Ravenous (Taint of the Gods #1)

46. RIEKA

46

RIEKA

“ Y ou're not wearing that, are you?” Tira asked me as I studied my reflection.

It had been nine days since I’d put the marriage band around Rhydian’s wrist, and in those nine days, I had finally managed to convince myself that it didn’t matter that I had developed feelings for this man.

It didn’t matter that every time he looked at me my heart skipped a beat. Metaphorically of course. And at some point in the last two weeks, since we’d escaped the garrison, I’d admitted to the fact I couldn’t sleep unless he was beside me. An infuriating admonition.

But none of this mattered unless I got him to admit he was in love with me. Unless he committed to me that he wanted nothing more than my freedom. Even if it meant reneging on whatever deal he’d made with the buyer.

It was an utterly selfish goal, but it was the only comforting one.

Without it, I was betraying my promise to Taren to go after him. Without it, it was as if I didn’t care about Kris anymore, that I had forgotten why I was here in the first place. To save her. To find her. Even if I had feelings for Rhydian, he was still to blame for kidnapping Kris. And I could never forgive him for that.

Nor could I forgive myself for giving in to those feelings.

I didn’t deserve them.

So I would act like the doting wife because that is what this path required of me. I would use my affection for him to deepen his feelings for me, even if the thought of hurting him, of losing him as I almost had at the garrison broke me. I was culpable for my situation.

Whatever small piece of happiness I felt when I was with him, I was undeserving of it.

So now I stood in the washroom of our sleeper, contemplating how best to achieve my ends, whilst being judged by a fifteen-year-old Terrestrial who thought my attire entirely unsuitable for my "husband’s" birthday party.

“I think you should wear this,” Tira said as she ducked behind S’vara on the bunk to retrieve something from behind the she-wolf. The older woman found the entire situation amusing.

“I would have thought you’d have a better sense of style. Don’t all Deogns wear silks and embroidered satins?” she mused as she weaved a series of ropes together, the traded item draped across her lap in several rows.

“Only Devoted can afford those kinds of garments,” I corrected her, not inclined to remind her I was one for a time.

What Tira retrieved from the inside of their bunk was a rather large bundle of crimson-coloured fabric that when she held it up, I recognised. It was the garment that Ghena made for Rhydian at the Talent Show.

Though the lines were far improved. The cut was more flattering, and the waist was now fitted rather than loose as it had been on his body. “Did Rhydian give it to you?”

She immediately smiled. “He thought you might like it.”

“Why didn't he give it to me?” He certainly could have, with how intimate we had been lately, I certainly would have thought him capable of giving me something as simple as a dress.

S'vara provided her own answer. “Probably because if he saw you in it, his dick would get hard and he'd have to rip it right back off. And it would be a waste of a perfectly good dress.”

Tira rushed back over and displayed the dress over my chest. “It suits you. It’s like you’re wearing his jacket, don’t you think?’’

I honestly thought I would prefer Rhydian’s jacket. I had not worn a dress like this is years, I wouldn’t be surprised if I tripped in it the moment I stepped off the train.

“And you can wear your gloves if you want. I know how you like them.”

I held a gloved hand over the fabric, the movement jostling the band on my wrist. “Maybe this once, I don’t.” Passengers here barely noticed my tattoo anymore, and those who did didn’t care to ask about it. I could go a day without wearing them and I didn’t bother me as much as I expected. Besides, I’d given Rhydian the band to show off. It wouldn’t be fair if I covered it with a glove.

“Do you really think I should be wearing something like this? Don’t you think it draws too much attention?” I ran my hand over the sheer crimson fabric, Lantern Town after all was said to accommodate more than just Blessed.

”It’s romantic,” Tira said as she began twisting my hair over my shoulder, the white strands a stark contrast to the crimson. Though I wondered how much longer they would stay that way, the black had reached my shoulders.

“Besides,” Tira added. “It’s for his birthday.”

In the past week, the Runners had made a big deal out of it, as though his turning twenty-five was some exceptional milestone, aside from the fact he was still alive. But after that conversation we’d had in The Aviary , it probably had more to do with the fact he would remain uncollared for another year. He would be the resistance leader for another year before he too became a prisoner of the train.

Messages had been sent to Filora in Lantern Town for days as she and her Runners organised the party. Every passenger was expected to be in attendance tomorrow, the littles being the exception.

Tira fluffed up the skirts, revealing a split in the leg.

The scarlet had a metallic sheen to it that made it shimmer under the Bright-lights of the sleeper, a material similar to the crimson fabric Rhydian had worn in Old King’s Town.

It really was lovely. Especially with the low-cut neckline and the gold embroidery. Someone had stitched what looked like pine leaves into the fabric across the waist and the neckline. And it had sleeves—long beautiful sheer bell cuffed sleeves that reached my wrists. It had more material than any dress I’d ever worn in Deos. That made it all the more appealing.

In the mirror, S’vara’s reflection leaned back in the bunk, the knots she habitually tied I now realised were part of some kind of net. “We’re prisoners, Ree, not dead. Live a little. Besides, when was the last time your husband saw you in something nice.”

I open my mouth to comment but she cut me off. “And I don’t mean your bare-naked ass.”