“So, a party?”
“Pretty much.” She laughs.
“Dancing and debauchery,” Domanikk adds with a wink, coming up behind me, snaking his arm around my waist, hand splayed across my stomach. “Hey Viv, can you keep Alaya entertained while we’re at the meeting?”
“My pleasure,” she purrs, winking at me. Heat floods my cheeks.
When we reach the centre green, Domanikk and Rawson join the already-gathered Equitae near Reth’s tent, while Viveen, Samwell, and I linger on the outskirts. They chat amongst themselves, mainly about other Equitae I don’t know.
I’m distracted, shooting looks towards the meeting. It appears heated—tense stances, raised voices, and a general air of dissatisfaction.
The sky transforms into cooling gradients, and shadows creep into the surrounding forest as day turns to early evening by the time the meeting breaks up. Equitae arrive from deeper within Heartwood, and the fire is lit as Domanikk rejoins us.
“Did you miss me, darling?” he whispers, leaning down to brush a light kiss to my cheek. I pull away and his deep growl vibrates against my ear.
When I don’t reply, his lips tighten, and he grips me by my elbow to lead me to where a large group is gathering. A big pot hangs over the roaring fire, releasing a delicious smell of meat and vegetables. Loaves of bread, cheeses, various fruits and vegetables, and other delights spread across a long wooden table to the left, with chairs arranged around it and a larger wooden chair at the centre of one of the longer sides.
His arrival shifts the air—there’s a palpable awareness, a sudden change in atmosphere. The low hum of activity and chatter quietens, a tense wave of anticipation ripples across the crowd.
Reth walks to the larger chair, oozing with confidence, Ceira taking the seat to his left. Those gathered sit down and another Equitae starts ladling stew from the pot above the fire, handing bowls out to be distributed. It’s a relaxed, informal meal shared amongst the group.
Domanikk starts to lead me towards the table when Reth gestures for quiet.
“Wait. I wish to speak with the captive.”
Domanikk’s eyes snap to Reth, his jaw tightening. A muscle jumps in his cheek. Reth simply nods his head towards the empty chair to his right. My chest constricts. The air stops halfway down my throat. Cold sweeps through me as Domanikk let’s me go, leaving me to stand alone. Reth’s eyes lock onto mine—unwavering, narrowed to slits beneath his furrowed brow—his jaw set and unsmiling. All eyes on me feel like prickles poking my skin.
Domanikk takes his seat beside Reth, his gaze fixed on me, narrowed and hard.
“We received word today from your King. It seems he’s not overly concerned with your wellbeing, sending back his own terms for negotiation.”
I feel a stab of hurt swirl with growing temper as his stare searches my face for a reaction. I’m made to stand here alone, in the spotlight of their attention, while I’m told there’s no immediate rescue coming—no doubt a cruel, calculated plan designed to break me. My resolve surges, the pleasant afternoon forgotten.
I stare back at him with defiance. His mouth twitches with irritation, and he shifts, lounging back into his chair. A wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Since you’ll be with us for a while, you’ll make yourself useful. Encourage me not to simply slit your throat.”
I swallow my rising fear, keeping the emotion from my face.
“Each night at the Gathering, you’ll provide me with useful information about your Court and your King—even about that arsehole of a husband of yours, if you like. You give me information I can use against them, and you live another day. Defy me, and you’ll be punished.”
What information could I possibly provide? I’m a nobody, little more than a commodity—a means to an end for the King.
My anger rises now, a roaring wave of churning emotions that threatens to consume everything in its path. It builds from deep within, layer upon layer of suppressed rage finally breaking free. I won’t be used again, craftily moulded into his image with no concern for me, twisted and shaped to fit his expectations while my own needs are dismissed as irrelevant. My sense of self stripped away, piece by piece, until I barely recognise the hollow shell staring back at me in the mirror.
King Malaxor took everything that made me who I was and replaced it with his own vision. I won’t—can’t—let that happen again. The only one who bothered to look beyond the liespainted on my skin, who saw the truth beneath the facade his father forced upon me, is now my fuel for strength. His quiet acceptance of who I really am burns bright within me like an unquenchable flame.
This is for you, Kiernan.
“No!”
“No?”
“No, sir,” and I flash him the sweetest smile I can muster.
A tiny flicker of intrigue crosses his face before his ice-blue eyes glow bright, his lips thin and tight.
“Punishment it is,” he replies, his self-satisfied smile rising.
