“Nonsense,” he replies as we gain speed. “Iwill survive.”
Never in a thousand years did I expect my wedding night to end like this. In truth, since I stepped foot on that ship, I’ve had very little control over my fate. I could muster the strength to fight him. Kick and scratch until he let me go, but then instead of a mess on the ceiling, I’d end up a mess on the floor and as for reasoning with the wicked prince of the Mordorin, time was not on my side. It would all be over in seconds. So I look into his eyes. Resigned to my fate.
“Please keep safe The Grove, Prince Daedelus.”
Our eyes meet just before we reach the ceiling. I brace myself and imagine at this speed, the end will be quick and painless. I am partly correct. There is no pain.
Because there is no impact.
A swirl of black smoke engulfs us, thick as treading water and stinking of sulfur. This in-between place is a realm of darkness. I can see nothing, not Daed’s face, nor my own hand. But we are not alone here. I feel a presence coming closer. I feel the walls of eternity closing in on me. Then something appears. A single, giant eye and a gaping mouth with a serpent’s forked tongue lashing out at me as it screams.
My throat tightens around my horror, not allowing a single sound to escape, but as swiftly as it all happens, a resounding pop deafens me and when the smoke clears, I am reacquainted with the unwelcome sting of icy rain upon my skin.
What is happening to me? Why am I being tormented?
I look up and squint at the bright ivory moon floating in a pitch black sky, and when I look down, I see the fortress and the steepled roof of the throne room that should have been myend. My stomach churns and before I can stop it I expel a sickly stream of vomit that plummets towards the courtyard.
I gasp, then cover my mouth, my eyes wide with shame.
Daed winces. “Charming.”
He pins back his wings and descends and I waver in and out of consciousness until I feel a thud as we touch down. Through half-open eyes, I recognize the balcony outside my bedchamber and the billowing gossamer curtains over the arches. Daed pushes them aside and as he strides, I find myself hypnotized by his heavy breaths and the pounding of his heart. He comes to a stop and bends over, and the sinking softness of the bed replaces the ropey muscles of his arms as he lays me down.
“Am I going to be sick again?” I mutter.
“Perhaps. Void walking does not sit well with the human anatomy. But we have not cared to test it thoroughly. It was brief, so you should be fine.”
Daed’s words patter in my ears like rain as my vision blurs and I wrestle to keep my wits. His hands run over my body as if searching for something, and I recall the bold words he exchanged with his court in the throne room.
Is this truly happening? Am I being bedded here and now…like this?
I ball the bed covers in my fists and twist my legs together, but the prince is strong.
He pulls the covers from my hands and pins me to the bed.
“Be still,” he mutters. “Before you do further damage to yourself.”
My senses fade from me and my mind drifts in and out of waking, but each time I stir, he is still there, holding me down.
“Wait,” I whimper.
I wince at the sting of something tightening across my palm, my eyes flashing open long enough to watch Daed walk around the bed towards the door. His shirt is unbuttoned, revealingevery smooth, defined line of his torso, from the sculpted planes of his chest to the taut ridges of his abdomen. But I notice part of his shirt ripped away.
The hand he pinned down rests beside my head, and I feel a binding warmth around my palm. I turn and find it bandaged with the missing fabric of Daed’s shirt. Slowly, I regain my senses as the haze lifts from my mind, and when I look down, I find my gown intact and my maidenhood intact.
The door handle turns and I call out to him. “You do not…lay with me?”
My cheeks redden and I do not understand why I ask such a thing. I should be happy he did not touch me, ecstatic beyond belief that my husband did not force me to serve him as I vowed.
Daed puts his hands against the door and leans into the wood. “I do not,” he replies, his dark hair soaked with rain that drips down his neck, his shirt not only torn in the front but also across his shoulder blades where his wings burst forth. “I am drunk and weary, and your bed does not entice me, little human.”
Again, his answer should satisfy, but I persist.
“But is this notourroom? Do you not sleep here… with me?”
He turns his head enough for me to sight the sharpness of his jawline and a single drop of rain beading at the tip of his nose. “I take my rest in my tower across the courtyard, and I will find comfort in someone’s bed tonight, but it will not be yours. Goodnight, wife.”
He pulls open the doors, strides out, then slams them behind him, leaving me confused and racked with uncertainty. Instead of coldly bedding me, he took care of me, yet had the callousness to throw insults before abandoning me all together.
