Chapter Six
I carefully work the golden buttons on my perfectly tailored shirt.
Under other circumstances, I might find the clothing attractive. I immediately shake my head at that absurd thought.
No– probably not.
The crisp white of everything makes me nervous. I am of the trees and nature. I am also of fire and ash. None of those elements are meant for so much… white .
Taking a steadying breath, I move to grab the tunic vest. Then the ribbons. Taking the time to make sure everything is carefully placed and added.
I am supremely grateful that Laeryne did not insist on attending me. The past few nights have been absolute–
Bile rises in my throat, and I will my stomach to ease.
Breathing slowly and focusing my mind on Forsythia, I manage to calm my nerves. I can see her in my mind. The memory of her beautiful sleeping form. They let me see her a few days ago. She was so peaceful and so beautiful.
My heart crumbles a little more as I think about what is about to happen and what I can do to stop it. So far, I have come up completely empty-handed.
When Laeryne came to my room and began speaking about the grooming she needed to do in order for me to be ‘ready’ for the Princess, I had a moment of weakness and attempted to leap from my bedroom window.
I quickly discovered that they had a Dryma bubble-like barrier surrounding the entire castle that makes it so that when you exit through a window, you are spun around and spat back in the way you left. My body whipped around, and the air was tight around me as it tossed me onto the floor of my room.
Her cackling laughter was almost as bad as her dry, calloused hands groping at my body shortly after.
No.
I will not vomit again.
I will do this, and everything else I need to, to keep my mate safe.
Even if the magickal binding that takes place during the ceremony will destroy our precious soulbond. Closing my eyes, I focus again on my breathing. A single tear sneaks out and burns as it travels down my cheek.
I will do this for her. I will subject myself to this internal torment and external abuse… for her . To keep her from harm. To keep her safe.
The thought brings on a new vision. Laeryne holding the knife above Forsythia’s abdomen. She smiled wickedly when she saw how easily her threat was working. She was in her best of moods that evening, and I had no choice but to be her obedient little slave .
At least that is one bit of good news to come from all of this.
Once the ceremony is complete, Laeryne will no longer be able to touch me. In fact, touching the Royal Consort is grounds for having a hand or two removed.
My imagination runs wild at the thought of Laeryne having one of her hands removed for trying to touch me. Or attempting to order me to touch her. Maybe if I caught her alone, I could just remove one of her hands and claim that she had touched me. I mean, what would they do? Punish me?
I laugh at that thought.
Nothing could possibly be more punishment than this.
When I breathe again, I am sobered by the remembrance that there is something more I can be punished with.
I will not be the cause of any more pain to Animus Meus .
Once I finish tying the last of the ribbons on my waist, I use a small bit of rope to tie my hair back. I no sooner finish when the door to my room opens, and Laeryne walks in.
For a woman who is nearly one-thousand years my senior, she could easily pass for a fit fifty-year old human woman. You know, if not for the heavily pointed ears and the slight purple sheen to her flesh. Elves are known for their exterior beauty, and Laeryne is no exception to this fact.
If she had even a sliver of that beauty on the inside, she would be a formidable force.
Instead, her beauty leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Even before you know how truly demented and blackened her soul is.
“Now, now. A Royal Consort has no need to grimace. Your face looks much more handsome when you relax your features. That is all anyone cares about anyway. You need to look like the perfect accessory for my darling niece.” Her sing-song voice grates my nerves, but when she touches a finger to my chin, I forget myself and jump a little.
She tuts at me and grips my chin firmly. “What have I said about pulling away?” Her words are calm, but her lip turns up into a slight snarl.
Keeping my breathing even, I manage to stay perfectly still in her icy grip as I recite the words she shoved down my throat during so many years of conditioning.
“ A touch is a gift, and a gift such as this should never be rejected . I apologize, my lady. Please feel free to–“ My mouth dries up, and I struggle to continue.
“Feel free to what, Pet?“ She moves closer, and I pray to the Gods she doesn’t rub her body against mine.
Again.
I take a steadying breath and force the words out between clenched teeth. “Feel free to touch me as much as you like, my lady.”
She smiles, and the sight turns my skin to ice. Releasing my chin, she moves her hand down my body.
As her hand continues traveling, I let my mind drift away to happier thoughts. Such as my mate’s smile while she chops off Laeyrne’s head.