A quick knock on the door has Siphonie jumping in surprise. A woman enters with her head down — her hair is in a chaotic braid — she doesn’t look at me. A man, tall enough to fill the doorframe, enters behind her, clearly a soldier by his armor with the sun and serpent insignia embossed in the silver metal.
“Good morning, Princess Carnaxa,” the woman says as she walks softly towards me, her eyes never meeting mine. She looks as if she hasn’t had a meal in days. The long sleeves of her threadbare dress fall past her fingertips and the rest hangs off her frame. “KingAtlas wants you in the throne room and I have come to help you prepare to meet him.”
“And who is he?” Siphonie rises, her voice full of the regality that comes with being royalty of Antalis. She nods towards the man still standing, licking his lips as he takes her in from head to toe.
“SacheAtaiun, and I am here to make sure she does as she is told.” He smirks at the woman before me. “And to make sure the Princess does as well.” I don’t like the arrogance in the man’s tone or the way his eyes never falter from my own.
“We will be there shortly,” I say, keeping my voice firm. “You may go.”
He chuckles under his breath. “Oh ... I can’t do that. I’m under the King’s orders to escort you to him.”
“Did the King also request you to stay and watch the future queen of these lands dress?” I move my hands down my body indicating I’m still only dressed in a robe.
“Not yet. For now, I’ll be outside your room.” He turns towards the door before glancing over his shoulder and motioning to the woman who has still yet to look me in the eyes. “She’ll stay here with you, future Queen-consort, and she’ll pay the punishment if you don’t hurry.”
With the slamming of the door, I watch as the servant takes a deep breath. Queen-consort? That’s not what the agreement was ... was it?
“That was … different,” Siphonie says, taking a step toward me. “I’ve never heard you speak in that tone.”
“Will I be queen or queen-consort?” I pay no attention to her statement, focusing only on what is expected of me when I enter the throne room.
“Queen-consort. We found out shortly before we left for Antalis. It was a part of the new agreement made between your father and Ereon. Thylas agreed to become Ambassador to help keep some power in Antalis’ figurative hands.” She walks to the wardrobe, running her hand along the dark-colored fabrics there.
Thylas is the savior who helps the Antalians, meanwhile you will just play the part of a pretty wife.
I shake my head and take a deep breath. I’ll think about all of this later, right now I must get ready to see a king.
seven
Anara
My fingers lazily dance over the scars along Ereon’s ribs as I listen to his heartbeat against mine. I should be hurt more — he loves another — but I’m not. I knew this day would come. I knew one day the truth would come into the light. This body may be young, but my soul is old. I’ve seen what secrets can do.
I gaze over at the young captain still sleeping on the chaise. I could tell by his reaction to the Princess awakening — he has secrets of his own. He has feelings for her, but it’s morethan just infatuation. His emerald eyes that gazed into mine last night were ridden with dark shadows.
I feel Ereon run his nose over the top of my head, breathing me in. His lips touch my hairline and his corded arm pulls me closer to him. I knew when he saw me, he would see the brokenness of my body. I wince at the thought of his father’s touch, the sting of the whip, the slap of his hands. But I didn’t want Ereon to remember me in such a way. I wanted him to remember me as I was, how it felt to be inside me or wrapped in my arms.
“I missed this,” he mumbles into my hair. “I missed you.”
His fingers dance up my thighs, inching closer towards my core before I reach down to stop him.
“We have a guest.” I rise up and nod towards the chaise.
“It could be his turn to watch.” He takes my forearm in his strong grip, pulling me to him. Before I can ask what he means by his statement, he crushes his lips over mine. The roughness of his beard caresses my bruised face. Breaking the kiss, Ereon mutters against my lips, “You’re right. We should probably wake him so he can return to his own quarters.”
He grabs a pillow from behind his head before launching it towards the sleeping man. Thylas jumps from where he lies. His tousled hair is half in and half out of a leather tie, his eyes wide and alert before focusing on me. While shadows may still hide behind his gaze, I can see a piece of him is pure. He means it when he says he’ll protect the once-sleeping princess.
“What thekosæ, Ereon?” he grumbles, running his fingers through his hair before they snag on the leather tie. He untanglesit from his hair, letting his shoulder-length black locks flow down. “Could you have at least gotten out of the bed and put on clothes before waking me?”
I look down quickly at the sheets, Ereon’s leg sticks out from the side. His morning hardness causes the silk sheet to tent over him. “My kingdom has a lot of faults, but I refuse to sleep the first night back in my bed in discomfort just because you are here.” Ereon’s thumb traces back and forth across my shoulder and goose bumps pebble the flesh there.
Thylas reaches down and grabs his armor and places it over his gray tunic before grabbing his broadsword, still in its sheath. He stands up and stretches, his hands reaching towards the ceiling.
A quick knock on the door before it opens has me jumping, and Ereon sits straight up, reaching for his swords — which are always on the table beside his bed. Thylas turns as a man I’ve seen just as often as the King appears. Ataiun, King Atlas’ personal guard and errand boy, stands in the doorway taking up most of the space there. His cold blue eyes sweep the room as he takes in his surroundings. His light brown hair, tinged with blonde, hangs to his shoulders, similar to Ereon’s. He could almost be attractive if I didn’t know the type of man he is.
Ataiun was a revered soldier in thePrelbefore tales of his cruelty made their way to the palace. He would not only defeat the monsters of the north, but he would taunt them and keep them alive for days by dissecting them to see how much they could take. This caught Atlas’ attention, and so Ataiun became his personal guard. Inside the palace, however, Ataiun is known as the King’sdog. He’s loyal to him, does what he’s told, and takes the King’s scraps — in whatever capacity he can get them.
While I was with the King, Ataiun would join in. Atlas still had his rules — Ataiun wasn’t allowed to have his cock inside me — but most things were negotiable. He enjoyed hanging me by the chains on my wrist while he carved into my skin.
