Chapter 12
Daisy
Magic held him in place. Black spikes speared into his sides and bands wrapped around his arms and torso.
He stood in front of the king’s dais—in front of the whole court.
The nobles snickered behind their hands or fans, laughed and guffawed while in their plush seats. They were eagerly watching the show.
“Let’s see this physique you have worked so hard on, shall we?” Princess Elamorna looked up at him with lustful, cruel eyes. The black ring of obsidian royalty ran like a river around her pupils.
He didn’t fight the bonds of magic. Didn’t give her the satisfaction of showing his embarrassment. His shame.
She sliced through his tunic. Yanked at the shoulders and cut down the back. After baring his torso, she moved on to his pants, creating long strips of torn fabric to give the court a peep show.
“Hmm, such fine stock. Yes, court?” She turned to her audience, who whooped and hollered, their usual demure mannerisms long lost to the twisted nature of the magic running through this place.
She looked up at him again and whispered, “So many accolades with the highest court in the land, and just look at what you’ve become. Nothing but a whore.”
She ripped the fabric away, revealing all of him, and stepped aside so the court could see his nudity. She laughed as she stroked his body and rubbed up his legs.
“Who would like a sample?” she called to the court. “Or should I alone have my fill?”
Several females stood, laughing uproariously.
They staggered as they came up, drunk or high or out of their minds with magic.
They knelt before him one by one, using their hands and their mouths…
but they had no effect. There was not an ounce of lust within Tarian.
In fact, the sensations disgusted him. Shriveled what the gods gave him.
A few males tried as well, a contest to make him erect. But in all the years he’d been here—been subjected to this treatment—only one had held that mantle. Only one had coaxed lust from him. And they’d killed her.
Princess Elamorna laughed, waving them away. She thought she’d finally be able to master him. With whatever magic she’d concocted this time, she thought she’d finally be able to reduce him to her groveling little pet.
Her eyes shone with confidence as she prowled around him, her long nails, like claws, raking across his skin.
Gashes opened up in their wake, but he didn’t feel the sting.
Magic curled around him, a black haze soaking into his pores.
Pleasure coursed deep, tingling his balls, willing him to give in to her ministrations.
She took him in hand and knelt in front of him, and he looked down at her as he struggled against the magic holding him.
As he struggled against the obsidian burned into his back, locking him in this hell.
As he raged against the god who had damned him to this fate.
He would not give in to this. He would not allow the magic to take hold. He would not become twisted within this court—a stranger to this realm. He loved Faerie too much to forsake it.
So he resisted that magic. He resisted her.
Her face was a mask of fury when next she looked up at him. Saliva coated the corner of her mouth.
He forced a condescending smirk.
“If you weren’t so hideous, maybe you’d have some effect, hmm?” he said flippantly, as though none of this bothered him.
He barely felt the whips afterward, the blades parting his flesh. He barely noticed the pain as they made pulp of his body and dumped him into his chambers for his Fallen to attend. He’d won. He’d beaten her yet again.
He would beat her still.
Daisy sucked in a breath as she jerked awake in Tarian’s large bed.
She clutched her chest where the pain had felt so fresh, grasped her cloth nightgown to ensure it was still draped around her body.
The images from the moment swam before her eyes, haunting her.
Breaking her heart and seeping down through her middle.
They faded, having felt so real. Seemed real, like she’d been there. She felt like she’d been him.
The emotions of the moment took longer to dissipate.
Soft light filtered in through fake windows at the back wall, the magic mimicking the time of day, like the solarium. Apparently, lesser nobles didn’t get rooms with real windows and fresh air. If they didn’t have the magic to create it themselves, they felt their station.
Tarian lay on his side, his head propped up on his hand. The covers pooled at his waist, and a sad smile crossed his handsome face.
“Didn’t decide to run, huh?” he said, the teasing tone not reaching his solemn eyes.
She’d thought about leaving for a split second…and that had been stupidly long enough. She wasn’t a complete idiot.
