Chapter 15
They weren’t lying when they said I would have everything I could ever dream of.
From beautiful dresses to sensuous perfumes and creams. I have books, parchment to write my own stories on, and instruments to play.
The various kitchens are stocked with sumptuous cakes and candies, decadent meats, and mouthwatering cheeses.
As well as enough wine and mead to keep me dizzy for the rest of my days.
Maybe in time, it will ease the burden of losing my sister, and perhaps I’ll forget all about the life I left behind.
There’s been no word from my village. The horsemen don’t like to speak of it.
Every morning, I run to the largest terrace, the one that faces east, toward home.
It’s miles away, but it makes me feel closer to Lucy.
I talk to her even though she’ll never hear my words.
I carry on conversations as if she were right beside me.
And then I pray to the gods for her safety.
I plead with them to spare her from the wrath of vile men and vengeful saints.
With the final day of Yule approaching, I can’t help but look forward to the lightness of the spring equinox.
These past weeks have been an awakening, but it has been a brutal winter.
Each of my horsemen has their own depraved tastes, enacting them out on my body every night until I can barely keep my eyes open.
Death doesn’t mind if I’m asleep. His appetite is voracious, and I often wake up in the middle of the night with his cock buried deep inside me. I was startled at first, but I’ve begun to crave it. Need it even.
And so tonight, after waking from a restless sleep, I can’t mask my disappointment when I find my giant bed of furs empty. I pull my robe on and creep barefoot through the castle in search of them with an ache between my thighs.
Voices carry from the great hall; I follow the sound, my heart racing.
I have never wanted men the way I do them.
In my youth, I sometimes fantasized about taking a lover.
But my hopes were shattered the day my parents sat me down to tell me of the great sacrifice I’d soon make.
I was barely a girl, let alone a woman, when my destiny was decided for me.
I stopped dreaming soon after. What was the point of craving carnal things if I was to never experience them?
The Four Horsemen have set me free. They’ve broken me and pieced me back together. With each passing day, my fear dissipates. No one is going to take me away from them. I am bound to them and this place. It is where I belong.
My thighs are wet by the time I reach the room. But I don’t expect what I find. I gasp as I take in the transformation. The entire hall is lit with candles. The stone hearth blazes with flames that lick around a pile of yule logs. Garlands of dark-green pine and ivy decorate the mantle.
And in the center of the room, my four horsemen sip from their goblets. Scents of cinnamon sticks and apples waft through the air. Mulled cider. It is divine. My mouth salivates. For the drink, and for them.
They are all muscle and chiseled features, strong and fierce like warriors. Dressed in all black, they gather around the table expecting me.
Conquest’s eyes light up when I make my presence known. I feel the heat rush through my body, my skin so damp, the thin cotton nightdress clings to me like a glove.
A low growl hums from War’s chest. He pats the inside of his thigh. “Come sit on my lap.”
I swallow hard and shuffle forward, still mesmerized by the decorations. When I’m within his reach, he yanks my hips, pulling me down to his lap. His cock swells against my ass.
Death hands me a goblet. “Happy Yule, little doe. Do you like what we’ve done?”
I nod before I take a sip of the delectable cider. The warm spice coats my tongue, causing me to moan into the goblet. “You did all of this for me?”
Conquest leans forward, his chest bare underneath his unbuttoned cloak. “Ay, we did. Is it to your liking?”
“I love it. Thank you.” I take another sip of my favorite drink and lean back against War’s chest. “You’ve spiked this with something. I feel… dizzy.”
Famine laughs. “Well, of course.”
“It’s mixed with honey mead and a dash of opium,” Death explains.
I close my eyes and let the intoxicant work its way through my veins. It’s a faint pull to a euphoric abyss but not too strong. Just enough to take one’s edge off. “It’s delicious.” I breathe the words against War’s neck.
He stiffens, his breath hitching. “Don’t be gentle with me, Imogen. I’m not a gentle man.”
A giggle bubbles out of me. I feel so light and free. “Oh, I know. You’re a brute. Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
Famine bursts out laughing. He peers into his own cup. “How much opium did you put in here?”
Death leans back in his chair, his brows pinched together. “Enough to soften the blow.”
I scrape my teeth across War’s throat, whimpering. “Tell me what depraved things you have in store for me today.”
Conquest raises an eyebrow. “What blow? Do you have news of the village?”
