Twelve

“What are you doing here?” I asked him.

He looked surprised. “Seems we grew a backbone in the short time you’ve become royalty. No hug? It’s been so long since you last saw your dear brother.” Magnus opened his arms and moved toward me.

I ducked away from his touch. “Have you forgotten your place? Do not touch me without permission, or I can have your hands cut off.”

His eyes darkened and he growled slightly.

“I think you’re the one who has forgotten her place. Does your new husband know just who you are? How we pick you up from the slums and take you in? Now look at you, acting all high and mighty before me, the person who made you who you are.”

I fought the urge to spit on him. “My husband knows well who I am, and he loves me all the more for it. He did not marry me for status or reputation, or he would never have chosen our family to begin with.”

“You bitch,” he snarled. In the next moment, he launched himself at me and grabbed hold of my neck to wrap his other hand around my mouth