Her shadows flared from above her shoulders, weaving through the sheerfabric draped across her breasts, sliding the strips down her shoulders just enough that her breasts were fully revealed to him. More tendrils weaved around his arm and he fell to his knees, looking much like a male collapsing in front of an altar.
Their lips met almost instantly, his hands coming up to tangle in her hair—to bring her closer, to feel her skin against his. His hand moved from her hair to her neck, both of them groaning when his thumb brushed over the most delicate patch of skin along the side of it. It was her whimpering that pulled him from his pheromone-induced stupor. With an unsatisfactory groan, he fell away from her, quickly readjusting the straps of her dress before he rose to his feet again. He averted his eyes away from her spread thighs—teeth nearly turning to powder at the sight of her.
Even if it was his body’s natural reaction to such a pungent smell, he still felt horrible. Sick, almost. This ceremony was sacred to Drikierans, but Kaya had no idea what she’d gotten herself into. His senses were heightened, as was the smell of her arousal. It took all of the strength he possessed in his body to not to act on any of the wild fantasies plaguing his thoughts.
“Kaya,” he tried to breathe through his mouth, hoping that it would ease the overwhelming urges. “Kaya, please get off your knees. Stand up.” He was begging, his voice straining against the growl that threatened at the back of his throat.
She nodded, pushing herself up just slightly, only to collapse back onto the bedrolls. “I can’t.”
Ilias let out an exasperated sigh, dropping to one knee. “Listen, I need to talk to you. And I will need your complete and undivided attention when I do.” He reached into his pocket, retrieving the letter Keegan gave him.
Curl.
Uncurl.
Kaya writhed, hands brushing over her limbs to seemingly satiate an itch she could not scratch. “What is that?” She swallowed, her eyes flickering from the quickened pulse in his neck to the parchment bunched in his fist.
“Your father sent a messenger. And what I am about to tell you—” He sucked in a breath, jaw clamping together when Kaya began crawling towards him,her hands like fire on his skin when she took the letter from him.
He watched her eyes scan each word, watched as her brow crumpled, tears forming in her eyes.
A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach, jaw aching and pooling with saliva as she read the final sentence. It was a statement—a demand. As if she had absolutely no control over herself and that her desires and wishes meant nothing.
How could her father do this?
How could he use her as a bribe—as a way to keep his people safe?
She was one of his people, too. Holiadon was her home,too.
She felt her shadows start to tremble, the parchment in her hands fluttering as if her shadows had taken hold of her limbs. “I’m going to be sick.” The last word was clipped, her hand flying to her mouth as she launched herself to her feet and ran towards the opening of the tent. Her stomach contracted, throat burning with bile and remnants of alcohol and jam. Her brow dampened with a cold sweat as she fell to the earthen floor and vomited, tears burning her eyes.
Between heaves and blubbering noises, Kaya choked on her sobs—her heart feeling as if it was ripped in two. It was an unfathomable feeling of hurt and betrayal, overwhelming in such a way that her limbs ached.
Her father was a noble man. He was a fair and just ruler and he went above and beyond to provide for those he cared for. So the fact that he would simply throw her to the wolves and use her as if she meant nothing.
Memories flooded her mind, memories of a young girl perched upon her father’s shoulders as he walked her through the half-built halls of a castle that should have been, but was not, her home. Memories of gentle kisses pressed upon her brow as he tucked her in, of hiding amongst the overgrown and dense greenery behind their cabin—her father searching through the veil of foliage to find her and the way he smiled as he lifted her into his arms.
That girl had been adaughter.
Not a princess.
Not a Blessing.
She was Kaya. But it seemed as if the Dark Bringer had erased her identitycompletely and turned her into someone else entirely—at least in the eyes of Alder Aesa.
“Kaya—”
She growled deep in her chest, her eyes laced with pure venom and hurt when she cast her hateful glare upon Ilias. The male was crouched at her side, his hand hovering over her bare back. “Do.Not. Call. Me. That.”
Ilias let out a deep breath, swallowing thickly as he tucked his hand back to his side. “Ailikaya, I may have a solution to this. There might be a way to prevent this…marriage.” The word left a sour taste in his mouth, an unfamiliar rage flickering in his chest at the image of her at the hands of the Credulans. Splayed across their beds, wearing their colors—
He closed his eyes, suckling deeply at the air around him to calm himself. “You could marry me, instead. Right here. Right now.” Kaya’s eyes softened, her brow knitting together as she fell back into a kneeling position. “I wouldn’t expect anything of you. Hell, we wouldn’t even have to live with one another and I won’t touch you. There will be—”
“Alright.” She gasped, swallowing around the burning that still plagued her raw throat. “I’ll do anything. I can’t. Iwon’tcommit myself to the Credulans. Not after everything they’ve done.” She palmed the tears off of her cheeks, smearing the black coal liner that had stained them. “Look at them, Ilias. Look at these people all around us—at the children who lost their parents, at those males searching for another partner because their loved ones died.” Another mewling sound formed at the back of her throat, her mouth opening and closing as if words were caught around the lump that had formed there.
Ilias went still. Everything went completely and utterly still. Because he’d been the biggest fool of them all to believe the image she tried so desperately to portray. Kaya was not spoiled, nor was she insensitive. She was just scared. Though the ways that she battled her fears were peculiar, they were her own. But before he could dwell any further on the thought, he was instinctively pulling her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. To shield her from the world—from her heartbreak, from her tragedy. She shivered against him, allowing herself to feel his warmth against her cold, prickled skin. His heart beat against her cheek, his hands moving in a gentle caress, rubbing soothing circles into the bared flesh of her hunched back.
“I know.” Ilias whispered. “I know.”