The muscle in Death’s jaw ticks. He glares down at the feast laid before us on the table and nods.
My belly flutters, but it doesn’t feel like butterflies. Not the good kind anyway. Something is wrong. I can feel it in my bones. But my head is spinning. I can’t grasp my own emotions with the opium trickling through my veins.
Famine’s face shifts from amusement to concern. “Well, spit it out. Let’s have it. How bad is it?”
War sits forward, forcing me to sit up instead of draping myself across him. “I see now. The opium isn’t for our pleasure. Tell us… tell her what you found.”
Death fingers a loose thread from the gold tablecloth. His face is more pensive than usual. “Imogen… When I smelled the smoke, I rode all night. But I didn’t get there in time. I’m sorry.”
I bolt from War’s lap too fast, and all the blood rushes to my feet. He catches me before I topple over, and places me in the chair next to him. “Easy now.”
Nothing makes sense. I don’t understand his words, but deep inside I know what he’s saying. “Sorry for what?” A sense of dread grips me like two clawed hands around my throat. If he says what I fear the most aloud…
Death rises from his chair. He circles the table and kneels before me, taking my trembling hands in his. “Saint Nick destroyed your village. Everyone is dead.”
A wave of nausea sweeps through my belly. I slump back in my chair, my heart pounding as the toxin in my blood races to sedate me. I’m fighting with the adrenaline, the shock.
“But… you said he wouldn’t… It was my fault. He should have punished me—” I choke back a sob.
Conquest sighs, his eyes full of pity. “He did. Saint Nick can’t get to you here. So he got to them, knowing that would hurt you the most.”
I shudder and hug my arms to my chest. “No.” I shake my head. “Not Lucy.”
They can’t look at me. The four of them hang their heads, their gazes trained on the floor.
I want to scream and throw things, but my limbs feel heavy. My head is mush. Memories and dreams scramble through my brain like a storm. Lucy…
Death squeezes my hands. “It was always going to be you or them.”
Tears stream down my cheeks. “I don’t care about them. I was saving her,” I cry. “She was supposed to live. My sacrifice means nothing.”
Famine doesn’t laugh for once. Instead, he scoops me up in his arms, carries me over to the hearth, and makes me lie down in front of it. The warm furs against my back do nothing to soothe the devastation in my heart.
He lies down next to me and nuzzles my ear. “You will be all right, little doe. You’re safe with us. In time, you might even grow to love us.”
I don’t know how long we lie there before the others join us. They surround me on the floor, quiet and still.
War watches me. I thought he hated me, but now I realize that his scowl is simply a part of his face. He sits behind me on the floor, cradling my head in his hands. “Your village paid the price for our greed. But this is not your fault. We gave you no choice.”
I cry into his lap while they caress me. I feel fingers on my back, my thighs and ankles. All gentle strokes, attempting to soothe the ache in my chest. But I can’t be helped. My heart is broken. I close my eyes, and right before I drift off to sleep, I beg the gods to take me too.
Sunlight streams through the stained glass windows of my room, casting an array of colors across the alabaster floors—rich hues of red and gold, like blood and fire. The second I open my eyes, I draw in a sharp breath. The hazy memories from last night flood my brain.
Lucy is gone…
I should’ve run faster. I should’ve cried out for Saint Nick and begged him to come get me. I should have… died.
Fresh tears pour from my heavy lids. I sob into my sheets, wishing I could go back in time and make Lucy run away with me like we talked about. This is my punishment for leaving. For not fighting harder.
After lying in bed for most of the morning, I decide to force myself up. Perhaps roaming around the castle will bring me some solace.
I choose an elegant black gown to wear. It has a lace-up corset and long satin skirt, one of the many beautiful pieces they’ve gifted me with. This dressing room is bigger than my entire cottage back home.
Home.
It’s all gone. Burned to the ground along with the people in it.
I shiver as I stare at myself in the mirror, barely recognizing the face looking back. My skin glows with the flush of womanhood. But my eyes reflect my loss.
I pile my blonde hair into a high bun, drawing a few wisps out to frame my rosy cheeks. Then dab a rose-scented cream under my puffy eyes.
As I stand back and survey the stranger before me, I shudder. I am the queen of Death and Conquest and Famine and War. The old gods are so quiet now. They’ve abandoned me. And I do not blame them.