Page 28 of The Endless Dance

“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty. The guests will be arriving shortly.”

My curtains are thrown open, and I squeeze my eyes shut against them.

“Fuck off!”

I don’t mean to be so feral and rude to my handmaids, but it seemed my bad mood had carried through to the morning. Not to mention my sweat-soaked body sticking, like a banana to its peel, to the sheets covering me, and yet my body shook. Did I have a fever?

A snide giggle alerts me to Laska’s presence. “Oh, boy. I knew this hangover was going to suck. Where are your clothes?”

Nope. I was not going there.

To evade the question, I throw off my doona completely and push myself up. I swipe in frustration at the sopping lock of hair that is plastered to my forehead. I glare at Laska as she looks around, completely baffled, to find where my discarded pyjamas had gotten to. I decide, in my bad mood, to let her keep up her fruitless look.

Instead, I march with as much dignity as my hungover mind can allow, stark fucking naked in front of Rita, Frieda, and Laska. They don’t even blink. At least they all knew I had gone out drinking last night. I would happily let them believe my temper was because of a splitting headache rather than self-pity and rejection.

I am almost at the bathroom door when I get a better look at Frieda.

“Frieda!” I gasp, hurrying to her side. “What happened?”

The older woman sports a hideous purple-and-yellow black eye. Her eyes dart away quickly, and her mouth remains tightly sealed. Confused, I glance at the others, but they won’t meet my eyes. That’s when it hits me.

“Did he—” I can’t even finish the question. My stomach roils, and my fury comes back tenfold. “Your male did this.”

Rita quickly steps between us. “Delta, I know you are still coming to terms with the way fae run things, but you need to know there is no stopping this. We all knew what we could face when coming here. Some of us, like you and me, were extremely lucky to have been Hunted and found by our males. Frieda was…” she pauses, looking sadly back at the other woman… “not so lucky.”

I push past Rita. “Frieda, let me talk to Lord Draekoh—”

“Please don’t, Delta,” Frieda cuts in. My heart shatters when I see the glistening tears in her eyes. As she stares at me imploringly, a tear escapes and glides down her battered cheek. “There is nothing you can do for me. There is nothing the High Lord can do. By faerie law, I belong to Bjuum. I am his property to do with as he wishes.”

“We had hoped Bjuum’s assaults would stop with the arrival of his new woman,” Rita says, tenderly touching Frieda’s arm. “He Hunted again this year, you see.”

“I have been unable to bear him children,” Frieda explains. “And my body is not as enticing, nor as fertile, as it once was. In the last few years, his attacks have gotten worse. He despises my aging body. I am afraid…” she cuts herself off, whimpering. She ducks her head onto Rita’s shoulder. The other woman immediately leads her out into the antechamber.

When they are gone, I meet Laska’s worried expression.

“She thinks he is going to kill her, doesn’t she?” I ask, fury zapping through my veins. My body warms in response.

Laska nods, then quickly retreats to the wardrobe.

* * *

After emptying my near-to-bursting bladder, I pop into the bath, setting the water to steaming. If only it could match the burning fury I felt in my body.

All too soon, there is a knock at the door. Laska calls that it is time to come out.

Sighing, I comply. My skin is pink and tender from the heat. I dry myself roughly before donning a dressing gown and exiting the bathroom.

Frieda is nowhere in sight.

“She has retreated to the gardens to soothe her troubled mind,” Rita says with a sad smile. “She will return when it is time to meet with the guests. Think no more of it. She has long accepted her fate and is content. Come now. We must prepare you.”

I hold my tongue sourly. I didn’t care what they said. This Bjuum needed to be taken down a peg or two. I would talk to the High Lord at the first opportunity.

The High Lord…

Memories of last night slam into my mind: his body, his touch, his words and, oddly, a vague memory of him standing over me as I slept, lightning flashing from his fingertips into my chest in a rhythmic beat as my body exploded in heat and an indescribable shock of pain. I blink. At least I could put that part of the night away into the dream locker, for I knew that hadn’t happened. As to everything else… My cheeks burn, and I quickly pick up the glass of water set in front of me, downing it before either of my handmaids can notice something is amiss. My eyes flicker to each, but both are lost in thought, lips pursed, and brows furrowed.

I want to slap myself. Here I am worried about my interaction with the High Lord, and how awkward it was going to be to be in his presence today, when I should be worrying about my friend. Her health and safety should be at the forefront of my mind, as it were Laska’s and Rita’s.