She’d spent her life obedient to her father. Arguing with him never worked; she always backed down. Not this time. She knew he’d spelled her; she’d almost fallen for a daimon because of Adam’s secrecy. “Evelyn and Kaleb will answer my questions. I know it, and you know it.”

“Bath first. You’ll feel better. If you really want to know later . . .”

“You promise you’ll tell me?” she prompted.

He sighed sadly and whispered words in his witch language. Then he said gently, “You need to be a good daughter now. Go pour that in the tub, and soak for a half hour.”

“Yes, Daddy.” Mallory felt herself struggling not to say the words that were pulled to her lips. There were questions she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. Her hands tightened on the pitcher. “Daddy?”

Her father paused.

“This isn’t fair,” she forced out. “What you’re doing. It’s not fair.”

Her father sighed. “You’re my family, Mals. The daimons took everyone else. Your mother left; Evelyn lives for revenge; and everyone is . . . dead. I have a plan, but I need more time. One of these days, I won’t erase your memories, but for now, your forgetfulness is the best option I have. Go soak.”

How much have I forgotten? The urge to drop the pitcher vied with the compulsion her father was leveraging on her. I will not forget Kaleb. She tried to let go, but only managed to remove one hand.

“I’m sorry.” Her father kissed her forehead. “I love you, and . . . you can hate me later if you need to, but I can’t let them destroy you too.”

“I know, but I have questions. If you tell me, maybe I can help—”

“No. You’d be in more danger if you knew—from others too. I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you everything.” He paused, but then he continued, “Are you a good daughter?”

“I am,” Mallory said reluctantly.

“Will you go take your medicine, Mals?” he asked.

There were tears in both their eyes as she nodded.

Good daughters obey.

CHAPTER 24

BY THE TIME KALEB got back to The City, he had a plan. It wasn’t the wisest of ideas, but he wasn’t about to give up on Mallory, and now that the witch knew he was interested in her, Kaleb was certain that getting anywhere near her would be impossible.

Unless I have undeniable authority to see her.

With no small amount of trepidation, Kaleb went directly to the palace and requested an audience with Marchosias.

“Tell him that it’s urgent,” he added.

So less than two hours after he had arrived at Mallory’s door facing the witch she called a father, Kaleb stood facing her biological father. Marchosias hadn’t looked surprised when Kaleb walked into the enormous room.

He sat at a beautiful carved desk with towering stacks of papers. He lowered his pen and leaned back in his chair. “Well, what is this urgent matter?”

“I’d like to offer a bride-price for your daughter,” Kaleb said.

Marchosias motioned for him to continue.

“She’s old enough to breed or to wed, but the witch who calls her his daughter won’t let me near her.” Kaleb hesitated at the thought of admitting how thoroughly and seemingly easily Adam had brought him to his knees. “If I were to marry her, he couldn’t stop me—short of killing me, which would kill or injure Mallory.”

Casually, Marchosias pushed his chair back and stood. “The witch’s marriage spell won’t bind you if she has no affection for you.”

“I know,” Kaleb said.

“If you have had indication of affection, that means you knew where she was and didn’t see fit to tell me,” Marchosias said mildly. “Am I understanding this correctly?”

“You are.” Kaleb held Marchosias’ gaze. “I was hired to kill her, but I’ve reconsidered that contract.”

“And how is my brother going to feel about the broken contract?” Marchosias asked, correctly identifying the contract holder but seemingly undisturbed by Haage’s treasonous actions. “I’m assuming you’re clever enough not to have told him yet.”

“I am. If I’m part of the ruling class, I’ll be a difficult contract—and most of the black-masks good enough to try for me know that I’d be a better ally than enemy.” Kaleb didn’t ask how Marchosias knew—or how long he’d known—about Haage’s contract on Mallory. Instead, he tried to appear calm. He folded his arms over his chest. “I’m ranked high in the contest, and I’m about to marry your daughter and father the heir to The City. Unless you kill me, I should be pretty safe.”

With a laugh, Marchosias called for his aides, and in hardly more time than it took to cross the room, three daimons had appeared in front of Marchosias. “Fetch my witch too,” he told one of them. “And one of the girls in my quarters.”

The other two daimons waited, but Marchosias ignored them. He draped an arm over Kaleb’s shoulders companionably and directed him to a window that overlooked the carnival.

“You’ll bring her home,” Marchosias remarked.

“I will if she is mine to bring here,” Kaleb promised.

“What coin do you have to pay for my daughter?”

There was the problem: Kaleb had very few actual coins, certainly not enough to pay for Mallory. He could, however, earn them. He thought about the woman offering her markers after the fight and the number of daimons who would offer for Aya as well. He could secure ample funds in time. “I’ll pay whatever you ask.”

“You live in a cave, and you expect me to believe you have sufficient coin to buy her?” Marchosias shook his head.

“I can earn it,” Kaleb clarified. “I haven’t been taking a lot of jobs because of the competition, but I have been wearing a black mask for several years, and there are other ways I can raise coin if need be.”

“In one year, she’ll be eighteen. I will award her to you for that year, but at the end of that, she will be here and pregnant, or the marriage will be dissolved and you’ll be dead.” Marchosias flashed his teeth in a smile of sorts. “That’s the price: your life if you fail.”

“Fine.” Kaleb nodded. “Let me know when the contract is ready to sign.”

Marchosias walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. “I knew you’d found her before you came to me. You can’t think I don’t have Haage—or his lackeys—under watch.” Marchosias withdrew a contract and motioned for Kaleb to approach. “Come.”

Kaleb looked at the contract. Everything he had wanted was about to be his. All he had to do was sign. He lifted the pen and stared down at the words. The terms didn’t actually matter. As a cur, he had no room to negotiate.

“Ahhh! The bride proxy is here.” Marchosias smiled at a girl who was brought into the room, half asleep and entirely unclothed. “Come over here.” He held out a hand to the girl, and then paused and glanced at Kaleb. “Unless you have another proxy in mind?”

“No,” Kaleb said.

“Sign then.” Marchosias nodded at the contract. “I’m sure you’ll be wanting to get on with the nuptials.”

As the girl, the daimons, and the witch watched, Kaleb signed the contract.

“Go on then. Finish the wedding.” Marchosias motioned at the girl.

“Where?”

Marchosias opened his arms expansively. “Aside from my desk, the entire room is open. Pick a spot.”

“It’s okay, Kaleb,” the girl told him. “I volunteered.”

Kaleb knew that his proxy wedding wasn’t personal, but as he looked from the proxy bride to his ruler, he felt worse than he usually did after he’d whored himself. It was a clear reminder of who had the true power, or perhaps it was merely business. If Mallory had been present for the marriage, perhaps they’d have had privacy, but she wasn’t, and Kaleb still had to finish the wedding in order for it to be binding. He consummated the ceremony in front of the requisite witnesses and witch. All the while, Marchosias continued his paperwork.

When the act was done, Marchosias watched as the witnesses affixed their signatures to the contract, and then handed it to the witch, who did whatever trickery was necessary to make the proxy service binding. The proxy remained on the floor, making the already tawdry process even less appealing. It was far more than Kaleb had the right to hope for as a cur: he’d just been wed to the daughter of The City’s ruler. He was a part of the ruling class now. At least for the next year. But the silent, naked daimon who stayed supine on the floor made Kaleb feel worse than he could explain—and he hoped never to have to tell Mallory about the proxy wedding. She was raised by a witch; she’d expect a different sort of ceremony one day.