“No,” I growl through my teeth. “Don’ttouchme.”
His sigh is long as he stands before stalking to the foot of the bed. The king is not a man I would call strong and neither is he built that way. Where Nox’s arms and legs show carved muscle due to a lifetime of training, King Dolian’s frame is more slender. I know he can wield a sword—I saw as much the night I escaped from the tower—but his profile bears no evidence of being a warrior. “I can command you to show me, and you know that I will,” he says smoothly, sliding a single hand into the pocket of his navy trousers. “But I’d like for you to choose to do as I ask.”
I can’t help the shocked noise that leaves me as I look down and realize I’m wearing nothing but a satin white chemise. I pull the blanket up higher to cover my body. “You do realize the irony in that, don’t you? I havenochoice here. There hasneverbeen a choice when it comes to you.”
“I agree with the fact that you had lessoptionsin your tower, which is why I aim to rectify that now. You can wander this residence at your leisure. Did you know there is a library? A solarium filled with the most vibrant and decadent plants you can imagine? While the staff is only what is necessary, there are still enough servants to tend to your every want and desire.” His blade-like grin grows into a full smile. “And the ones they can’t tend to,Ican. You have a multitude of choices now, Rhea.”
“Stuffing me into a cage and then asking me to choose between the breadcrumbs you toss into it isn’t autonomy. It’s merely the illusion of it. You may enjoy pretending that you’re offering me something better than my life in that tower, but Iknowwho you truly are,Your Majesty, and because of my time with—” I stumble over my words, Nox’s name still trapped behind the magic command he gave me on the first day. “Because I experienced true freedom, I now have the clarity to see through your lies, to see through your attempted manipulation. You think me to be weak and pliable, but I willneverstop fighting you. I willneverbend to your will. I would rather die attempting to escape you a hundred times over thaneverdo a single thing you bid.”
Charged silence settles between us, pulsing like the angry burn from my hip, as the king’s artificial smile slowly fades until his own contempt and rage seeps out in his expression. “You wanted to speakhisname right then, didn’t you?” he snarls. I say nothing in response, my bravery teetering beneath his malicious stare. “Lay down.”
The feeling of being dragged beneath water washes over me, my ears ringing with the heavy thumping of my heart as I recline back against my will until my head meets the pillow again.No. King Dolian’s steps are measured as he prowls closer.
“You make me do this, my darling,” he says softly, the hand that was in his pocket comes out to yank the blanket from my grasp. “I want us to be able to move on withsomelevel of understanding. But I fear that may never happen as long as you keep holding on tohim. As long as you believe the princeto be a possibility, you will never even give us a chance.”
“You’re myuncle! What you want with me is not something that caneverbe! You—”
“I am your future!” he interrupts with a harrowing bellow, my eyes snapping shut as he leans over me. The weight of his hip brushes against mine, and I cry out at the pressure he places on the tender flesh of the brand. “Look atme.”
At the rush of power that barrels into me, my eyes are forced open. That precarious bravery within me falters. I know I’m a different woman than the one who cowered beneath his touch before. That I’mstronger. But what does it matter if he can so easily strip me of that strength? Reaching over my body, he plants his hand next to my head while the one gripping the comforter pulls it completely off. My fingers curl around the hemline of the chemise, holding it down at my thighs as Iattempt to keep as much of myself covered as I can. But his gaze leaves an oily trail as it roams over me, making me feel even more exposed.
Terror slices through me when he reaches out to drag his fingers up the outside of my thigh, unbidden tears springing to my eyes. “Stop,” I breathe through quivering lips to no avail. His movements slow when he reaches the chemise, and he toys with the ribbon lining the hem as he inhales deeply through his nose.
“Do you tremble because of my touch? Because of what I might see or do?” he asks without looking at me, a disturbing amount of awe woven into his voice. “I tremble for the same. Let go of the nightgown, Rhea.”
My body obeys, my eyes flicking to the ceiling as he lifts the fabric higher. I try to sink back into that numb place—the one that was so easily tucked into the dark corners of my mind. But it had been so long since I had any need to, and I am petrified to discover I can’t quite reach it anymore.
The pad of his finger presses lightly on the brand, drawing a shaky cry from me. I suppose I never thought that facing this monster again would be harder the second time around. That the armor I thought I had expertly crafted in my time away from him so that I would never again be vulnerable had somehow only made me weaker. Because it is at this moment, as my uncle’s unwanted touch invades my body, that I realize I haven’t exactly dealt with everything that plagued me before. I have simply replaced pain with pleasure, anger with love. I have built armor, yes, but it is thewrongkind, and now water is seeping in at all the misaligned spots. Threatening to pull me under. Try as I might to pretend otherwise, I feel every brush of his skin against mine as it irritates the flesh of my wound. Every waft of his warm breath against my cheek as he leans in closer.
“Did he touch you like this? Reverently and with purpose? Did you let him?” My eyes begin to sting from how wide I holdthem open, tears falling onto my cheeks. Time passes slowly, like watching individual grains of sand tumble down an hourglass. King Dolian murmurs something as he drags the edges of my chemise back down, his hand pausing on my thigh before he stands from the bed. My eyes don’t move from their focus on the ceiling, not even when the king leaves and I’m alone with nothing but my fear, anger, guilt, and shame.
Chapter Eleven: Rhea
Thesoundofthewaves breaking against the shoreline ahead spikes fear within me as I stand at my window, looking down at the slight drop to the fine sand below. Whatever this magic is that binds me to the king’s will, it makes me feel like I’m drowning. Like my head is pushed beneath the surface the moment a command leaves his lips. I suck in a harsh breath at the thought, gasping for air even though I’m out in the open. My skin stretches and pulls at the brand with the movement, and just as quickly, that breath is pushed out of me at the fiery painthat erupts at my hip, forcing my hands to brace the windowsill as I lean into the cooler breeze blowing in from the water.
