Once Marra’s done with me, she collapses next to me on the mattress. I comb her hair from her face with my fingers before pulling her to my chest. She snuggles close, nuzzling my breasts and resting a hand on my waist.
“Are you happy here, Marra?”
She tilts her chin to gaze up at me. “In the palace?”
“In my bed.”
Marra grins and licks my nipple, sucking it into her mouth for a few moments before releasing it to answer me. “Yes, mistress. I adore it here in your bed with you.”
I paste a smile on my face and continue to stroke her hair. Marra’s a sweet girl, I tell myself, eager to please me and more than willing, it seems, to explore with me. No matter how much I try to convince myself that she makes me equally happy, though, I find the experience lacking … something. What I can’t yet say. I only know that while my loins throb when she’s near, my heartbeat remains steady.
Shouldn’t love make my heart soar? That’s what all the old poems say.
Perhaps it’s not love, at least not yet. Still, she’s ready and able, and for now that’ll do. Besides, I have a wedding to get ready for, one that I have yet to find a way out of.
The next solar eclipse is happening all too soon, marking my days with Marra as limited at best. Why my mind turns to love of all things when I am not allowed such luxuries is beyond me. What does it matter if I love Marra or not? I’ll be marrying Corvin regardless of my desires, my wants …
… My love.
Chapter 3
Cara
I slip out of my bed before the dawn lightens the sky, taking care not to wake Marra, who dozed off in my arms. I make it to the bathhouse without incident, drawing my own bath because of the early hour. Most of the maidservants have been called into questioning after yesterday’s incident, and the few who were acquitted of any suspicion are likely barely awake themselves.
As I wash the last traces of Marra off my skin, I contemplate my next move. The Elders have been getting antsy lately, turning into nervous old biddies at every little assassination attempt. It’s like they can’t wait for me to be wed to Corvin, so a so-called strong male can take over should I be murdered. It’s tiresome, but it is what it is. I can’t very well undo generations of misogyny on my own, and I certainly can’t erase it in less than two months.
By the time I climb out of the tub, a few maids have arrived to start their day. Two pairs of hands descend to wrap me in soft, fluffy towels and dry me. I’m perfectly capable of drying myself after a bath, but I allow them to dote on me. I’ve long since learned that it adds more insult to deny them than any level of servitude might, though why is beyond me. If I had it my way, the servants would be free to carry on with more important things than tending to matters of hygiene that I can perform on my own. Some, it seems, prefer to cater to others, so I tolerate it for their sake.
An elderly maid once told me that her highest aspiration in her long, long life was to serve a Suntouched Soul. She’d grown up with stories of my kind, of the supposed light we emit to those around us, and she longed to be bathed in that light.
I don’t know about any light coming from me, save from the Call of the Sun that I use to burn my enemies, but I saw in that woman’s eyes a kind of reverence, as if I was Solari Himself reborn. That kind of hero worship should have cemented my awareness of my importance over others, or so the Elders say, but it only served to humble me. This woman made it her life’s goal to serve someone like me, and I couldn’t bear to crush those dreams just because I was stubborn.
After I dress myself—with a little unnecessary help—I make my way to the dining hall for breakfast. The heavenly aroma of fresh eggs, bacon, and sausages draws me towards it, quickening my steps. My hunger gets the best of me, and I nearly forget to bow my head to the Elders seated in the hall when I arrive. Protocol wins out, though, drilled into me by Kiki and countless others, and I hastily nod at the raised table at the far end of the dining hall before taking my own seat for some food.
The meal starts off silent, which should have been my first clue that something is up.
I make it through my eggs, bacon, and three sausages before Kryos clears his throat and begins.
“Cara, dear, it has come to our attention that the panthers are up to no good.”
Well, that’s stating the obvious. “Yes, I reckon they are.” I put down my loaded fork and sit straight. “As usual.”
Tirin shakes his head. “Not just the usual. There’s a large contingent that has been harassing our people on the forest roads as of late. Just last night, after the attempt on your life, a small family was found slain on the main road leading out of the next town over.”
My eyes narrow, and I lean forward on my elbows. “And how do we know it’s panthers? Wolves are just as capable of treachery, and I’m sure we are as likely to have wolf brigands as panthers.”
“The claw marks on their bodies indicate a feline presence. If not panthers, then who?”
He’s got me there. The panther shifters are the only cats in the area large enough to kill off a whole wolf family. “Did they leave their calling card?”
Kryos clearly prepared himself for that question. He reaches under the table and picks up a box that had been seated at his feet. Prying open the lid, he tilts the box up so I can see the contents.
Inside are four bloody wolf tails.
“Fuck!” My hands clench into fists at the sight, and dark fur ripples on my skin as I fight the urge to shift at the dining table. Rage bubbles inside me, and the water in my glass starts to boil.
“Cara! Mind your powers in the dining hall!” Lana chides me as though I’m still a young pup. “It’s a gruesome sight, to be sure, but you must control your temper in a civilized setting. Save it for the brigands.”
