame at her question. My skin burned as if a torch had been set against the nape of my neck. I yanked my hands back and clutched them tightly in my lap. "I admit that this is all my fault. I flirted with him six years ago, but it was a ploy to get him on my side. And like everything else, it blew up in my face. I love Knut. I would never betray him. Not like that nor in any other way."

"That's not what I asked you. I know you love your husband. That's not in question. I asked if you found Lysander attractive." She said. I scowled at her, clenching my teeth behind silent lips. "If you did, no one would blame you." She went on when I gave no answer. "Lysander is intelligent, proud, and ambitious. All things you seem to admire in men. Not to mention, he is extremely good looking if you can forgive his height."