Solena fetches a thin, silk nightgown from the wardrobe and slips it over my head before gently tying the delicate ribbon at the bustline, cinching the ivory fabric snugly against my chest. She guides me to the dresser and sits me down, disassembling my hair, removing the emerald comb and then softly and methodically brushing it through.
I lose myself within the comb’s glinting prisms. It’s like another world within the hard gem and seems so still and so safe that I foolishly wish I could shrink and runaway there to escape all this. Solena lays the brush on the dresser to signal she is finished, then strolls to bed and pulls back the covers.
“Will that be all, Your Highness?”
I rise and drift toward the arch, dodging the falling rain as I gaze out at the rolling ocean. The sounds of festivities float through the air, laughter and music echoing off the stone walls. My mind feels like a prism, fragmented like the emerald in the comb I clutch. Thoughts and feelings swirl within me so intensely that I can’t focus on any one thing. Instead, it’s a chaotic blend of smoke and ash, moonlight and shadows, desire and despair.
Life was so much simpler before I set foot on that ship—perhaps too simple. Now, I feel utterly unprepared for what I’ve endured—mentally, physically, emotionally—and even more so for what lies ahead. I know nothing of the houses or the Fae laws, nor what is expected of a Fae wife. I don’t know how to respond to a husband’s touch, whether to refuse him or to surrender myself completely.
I am the Jewel of the Tenders, chosen among my people to serve and guide. Yet here in Baev’kalath, I can’t shake the fear that I am merely the frail human they perceive me to be.
“Your Highness,” Solena calls again, her voice cutting through my thoughts. “Are you alright?”
I offer a smile, but little else. With the weight of the weeks dragging me down, I trudge to bed, shoulders slumped and head low, suddenly too tired to care about anything else but the relief of sinking between the sheets. I lie down, immediately cradled by the plush welcoming mattress, and I pull the covers up to my chin. The doors softly click when Solena leaves and my chest fills with warmth as I stare hazily at the canopy above the bed, my eyes struggling to stay open a second longer. But sleep escapes me. My head falls to the side and I stare at the empty pillow next to me. I imagine Daed there, the silk sheets crumpled at his waist while a tattooed hand rests on his muscled chest, his gray eyes stirring a desire in me I cannot reconcile.
How can I consider myself fiercely strong with sound judgment while I lie in the bed of my enemy, desperately craving the touch of a man who wants nothing to do with me, so much so that he would send me back across the ocean from where I came?
I picture his smile, full soft lips drawing back to reveal sharp canine teeth that scrape against my skin when he kisses my neck. Did he make her feel this way? The Fae woman Lanneth spoke of. I know nothing about her, but just the idea of her fuels me with an anger that has me thrashing my legs restlessly against the silk sheets.
Who was she? A dull ache strikes me through the chest. Did he love her? I am so exhausted, so conflicted, so bitterly lonely, that even a visit from the apparition would be welcomed. Anything to take my mind off the fact that Daed despises me, and the indigestible realization that I do not despise him as I once did. But the apparition does not come, and when my eyes finally fall shut, it is Daed’s face that follows me to my sleep.
It feels like no time has passed at all when I feel the cold blade against my throat.
“Get up, human,” a voice snarls, hard and rough like gravel.
Chapter 15
My eyes flash open and I recognize the Fae Lord of Mor’Thravar hovering above me, his teeth grit, his eyes fierce and furious as the moonlight strikes him across the face.
“I said get up.Now,” Modok growls, pushing the blade deeper against my neck, so deep I’m too afraid to gulp. “And do not waste your energy calling for help.” Modok twists his fingers and I notice the air around us shimmer, as if we’re surrounded by a transparent wall. “No one can hear you within my boundary.”
He rips off the covers, and my hands move to hide the curves of my body, clearly outlined through the thin fabric of my nightdress. Modok’s gaze skims over me, and a deviant grin tugs the corner of his mouth. The feeling of his vile eyes upon me makes me want to lash out, ire swelling in my belly. But I am reminded of the knife at my throat, and how easy it would be for him to kill me. Tonight will not be the end of my story.
I slide up from the bed, mindful of the closeness of his blade. It is then I see we are not alone. Four of his men wander the room, rifling through my things. Their filthy hands are in my jewelry box, and flinging dresses from the wardrobe, taking whateverthey want and stuffing it into black sacks. Modok notices my grimace as I watch them.
“For our troubles,” he sniggers. “Baev’kalath has so much, and we so little. But we will take all we can from them tonight.” My breath hitches when he drags his blade down my neck and rests it just above my breasts. “Starting with their precious human whore.”
The sound of his men’s laughter fuels my rage. Of all the things I despise, feeling helpless is the one I loathe most, and I will not be some timid lamb waiting to be slaughtered.
“You know what the prince will do to you if you kill me,” I say through grit teeth. “He will tear you limb from limb and burn your miserable house to ash.”
His eyes narrow with a knowing glare, and I realize Daed had threatened him similarly during the banquet. In a place I should not have been, during a conversation I should not have heard.
“I do not fear Daedalus,” Modok mutters, his upper lip twitching.
I grin defiantly. “Yes, you do. That is why you have snuck into his wife’s chambers in the dead of night like a coward instead of facing him.”
Modok snarls, closing the space between us, his heavy breath beating down on my face. “Maybe I won’t kill you,” he says, sliding the point of his blade lower down my chest. “Maybe I fly you back to Mor’Thravar and demand a ransom. Let us see how much Kaelus and his pathetic excuse for a Mordorin son will pay for their princess.”
Modok jerks his blade, slicing effortlessly through the ribbon of my nightdress. My body stiffens as the flimsy fabric falls open down the middle of my chest, exposing the sides of my breasts. Modok’s eyes widen, his teeth scraping against his bottom lip.
“Who knows? It could take weeks, even months, for them to come for you. Mor’Thravar is a remote and formidable fortress.”The point of his blade finds the shivering flesh of my breast, toying with the thin layer of fabric that keeps my dignity intact. “We would need to find something to amuse ourselves while we wait.”
My face twists with disgust. “Touch me and it will be the last thing you do.”
Modok laughs. “Why should the prince have all the fun?”
His men stop ransacking and instead stop depravedly to watch their lord. Modok steps closer, stinking of sweat and wine, and when his body presses to mine, the rough leather of his tunic scraping my skin, my stomach churns. “I’ve never had a human before,” he growls.
