Chapter VII Hard
VII Hard
I stumble when he leads me toward a large tent, his steps so much faster than before. He stops with a thwarted growl when I can’t keep up, supporting me so I don’t fall. When we set off again, he moves more slowly, but his shoulders are tense.
He pulls back the flap of the tent and motions me inside. It’s almost empty, a few bags gathered in the middle. It smells of leather and beeswax, scents I associate with men, and I look around with trepidation.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask, hugging myself.
“If you leave your thighs bare like this, they will be rubbed raw by noon,” he says calmly, searching for something in one of the bags. “Here.”
I stare at a garment made of thick linen, dark blue and clean. I don’t understand what it is until Magnar sighs and stretches it between his hands, still crouching.
It’s a pair of short trousers of sorts with an opening in the front. My face burns when I realize it’s some kind of male underclothing. Very indecent for him to show me, even if he’s my husband.
“Well, come here,” he says with impatience when I stand still, scared and offended. “We need to be off already. I want to reach our nearest castle before dark.”
“I… But what is it?”
He closes his eyes briefly, running a hand over his face. I squirm, feeling like an imposition, even though he’s taking me away against my will and I don’t even want to be here.
“Oh, darling,” he sighs with pity. “This is my underwear. It’s clean. I want you to wear it so the skin on your thighs is protected. You will still hurt in the evening, don’t get me wrong, but at least you won’t bleed. Please come here and put them on.”
“And… and that?” I ask, pointing at the opening.
“That’s for when I want to piss,” he snaps. “I’m not going to hurt you for fuck’s sake. I only want to help.”
I flinch at the ugly word but step closer, hesitating. Magnar doesn’t stand up from his crouch, a position that doesn’t bring his face lower than mine, anyway. When I’m within the reach of his long arms, he fists the skirt of my dress and pulls me closer.
“Put them on and let’s be off,” he grits out, angry and impatient.
I swallow my dignity and do as he says. I don’t want to hurt or bleed.
Magnar holds the underthings stretched open over the ground, and I step into them easily. The trouser legs are wide, and when he pulls the fabric up, I realize they hang as low as my knees. I’ll be well and truly covered.
“I can do it,” I hiss when Magnar fumbles with the string around my waist, both his arms buried under my skirts until the underclothes are securely fastened.
“No need. It’s done.”
He stands up and marches out of the tent, releasing a long, angry breath, his fists clenched. I glare after him, forgetting decorum for a moment. This man is utterly insufferable, and I hate him today even more than yesterday.
Trying not to think about the fact I’m wearing his underthings, I leave the stifling heat of the tent and go over to Magnar’s horse. Khay, who’s already mounted his, gives me a cheerful wave I don’t return. The way he towers above me, so high on the enormous horse, gives me vertigo.
“Khay, Arvi, Raduna, all good? Ready, princess?” an angry voice barks right above my ear.
Before I have time to reply, Magnar grabs my waist from behind and lifts me up into the saddle in a shocking display of strength.
I barely catch my breath, desperately holding on to the pommel when I see how far away the ground is, when he puts his leg in the stirrup and hoists himself on behind me.
When his hips touch my bum, I try to pull away, but there is nowhere to go. He grunts and puts his palm on my belly, tugging me back into him.
“Stay close. This is how the weight should be distributed.”
Cool breeze slithers over my legs, and I look down, belatedly realizing my dress rode obscenely up, uncovering Magnar’s underthings on my thighs. I get to work trying to lower the hem, but it’s impossible in this position.
“Settle, dear,” Magnar says, his voice strained. “Stop squirming!”
I freeze at the barked command, my hands gripping the green fabric bunched up around my upper thighs. A sob tears from my throat. I’ve never been so humiliated before, and I don’t even dare look up for fear of seeing the Agnidari warriors looking at my legs and the male underthings I’m wearing.
“I swear,” Magnar huffs, sounding exasperated. “What is it this time?”
“The dress,” I choke out. “It doesn’t cover me.”
“Khradgah,” he mutters under his breath, the word harsh, sounding like a curse. “You’ll be the death of me, little prize. Stay still. And better close your eyes, or you’ll panic and fall off.”
I have no capacity left for making any decisions for myself, so I squeeze my eyes shut, listening to the sounds of male shouts and the horses snorting around as Agnidari warriors prepare to ride off.
