Page 52 of Vow to Claim You

“You will do your job.” Vidar’s voice drops to a growl that vibrates through the floorboards, and he taps his cane. “You are both aware of the terms.”

The terms.

My throat constricts. He doesn’t have to spell them out—I read them, every clause, every line, until the ink blurred and the words rearranged themselves into the same verdict no matter how many times I looked. A living heir, or forfeiture of life. A child, or a coffin.

Twelve months.

The clock has been ticking since the day I married, and every morning I wake one day closer to a deadline that ends in a child or ends in me.

A cold shudder sweeps up my back, but I keep my face smooth, blank.

But the thing that sends my pulse into a frenzy now is the thought of my father-in-law literally ordering his son to fuck me over the breakfast table.

Aric lets out a humorless laugh, a sound entirely devoid of amusement. “Enjoy your breakfast, Father.”

He draws me up from my chair, and he leads me out, his hand never once letting go of mine.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Ayanna

Aric leaves within the hour. The low murmur of orders in the foyer. The front door closing. The growl of an engine swallowed whole by the snow. Then I’m left alone in this enormous mansion with nothing to do.

I spend the morning with Elske. At one point, she drops a stick at my feet and stares at me.

I stare back. “And I supposed to throw that?”

Elske huffs. The answer is apparently yes.

So I do, and she chases it. Bringing it back, however, seems to be entirely beneath her. Instead, she sits several yards away with the stick in her mouth and looks at me expectantly.

Right. Apparently I’m supposed to fetch now.

After lunch, I have tea with Ingrid. She tells me stories about Aric as a child. Most of them seem impossible. A young Aric hiding from tutors. A young Aric climbing trees. A young Aric sneaking Elske into the house despite Vidar’s objections.

I find myself smiling more than once, which is unfortunate, because every story somehow makes him feel more human.

And humanizing Aric Vold feels dangerous.

Later, I take a bath, sinking into jasmine-scented water (my favorite) until my my fingers wrinkle. I tell myself it’s relaxation. It’s not. It’s just one more way to kill an afternoon that refuses to die.

I sigh.

I’m useless here.

In Monsera, I had purpose. I had duties, responsibilities, a schedule carved down to the quarter hour. State dinners to attend. Diplomatic visits to prepare for. Charities to oversee. Languages to practice. I was a princess, and being a princess meant being useful.

Here, I’m a womb on a deadline.

Aric goes off to run an empire, Vidar plots from the head of his table, Eero comes and goes as he pleases—and I drift through this beautiful frozen house like a ghost who hasn’t been told she’s dead.

It’s maddening. It’s humiliating. It’s a slow, quiet erasure I don’t know how to fight.

What am I supposed to do with myself?

I don’t know how to be useless. I don’t know how to exist without function.

So my goal for today: find something to do.