Rholker’s heart twists and convulses, a living, breathing fire of anger and betrayal.
Marej doesn't even touch her cheek. She casts him a sly smile, her deep yellow eyes glinting in the soft light of my room.
"Oh, My Prince, you truly are a pathetic excuse for a giant. I can see why they’ve had such a hard time finding you a wife."
"Go to hell, Marej," he seethes, his heart pounding with rage. He clenches his fists so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
“Take the whore to the king,” Keksej shouts.
The guards drag a quiet, tear-streaked Estela out of the room, and Rholker is left with Marej and the rest of the royal entourage.
Marej continues smirking as she watches Estela being led away. Marej’s peals of laughter play repeatedly in Rholker’s skull, cutting deep, as if she's etching each ugly bark into his flesh.
Keksej steps forward, his face a mixture of disappointment and concern. "Calm down, brother. This is not the time or place for such a display."
"No need to protect me, Keksej," Marej coos, walking around the heir to the throne and tracing the back of hisshoulders with her scarred fingers. "He's a beast without its claws."
Everything mounts on Rholker’s shoulders: rejection, ridicule, shame. The next time that Marej opens her mouth to spew her poison, he lunges.
Every awful emotion swirling in his soul is channeled into his powerful blow.
When his fist collides with her face, it sends her crashing to the ground. The sound of bone cracking comes seconds before blood leaks crimson across the luxurious, hand-woven carpet.
The sight of the dented skull on the floor serves as a twisted kind of solace—proof that Rholker is not the pitiful, weak thing she despises. Time passes slowly as he waits for her chest to rise with another labored breath or for her eyes to flicker open. Nothing. He straightens and shakes away the pain in his knuckles. First Prince Keksej stares at his brother with a tight expression.
"Feel better?" Keksej sneers. He points to one of the slaves, and they hurry over to start cleaning the mess leaking all over the polished wood.
Rholker nods. "Much."
"And what are we supposed to do now? She was to be your bride," Keksej asks, more annoyed than angry.
Seconds pass, but Rholker’s feeling of freedom doesn’t fizzle into shame. He shrugs. "I believe she has a younger sister. She'll be even better for breeding." Not that he wanted to bed and impregnate the bitch.
Keksej purses his lips and stares long and hard. "That is true. But you'll need a new engagement gift since Marej has been wearing the last one around for the last week. Hell, she's even flaunted it in the lumber yards in front of the foremen. It will reflect poorly on Father’s wealth if you reuse it."
Rholker’s eye catches on the glinting diamond at the deadwoman's throat, and he nods. "Yes. I suppose it's time I finally go to the Enduar Mountains."
Keksej shakes his head. "No. You're shit at negotiations. I'm sure that Father will send me."
The Second Prince takes a deep breath, and then another, as if taking in new air can cleanse the blood on his hands. It works.
His older brother grasps his shoulder and guides him out of the room.
"Come, your new bride is at the party. I suggest lying with her before she discovers what has happened to her sister. It will make the marriage contract simpler," he says calmly, the heat of the wine in his system evidently cooling. Or perhaps not. Keksej is a convincingly sober drunk.
"What is her name?" Rholker asks, despite seeing Estela’s face in his mind.
Keksej shrugs. "Who cares? When Lord Fektir asks, tell him that you found Marej rutting a slave. She was a slut. No one will question you."
It is a good plan, but unease still curls in his stomach. Keksej can play savior all he wants, but no one will deal with Estela but Rholker. He just needs time. He just needs to see her. He just…
Part One
Chapter 1
Youngite
TEO