There is another sound, too—of tearing and ripping. A heartbeat later, the layers of my dress and petticoats fall down my legs, though one still feels uncovered. Behind me, Magnar settles with quick, shuffling movements that bring him unpleasantly close, until my spine tingles from his body heat.
“Ready. Open your eyes.”
I look down and release a small sigh of dismay. He’s cut a long slit into my skirt and petticoats, running from my hip down to the hem. On the one hand, one of my legs is fully covered now. On the other, one is bare, and the dress is ruined.
“I’ll get you a new one,” Magnar mutters, his arm coiling around my upper chest as he presses me to his front. The back of my hat’s brim gets squished against his torso. “I’ll get you a hundred new dresses. Just don’t cry.”
I stiffen, anger replacing my sadness over the ruined dress. “I wasn’t going to,” I hiss. “Princesses don’t cry.”
“Good. Hold on to the pommel and try to relax. And for fuck’s sake, please, do not squirm.”
I huff in annoyance. “You mind my dress, my different customs, and everything about me, and now you have a problem with the way I move. Why?”
“It’s for your own good,” he says through gritted teeth. “Or do you want to feel my hard cock against your ass? If so, squirm away.”
I freeze completely, closing my eyes and refusing to breathe for fear of humiliating myself with whimpering sounds of pure misery.
Why, oh why, would his… his organ get hard?
Desperately trying to calm myself, I think back to the books I read on the matter.
The royal library only had husbandry manuals, so my knowledge is limited to animals.
“The horse’s organ hardens and elongates, emerging from the sheath, upon meeting a fertile mare or due to manual stimulation.”
Well, I can only surmise my squirming constitutes a type of manual stimulation to Magnar. Or could it be the riding, as well? Oh, how I wish someone had spoken to me about these matters, but the few times I dared to ask, I ended up in the cellar.
Magnar says nothing more, and when a horn trumpets ahead, he urges the horse into a slow walk. We ride in formation, two dozen soldiers in front of us, then Khay, Arvi, and Raduna around Magnar and me, and the others behind.
We leave the greensward and trot onto the main road, thudding against the cobbles. The castle is up on a hill, surrounded by a park that we soon leave behind. The capital stretches ahead, humans going about their day scattering to the sides of the road when they hear our approach.
When I look up at the window of a tall townhouse, three bright-eyed children stare at me with open mouths, their noses pressed to the glass.
Surprisingly, the city doesn’t look the worse for wear.
No dead bodies are heaped on the streets, and the people I see don’t seem too frightened.
Few are out, that’s true, but I think it’s understandable after everything that happened.
Or maybe most townspeople are dead.
“How many people did you kill in the city when you marched through?” I ask Magnar as we ride down the main street, people peeking at us from upper story windows above shops and taverns.
“All of the soldiers and a handful of civilians,” Magnar replies easily. “We conquer, darling, but we do not destroy. You asked if I burned down the stables before. Why would I? Stables and horses are useful. As are people, in general.”
It seems like he’s telling the truth, and I shake my head at the lies I’ve been told.
“They slaughter every human they see and burn down their houses. They are beasts who live in tents and don’t understand the value of permanent dwellings.”
“What?” he asks, clicking his tongue to slow down the horse when we approach the city gate. It’s closed.
“No, I just… You and your methods are very different from what I expected. I was told a lot about you, but it seems little of that was true.”
Magnar huffs with amusement. “Tell me. I could use a distraction.”
I watch as the Agnidari guarding the city gate get to work opening it to let us pass. Many soldiers patrol the wall, their tall silhouettes dark against the blue sky. I am again impressed by the size of Magnar’s army.
“Well, for example, you eat rotten meat, often human, and your breath stinks of it. I suppose I haven’t seen what you dine on, but at least your mouth doesn’t reek.”
His chest vibrates against the back of my head, and I hear his quiet laughter. “Human meat? No offense, darling, but it sounds disgusting. I’d gladly eat parts of you and feed you parts of me, but that’s about it.”
I shiver, my hands clenching around the pommel. Before I get to ask what he means, the gate opens fully and we ride out. Magnar sighs.
“So much for distractions. Tell me more. Something really bad this time.”
I want to shift and squirm, Avinia’s words echoing in my head. They maim women. I don’t want to ask since it’s a shameful topic, but the fear of what will happen when we finally arrive at his keep swarms in my belly.
Truth is, I would have run if I had my horse. Without it, my chances seem dismal.
Gods. I’ll have to lie with him, won’t I?
“Iheardyoutearwomenopen.”