CHAPTER TWELVE #3
I pressed my lips together, searching him for even a remnant of the overwhelming charm he lathered on moments prior.
But all I could find was cold, unbothered malignance.
I had the distinct impression I did not want to know what my father’s plan for me had been, and yet, despite my silence, Rowland continued.
“He said my only responsibility was to obtain you.” His sharpened words shouldn’t have landed true—I knew all too well the disregard my father had for me—yet to have my beliefs confirmed so cavalierly was crippling.
“What else? Oh, yes, that we needn’t bother with a proposal for appearance’s sake alone.
Depths, he was even willing to forgo a ceremony. ”
“And?” I bit back. My chest burned with rage, a crawling sensation reaching for now-warm cheeks, but I measured my response all the same.
“It’s been six years since you were meant to visit our kingdom with a proposal ‘for appearance’s sake,’ and patience is rarely a kingly attribute.
He’s ready for the Treaty to be fulfilled, as we all are.
” The lie was smooth on my lips—rehearsed and poised.
“Perhaps,” Rowland allowed, though the stiffness in his expression did not wilt.
“Or perhaps he has grown weary of your presence. If your own father finds you little more than a nuisance, an inconsequential girl he can’t wait to be rid of…
” Rowland clicked his tongue against his teeth in dismay, a dramatic display of his growing displeasure.
“I wonder how long it will take me to tire of you. I may have to get… creative… to keep myself entertained.”
With each venomous word, my nightmares materialized before my very eyes.
How could this be the man Father expected me to marry?
How was I meant to live out my days attached to someone who clearly had little interest in playing the role of husband?
I had accepted the likelihood that our union would be passionless, but to be outright despised by my betrothed?
To be given to a man who wielded his words as though they were weapons?
“If you’re so… displeased with me,” I started through gritted teeth, “then why not rebuke your Treaty calling? Another will take your place.”
If only I had the freedom to do the same.
“My displeasure stems from your demeanor, Alyssum.” The would-be tenderness that pulled his brows together was unsettling, for it was accompanied by wide, predatory eyes that glowed menacingly in the firelight.
“You see, your father understands the simple truth that clearly was not conveyed to you.”
My eyes widened as Rowland neared, his movements sleek and graceful, in distinct opposition to the malice that dripped from his lips.
Each venomous utterance had coiled my insides tight.
I begged my hand to reach for my hidden dagger, but I had been rendered a glacial statue, rooted to the spot.
Terror coursed relentlessly through me, a fearful, roaring silence drowning out the celebration entirely.
By the time he was within reach, I was helpless to defend as his hand extended in a blur of motion to slam against my chest.
I collided with the stone wall of the inner balcony, the force leaving me breathless.
I loosed only an agonized gasp, though it was short-lived, for a cold palm wrapped easily around my throat.
Rowland’s hand tightened in warning, expertly enough to discourage a sound yet still allow for just enough air that I might remain conscious.
My wide, bulging eyes darted from side to side, praying to the stars that anyone at all had noticed, but torches throughout the kingdom had been extinguished to assist with stargazing, and we were all but invisible to the distracted patrons of the Feast of Comets.
A strangled squeal slipped from my mouth as he drew his face forward, nose burying into my neck.
He inhaled with such fervor, lips grazing my skin in earnest, as if he were searching for something.
I wanted to startle him, or hurt him, or do anything that might make him relinquish my throat—but all I could do was seize his wrist and fruitlessly pull, signaling my growing need to breathe.
With a cruel chuckle, Rowland relaxed his grip just enough that I was able to gulp in the night’s cooling air.
“I’ve never smelled a Soran woman before.
I thought it would be… special,” he cooed, still breathing me in hungrily.
“There is something, I’ll admit, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. ”
My brow furrowed in desperate confusion, but as his hand left my throat and traveled tauntingly down my neck, how I smelled to him was the least of my concerns.
In a single instant, I gathered my might and jerked violently from his grasp—but his strength was overwhelming.
He fisted the root of my braid and slammed my cheek against the wall. My mouth pooled with blood.
“This is the truth you need to live by, the guiding light that will now determine your fortune beyond any comet or Creator you hold dear,” he whispered in my ear as he pinned my stomach against Lunamor Castle. “You belong to me, and I will do with you as I please. And oh, my wife—”
The word summoned a sudden burst of nausea, or perhaps that was the suffocating way he pressed his body to mine, shoving me against the stone. My useless dagger dug into my hip, taunting me.
“—the things I plan to do to you.”
“Please,” I begged, keeping my voice low even as blood spattered from my lips. I knew no one would hear me regardless, and it was not worth risking his ire. I ignored the salty tears that fled down my cheeks, and the way my wrists ached beneath his hold. “Please don’t—”
“My chambers are proofed,” Rowland muttered, his hands settling on my hips and pulling me against his hardness with abandon. “You’ll scream as loud as I can make you, and no one will be able to—”
“Rowland.”
I barely registered the woman who approached, instead preoccupied with the sudden freedom of my body. I pressed my back against the wall, hoping I might be swallowed by the stone itself as I suppressed the whimper that threatened to escape my blood-stained lips.
Rowland stood a few paces from me, expression devoid of emotion and posture exceedingly straight.
His eyes were fixed on my savior, another Hollow I did not recognize.
Her hair cascaded down a lithe abdomen in effortless gold-spun curls, contrasting heavily with the deep brown of her skin and dark Hollowmire silks.
