Sterling Read Online Free PDF Page A

tolerate infidelity—I’d never expected a happy marriage except in my secret fairy tale fantasies—but I did not wish to be humiliated in front of everyone. He would dance with me, this once, if never again.
    My parents had never cozened me into believing my prospects were good. In terms of his status as a son and heir to one of the Ten Houses, Erich Talata represented a prime catch. But I was the princess now, and no matter how ugly I might be, marriage to me advanced Erich. He ought to show respect for that fact.
    He reminded me of a surly dog. I’d have to train him. The thought made me giggle despite my anxieties.
    Erich swung his head around to stare at me. “Are you laughing?”
    The first strains of the valta began. I slid my arm beneath his to force it into position. Finally, he complied, though he moved with the approximate animation of a corpse.
    “I am laughing,” I told him. “At you.”
    “At me ?” His perfect features froze.
    “Yes,” I affirmed, even as an overwhelming tingling erupted wherever his gloved hands touched me. “I would not have guessed a man could be so squeamish.” But he wasn’t that squeamish, not if he could sniff at a woman’s private parts. At a ball! In a dark corner, sniffing a bound woman like a hunting dog. What kind of man was I marrying?
    “Squeamish?” His steps livened a little. The tingling intensified between our palms.
    “You haven’t even seen me yet. What do you imagine? Boils? Pus? Peeling skin?”
    “How old are you?” he demanded.
    “How old are you?” I countered.
    “Twenty-three. Now you.”
    “I’m seventeen,” I replied. “Old enough to marry.”
    “I’ll never marry you.”
    My smile tightened. What a child. Did he not understand his duty? Our marriage represented the alliance of two vast provinces; it would solidify the new rule of Lethemia.
    “We made a promise in front of the leaders of the land,” I informed him. “Surely you will not shirk your duty and break your word.”
    “I made no promises,” he sulked. “My mother promised for me.”
    I leaned towards him. He pulled back. “Do you think it’s catching?” I snapped.
    “What?”
    “Ugliness. Do you think you’ll get tainted with it? Too bad it doesn’t work that way. We ugly ones suffer alone. We cannot force you to feel what we feel. Listen to me, Erich Talata. You’ll marry me. Do you want to know why? Because my father is the King. You may flagrantly disobey everyone else in your path, but you won’t break a promise to Xander Ricknagel. He does not stand for broken promises.”
    His disgust was written across his face. It hurt. His horror of touching me hurt more than name-calling, more than the quiet rejection I usually faced in public. As soon as the set finished, he whipped his hands away, but he studied me closely, his eyebrows drawn together. He crossed his arms and moved as far from me as he could, scowling. “Did you—what did you—are you all right?”
    His words barely registered. Surely rumors were already flying: Erich Talata could not stand to even touch ugly Sterling Ricknagel.
    “I’m fine,” I snapped, offered him a perfunctory curtsey, and refused to watch where he headed next.
    I followed Serafina’s advice for facing down the world: Hold your head up, meet everyone in the eye, and give them nothing to hold over you. I downed a glass of sparkling wine. Then I searched for another dance partner, determined not to reveal my distress. But when the next piece began, Papa was immersed in conversation with a dark-haired girl dressed as an Eastern navel dancer. I did a double-take, thinking it might be Ghilene Entila. But no, this woman was not as tall as Ghilene Entila, though she had the same inky black waves of hair.
    I scowled as I watched him flirt with the girl. I wanted to crawl into a corner and scream. I hated watching Papa flirt with a stranger as much as I hated imagining him with Ghilene Entila. As I turned away from Papa’s