King Dolian hadn’t come back to visit me the rest of the day. Instead, he sent the assigned handmaiden. I was still in bed when she came with lunch on a silver tray, her blue eyes rounding when they had met mine. After setting the tray down on one of the tables by the bed, she pulled a linen pouch from her white apron and told me the king said she was to clean an abrasion. Panic curdled my stomach at the thought of another’s touch on me again, and I tried to tell her that her assistance wasn’t necessary. But the handmaiden gave me a small smile and relayed that the king had commanded it of her, and I understood what she couldn’t say then. She had a blood oath with the king and, much like myself, had little choice in what he demanded she do.
“It is on your hip, correct?” At my reluctant nod, she moved to the side of the bed and slowly lifted my chemise up, the blanket still discarded on the floor where the king had thrown it earlier. Her shocked inhale echoed out in the room, and the curse she let slip after had our eyes meeting in unspoken horror. Clearly this wasn’t just an abrasion, and if any part of me thought that perhaps my reaction to the pain—to theideathat I was marked with a branding iron—was overly dramatic, the color that leached from the handmaiden’s face when she looked back down at my hip confirmed that it wasn’t. She worked in silence, her touch gentle but diligent. The ointment she slathered over the aching flesh soothed it a little before she covered it with a bandage. When she was done, she grabbed the blanket and laid over my legs, making sure I could reach it should I want it pulled up again. Then she hurried out of the room like she might be sick. I stared out the window across from me until day bled to night, and she returned again, this time with a dinner tray.
Now I look back out to the starry night sky, my dinner still sitting where the handmaiden left it. Every shift of the small residence and noise outside the hall sends my pulse racing, my eyes darting over my shoulder to watch the door should King Dolian enter my room again. He hadn’t touched me beyond where the brand was and my thigh, but he had seen my undergarments. Seen more of me than he ever should have been allowed. Would he stop next time? Or would he let his fingers explore other parts of me, let them undress me just as eagerly as his gaze did. I swallow at the thought and reach out to grip either side of the window, its height low enough that I can, with a little maneuvering, step onto the ledge in front of it.
I cry out as I’m forced into a crouch, my heartbeat pulsing over my tender flesh, every nerve ending singing its displeasure at my position. I blink through the tears that form in my eyes, gritting my teeth as I clench my jaw and focus on the ground below. I had been in too much pain to care about changing out my chemise, instead grabbing a velvet cloak from the wooden armoire in the room and securing it around my neck.
The king’s command said I couldn’t leave the residence without him being at my side, but surely the magic of it couldn’t know what I was doing at every minute. My own power works off of intention; is it the same for this ring? Can I trick it if I tell myself I’m just going for a stroll? Hissing through my teeth, I lean forward and prepare to jump, only to be met with resistance. That invisible barrier of magic preventing me from going farther. “No,” I growl, abandoning my hold on the window to push with both hands. But the unseen obstacle holds firm.
I adjust my stance, a groan of pain rumbling up my throat as I move onto the balls of my feet, only to lose my balance. My back crashes into the floor behind me, the reverberation of the impact sending a blinding wave of pain through me. My hands shake as they hover over my hip, but there is nothing I can do.I can’t call up my magic. I can’t soothe it. I can only endure, calling out to Selene as I do. “Please, help me,” I say between broken sobs, my vision blurring and throat growing raw. When she doesn’t answer, I call out to Nox. To Bella. To Alexi. But the night continues without so much as a whisper of their presence, only the unfathomable pain of a mark I’ll never be able to get rid of keeping me company.
The handmaiden comes the next morning and helps me shower. The water hitting my singed skin is no relief, and though I try to keep myself composed in front of her, I completely fall apart at the white-hot stinging that lances through me. Afterwards, she dresses me in a gown of soft satin, though I still smart when it grazes my hip, fighting back nausea that travels its way up my throat. She does my hair, braiding it away from my face and down my back, and the moment she ties it off, someone knocks on the door.
I tense at the sound, my eyes clashing with hers in the reflection of the vanity mirror in front of me. I stand as she strides to the door, my heart sinking when she opens it and reveals who is on the other side.Xander.
“The king has called for you to meet with him this morning.” The sound of his voice draws up memories of Alexi’s death, of his harsh tone whenever he spoke to me in the tower. I swallow as I take a step, and my knees falter as my head begins to swim.Perhaps I should have eaten something yesterday.
“Lady Rhea, are you alright?” the handmaiden asks, taking a step towards me. Concern lines her face, but I shake it off as I force my chin to lift, blinking away the haziness from my vision.
“I’m fine.” Xander’s attention stays fixed on me as he steps to the side to let me pass, those dark eyes of his briefly meeting mine. He’s not dressed in full armor, instead wearing the same chest and back piece over a black tunic and pants that Alexi and Nox wore. His black hair is tied back, a few shorter strandsescaping and framing his face. At his hip is a golden sword, a small dagger also strapped to his thigh. He’s larger up close than I remember, though I suppose the interactions I’ve had with him have been ones that I’d like to forget.
Xander walks behind me as we move down the corridor, my memories once more faulty as I can’t recall exactly how long it has been since I tried to escape. Was it two days ago? Three? How much time had I lost between when I was knocked unconscious at the front door and again after I was branded? When we reach the split in the hallway, I pause.