Instead, she’d used the makeshift toilet, shed her clothes, dressed in a huge robe Tarian had in the bathroom, and stared at the water contraption until Kayla and a female called Faelynn had come in to help.
Faelynn was their healer, incredibly powerful and insightful in all things medicinal, and incredibly introverted.
She hardly made eye contact the whole time she’d been there.
Daisy didn’t answer Tarian’s question. She’d thought a lot about things last night—about whom she might trust, why, and all the reasons behind those answers.
She’d gone over all the details she knew, all the ways this venture could unravel, and thought about the choices at her disposal if Eldric was correct.
She’d thought about the ways this new information, if true, would change her mind.
“I didn’t wake when you came in last night,” she started.
“No.” His gaze didn’t waver. “I magically made sure of that. I needed some attention from Faelynn. My…meeting didn’t go as smoothly as planned.”
“Why didn’t you want me awake for that?”
He hesitated. “Because you needed your rest. And it…wasn’t pretty.”
She felt like smiling…and like cursing. He didn’t want her to worry. How cute. But it wasn’t his fucking choice to make.
Smoothing down her anger, she said, “Please stop deciding when I should and should not sleep. If I want to sleep and can’t, I’ll ask for help.
If I want to be awake when you stumble in bloody and crying, you need to let me.
” She shrugged. “If only so I can make fun of you for not being able to defend yourself.”
He watched her, his eyes starting to sparkle from the last comment. “Fair enough,” he murmured.
Now it was she who was watching him, noticing the tension in his body that he was trying to hide. The embarrassment…and the shame from the treatment he’d had no control over. That this court and those horrible creatures had forced upon him. That they, and the gods with them, needed to answer for.
Anger unfurled in her. She kept a tight rein on it, though. Anger wasn’t needed from her right now. Anger would come later.
Because of Dylan, she had a lot of experience in this role. She’d been the third leg of his tripod for many rough nights as his memories of the past had resurfaced. He’d occasionally needed someone to help him out of the darkness, and he trusted her.
Sometimes all she’d done was listen, sometimes she’d raged, but she’d always made it clear she was there for him.
No matter what he needed to share or what he chose not to, she took it in stride and returned unconditional love and support.
And she would—if she ever saw him again—for as long as she lived. That was what it meant to be family.
Tarian wasn’t her family—far from it—but she wouldn’t turn away a wounded soul. She wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to help him claim vengeance. Fuck this court. Fuck those royals. Fuck those terrible gods who shit on their children instead of helping them.
She took a deep breath. Not giving in to the rage was easily the hardest part of this role. She constantly struggled with it.
“That dream…was your memory,” she surmised in an even tone. “The one Circus Tent Martha was talking about.”
He barely nodded. “You need to know why I will ask for various things from you. Why I need to make a show of my reaction to you.”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t need to know why.
I trust you, remember? What I need is to believe your reasoning is valid.
And I do. I need to know your past in order to stand witness.
I need to understand your pain so I know how to support you when you need help shouldering it.
When it overwhelms you, I will stand in and be your strength.
And so help me gods-that-actually-give-a-shit, if she tries to do that in my presence, I will—”
She clenched her jaw. Easily the hardest part of this role.
He grabbed her as though he couldn’t help himself, cupping her cheeks, his fingers diving into her hair.
He kissed her passionately, his tongue delving into her mouth and tangling with hers.
He held her in place, kissing her with everything he was, like it was a compulsion.
A deep, desperate need. She felt it with every fiber of her being, swept away with his taste. His touch.
They were both breathing hard when they separated. His eyes sparkled harder now despite the pain she saw there.
“So adorable,” he whispered, his tone gravelly and deep.
“Your fury is refreshing, actually. I have always loved your viciousness. The Fallen are supportive and sympathetic. They are mad, but I think the years here have worn us all down. That was the most public display she’s ever done, but she has wanted to claim my desire since the very first time I set foot in this court.
A big part of me thinks that’s why they killed Sansy the way they did. ”
Sansy must’ve been his first love, whom he’d trapped with affection and they’d tortured to death in front of him.