“When has that ever stopped me?” He forces my hand down so I can feel the hardened flesh through his pants.
“My lord.” I try to lean away, glancing at the maid still scrubbing the stain on the ground.Maybe he had more scotch than I previously thought.
His grip on my hand tightens as his hot breath fans over my neck. “You are mywife.” He bites my exposed collarbone—hard—and I stifle a yelp as he unbuttons his pants.
It’s the only explanation given, the only reminder I need. I silently turn around and slide the fabric of my dress up my legs beforeshimmying my stockings down my thighs. I bend myself over the entryway table, and the cool stone feels blessedly refreshing against my flushed cheek.
I hear the zipper of his pants and the rustling of clothing before the head of his penis presses against my entrance. “Spread your legs.”
The rigid material of my tights is already stretched taut between my thighs, but I do as I’m told, until the bunched fabric digs painfully into my soft flesh. Normally, this is where he would lather himself in lubricant, but his impatience wins out this time. He spits in his palm, coating himself and then my entrance with the sticky saliva, before he pushes into me with a grunt.
The sound of slapping skin mixes with theswish-swish-swishof the maid’s toothbrush, while I think of what to wear to the party tonight.
???
I can feel his seed leaking out of me. The silky residue of his pleasure slides between my thighs, the fresh pair of underwear I changed into already soiled. I catch his eye from across the room and offer a small smile, which goes unreturned. I should know better. In the presence of other men—otherpowerfulmen, especially—I might as well not exist.
Here in the Northwest region of New Athens, Gabriel is among the top lords of the Brotherhood, and I couldn’t be prouder to stand at his side. Tonight is a celebration, a commemoration of hisachievements as he’s solidified trade agreements with several countries that were previously unwilling to tie themselves to the Brotherhood. Technically, I’m not supposed to know anything about it, or what Gabriel does for work in general, but maids talk, and I’ve never been able to kick the eavesdropping habit I picked up as a child.
Armed guards—the lesser, unmarried brothers—are stationed around the room in their typical black uniforms. Masks cover all but their eyes as they scan the room for threats—not that there are any. One notices me staring and I immediately drop my eyes. They may not be lords, but they’re still men.
“Sister, are you even listening to me?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry, what?”
Sister Thomas—my good friend and the wife of Lord Thomas—sighs wistfully, cradling her heavily pregnant belly. “I said,” she drops her voice. “Any luck on the baby front?”
My mood is immediately soured. Gabriel and I have been trying for a baby since the day we were married. We’ve seen every doctor and fertility specialist within a two-hundred-mile radius, and none of them have been able to find any scientific reason as to why we can’t conceive. I turn to Sister Thomas and paste a smile on my face.“We’re still trying.”
It’s a rehearsed answer, one she’s heard countless times now, and the disappointment on her face is a fraction of my own. She grasps my hand and squeezes tightly. “Someday.”
I nod and smile, even though the heartbreak I feel is suffocating. Like any woman, I desperately want to give my husband children, and every time my period arrives—even irregular as it is—I feel a crushing sense of failure. Most women in my immediate proximity have at least one child, leaving me—and Gabriel—in the minority among my friends and his peers.
Before my thoughts can spiral into a darker place, a male voice rings out in the crowded room, immediately drawing everyone’s attention as side conversations abate. “Gentlemen!” The voice belongs to High Lord Gentry, the Northwest’s top-ranking member. “On behalf of Lord Gabriel, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight to celebrate this momentous occasion.”
The side of the room with all the men erupts into whoops and cheers as several of the lords clap Gabriel on the back, and the smile on my husband’s face fills me with pride. He’s worked tirelessly over the past several months to ensure the success of these agreements, and I’m thrilled he’s being recognized for it.
High Lord Gentry holds his hands up to silence the cacophony before continuing with his speech. “Gabriel has proven himself to be an indispensable member of the Brotherhood here in the Northwest, and we couldn’t be more excited to see what his future holds.” The middle-aged man raises his glass in the air, and the other men follow suit. “To Gabriel!”
“To Gabriel!” they echo.
And then, in unison, they recite one of their sacred tenets. “Brotherhood above all.”
Conversations pick up again as many people continue to congratulate Gabriel and offer him their thanks, while the women take that as our cue to retire to the secondary drawing room so the men can continue their celebration. Sister Thomas loops her arm through mine as we make our way across the house, and while I’m grateful for her company, I would rather be alone in my room than endure the trivial gossip that always accompanies these types of events.
I take a seat on the uncomfortable yet undoubtedly expensive couch near the window, thanking the maid as she hands me a teacup and saucer. I sip the steaming chamomile, hoping to enjoy a moment of peace, but it doesn’t take long for the other wives to flock to me, offering their own congratulations. While I have no claim to Gabriel’s success, we all know how important this is for the Northwest as a whole. I smile and nod my thanks before I noticeherapproaching me. I grit my teeth in an effort to keep the smile on my face, but it’s futile. She always seems to bring out the worst in me.
Sister Robert sits across from me in a wingback chair, crossing her legs as her keen eyes search for a way to get under my skin. “Gabriel’s achievement is notable. You must feel very proud.”
I lift my chin and offer a tight-lipped smile. “Of course I am.”
She examines her manicured fingernails with an air of indifference. “I’m surprised he pulled it off, honestly, what with the Rebels threatening the peace.”
Another wife hisses a warning at her friend. “Sister, don’t.”
I fail to hide my confusion, which makes the vile woman smirk. “The Resistance is nothing more than a disgusting rumor, created to instill fear among the loyal members of the Brotherhood.” It’s easy to parrot what Gabriel told me about the so-called rebels, since I don’t know anything else.
Sister Robert throws her head back and laughs, and it sounds like the laugh of an evil queen from the princess movies I remember from my childhood. “You’re even more naive than I thought.”