Despite what I had heard about Hollow women, she wore a flattering dress with long slits that left smooth legs on display.
Her neckline was immodest, fleeing from jutting collarbones and a ruby larger than any gemstone I had in my collection.
Her full lips, wide eyes, and perfectly sloped nose were reminiscent of my attacker.
“I must apologize for my brother,” she said laboriously, the incline of her head sympathetic. “We’ve tried to tame him, and my father thought we’d made significant headway, but alas…”
“Silvia,” Rowland seethed. “She’s mine.”
Silvia strolled forward, the heel of her thigh-high, pointed boots echoing ominously with each step. “Nothing is yours until I say it is.”
My gaze volleyed between the two as I held my throat, still sucking in breaths as though the air might run out any moment. I used the back of my sleeve to wipe the blood from my chin and spat out the rest.
The white of Rowland’s teeth caught my eye as he bared them, a guttural, heart-stopping noise rumbling from his chest, but with the rise of her head and soft click of her tongue, he dropped to his knees as though they’d given out.
“You should know better by now, Row,” she sighed, running a long-fingered, delicate hand down golden curls. Silvia stood before him, head and hip cocked in opposite directions. “We’ll discuss this later. Leave us.”
Rowland drew himself up, demeanor decidedly absent the violent predator that had attacked me moments before.
When his empty gaze whipped in my direction, I couldn’t help but flinch against the wall, a free hand reflexively seizing the hilt of my dagger.
Although it appeared he very much did not want to, Rowland stalked to the other side of the balcony, all hunched shoulders and disappointment, before disappearing down a flight of stairs.
Every inch of my body craved collapse. I yearned to curl inward, wrap my arms around my legs, and never resurface.
But there was no time to fall apart. This could not be my life, and he could not be my future.
I steeled myself with a shaky inhale, releasing my throbbing neck and standing to my full height to assess Silvia.
Her hand lazily outstretched in my direction, a plum-colored handkerchief with poppy embroidery dangling from her fingers.
“Thank you,” I muttered, snatching the fabric from her grasp. I wiped my mouth and chin before stepping out of the shadows. Firelight from a distant torch barely illuminated my face, but I still turned this way and that so Silvia could identify anything in disarray.
“May I?” she asked, extending her palm.
I studied her sharp features carefully before deciding I had little choice.
I handed her the handkerchief and closed my eyes, hoping to convince the frantic part of my brain that I was safe—I had spent my life under the gentle hands of my maids, always ensuring nothing about my appearance was out of place, and this was no different.
She retrieved the cloth, and I despised the wince that occurred when she neared, her cool hand thumbing my jaw.
I allowed her to reposition my head, fighting the urge to resist.
She wiped away the sections I had missed, and with a soft tut, drew her fingers down my neck and into my hair. “We’re going to have to do something about this.”
I opened my eyes to see that she was holding my braid.
I gave her a swift nod, and she loosened the dark purple ribbon I’d chosen to accent my Soran hue.
Silvia tied it securely around my wrist—“For safekeeping,” she insisted—and began tousling my hair about my frame.
My barely-there wave had been enhanced by the braid.
Hopefully that would draw attention away from the red splotches I could feel growing along my neck.
“Why aren’t you hysterical?” Silvia asked suddenly, her golden eyes avoiding mine. She continued to dust off my clothes and readjust errant strands of pale blonde.
I looked to the distracted villagers imbibing in drink, song, and one another. Many were spellbound by the sky:
“Can you see it?”
“It’s beautiful!”
“Look, there’s another one!”
I returned to Silvia with a steeled inhale, swallowing the bloody saliva that continued to collect in my mouth. “I am a princess of Lunamor. I have a responsibility to my kingdom to remain composed.” And causing an uproar would only enrage my father, whose support I was in dire need of.
Silvia thumbed part of my lower lip, her attention seemingly caught there. When she finally took a step back with an approving nod, I asked the sharp question sticking in my throat.
“Why did you stop him?”
“Because I don’t approve of harming those who haven’t begged for it.” A small smirk pulled at the corner of her full lips, and it was all I could do to tear my eyes away.
“And it appears Rowland does.” I dropped my head, the harsh reality of my circumstance setting in.
“Rowland approves of whatever Rowland wants. Unfortunately for the rest of us, he’s quite demented.” The casual way with which she used that word set my teeth on edge.
“This isn’t a joke,” I said, rage blooming in my core.
“And I’m not joking.” Silvia’s voice was stern as her gaze lowered to meet mine.
“When Mother noticed the animals disappearing, she thought a wolf had made its way onto the castle grounds. It wasn’t until the smell permeated the corridor beyond Row’s chambers that anyone thought to check.
I would describe to you the state those creatures were found in, but I imagine you’ve had your fill of Row’s antics for one evening.
Ever since, it’s been a battle to normalize the little demon.
We’ve tried physicians, herbalists, more scholars than you’ve seen in your lifetime—but what can you do when part of someone is just… missing?”
My stomach tightened with a distinct urge to empty itself. The acrid taste coating my tongue was difficult to swallow, so I clasped my mouth. I shook in disbelief, a back-and-forth motion of my head that provided little comfort. This was not an existence I could will away, try as I might.
“I know you have your responsibilities,” Silvia mocked, twirling a curl around one of her long fingers. “But between us ladies? If I were you, I’d run.”