When his eyes returned to me, a faint smirk ghosted across his mouth. As though he alone understood the game he had just begun.
Placing me under his protection meant two things. One, I was untouchable and two, I belonged solely to him. From the way I watched him toy with that infernal lip ring and the glint in his eyes, I suspected he relished in the thought of breaking me himself. A challenge presented to a King who had never learned to refuse one.
“My King? What need do you have for a human? Surely there is no place for her in this court?” A bright, chiming voice called from somewhere behind me.
“She is to be my companion.” Rhael said after a brief silence. His eyes gleamed, not with anger but with a sense of mischief.
The courtyard erupted. Gasps, hissed protests, silk rustled amongst the crown like a nest of disturbed serpents. All whilst I stood there dumbfounded and frozen to the spot. Eyes narrowed and locked on the King, who seemed unbothered by chaos, and focused solely on enjoying every moment of my discomfort.
From auction block to companion of the Fae King, in the span of a single dawn.
“Escort her to her chambers. She is not to be touched. Not by word, spell or blade,” he thundered with authority, ignoring the outrage of his people.
The nobles bristled visibly, their fury barely contained as guards moved to flank me on all sides. They did not need to lay hands on me, their presence was command enough.
I glanced once back toward the gates, as they shut forever behind me. Sealing me within black stone with cold intentions. I craved to be outside of them; to be free, but I would not get that luxury, not unless I managed to convince the Fae King that I was not worth the bother he would get by keeping me around.
Rhael stepped aside as I passed him, already knowing I would not attempt to escape. I was reckless, defiant, foolhardy, but I was not stupid. As I drew level with him, our eyes met once more. His expression remained the same as it had been in the market.
Cold. Calculating. As if I were not a girl at all, but a puzzle he intended to unravel, a toy waiting to be broken under his powerful hands.
Chapter Three
I had known cages all my life.
Iron bars slick with rust. Splintered wood that left needles in my skin. I had once been set in a circle of spell work that was etched into stone floors, the magic had pressed so hard against my skin that it felt like my breath had been stolen.
Yet, none of that had ever felt as suffocating as the Eastern Wing of the Obsidian Court.
The guards escorted me through corridors that seemed to stretch on without end, black stone walls polished to a mirror sheen that even extended to the floor beneath my feet; giving the illusion that we were walking along an inky black river. The Faelight casting an eerie blue glow that turned every shadow into a soul that stood on the other side of living, lingering, watching. It put me on edge.
Doors lined the passage we walked through into the east wing. Heavy slabs of dark wood carved with runes that pulsed as we passed. Most of them would have been wards, designed to keep something out or something worse in.
The guards never uttered a sound, walking beside me in complete silence. They would not even meet my gaze. Instead, they watched me only from their peripheral, as if I was a wolf they needed to be wary of, half starved and barely restrained.
Eventually we halted before a pair of towering double doors, etched with curling silver vines. One of the guards rapped his knuckles once against the wood, only to be met with silence. Until the doors slowly crept open, seemingly of their own accord.
A female elf stood there waiting, arms crossed over her chest, looking at us as though she wanted to be anywhere else but here.
She was petite and willowy, all quiet angles and soft light. Pale skin unblemished by hardship. Hair the colour of early spring wheat was braided with delicate precision and draped over her shoulder. Her moss green eyes watched us with an intelligence, hidden behind eyelashes so long they almost seemed painted.
Her gown was made of a simple grey linen, yet the cut was elegant as if it had been made just for her. Belted neatly at the waist, sleeves tapering out to narrow wrists. She possessed an ethereal beauty that I had only ever seen with elves.
Her nose wrinkled almost imperceptibly as she took me in. A mud caked hem, split lip and iron cuffs biting into my skin. Her gaze travelled the length of me, as though she was trying to see what lay beneath all of the grime.
“Is this her?” She asked softly. Her voice was airy, although judgement threaded through it like a wire.
“Yes, by order of the King. She is to be his companion,” the larger guard replied.
“I see... Well, bring her in, I see I have a lot of work to do,” she said, stepping aside with fluid grace.
The room beyond the door was bright. Too bright. Lanterns hung along the walls, flooding the chamber with a pale, relentless glow.
A bathing pool was sunken into the stone floor, steam rising in slow spirals towards the. Beside it stood a long table, cluttered with a barrage of unfamiliar oils, salves and combs.
I had barely stepped foot in the room when I heard her sharp intake of breath. Her eyes fixated on the burn covering the skin of my neck.
The burn scar twisted down from beneath my jaw, and slithered along my collarbone in jagged ridges, the edges shaped like pieces of shattered glass. It was ugly and for anyone not used to it, incredibly hard to ignore. The elf did not mask her reaction. Horror flickering to the forefront first, quickly followed by disgust and then something dangerously close to pity.
