Chapter 7 The Blood Wedding #3
I met his gaze even as my pulse quickened.
He was beautiful in a way I’d never allow myself to admit.
A dark god fallen from some violent realm to claim what he deemed his own.
As we spun beneath the hovering silence, I wondered if I could play my own game…
Let myself want him. Let myself desire him just enough to keep him satisfied, while I maneuvered the pieces to my own advantage.
That may be the true danger to this surrender. Not that I would lose, but that I might start to enjoy playing.
The thought should have alarmed me more than it did. Was this how it began? A slow erosion of self, chipped away by the thrill of matching wits and wills with a man who thrived on conquest?
“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight?” Valen’s voice was smooth as silk, brushing against the tension that hung between us. He leaned closer, the warmth of his breath ghosting across my cheek, igniting an unwelcome flutter in my chest. “Your gown suits you beautifully.”
I forced a haughty smile, unwilling to reveal how his compliment stirred something dangerous within me. “Flattery won’t win you any favors here, Valen. I am hardly impressed by any attempts at charm.”
“Ah, but it is charming, is it not?” His lips curled into a smirk that set my heart racing. “And if it befits my queen to hear praise on her wedding day, then who am I to deprive her of such a pleasure?”
I arched an eyebrow at him, refusing to let his playful tone disarm me. “Pleasure is hardly what one feels when they are bound to a bloodthirsty king.”
Valen chuckled softly as we twirled, his movements confident and fluid. “Oh, but that’s where you’re mistaken, wife.” He lowered his voice further, almost conspiratorially. “There are countless ways I can make you feel pleasure while bound.”
I tried to muster a dismissive laugh, but it caught in my throat, replaced by a warmth that spread across my skin like wildfire.
I was not prepared for the way his words ignited an unexpected coil of heat, nor how alluring his playful confidence could be.
“I see you are arrogant as well as bloodthirsty,” I retorted, though the slight tremor in my voice betrayed my attempt at bravado.
Valen’s lips curled further, the smirk transforming into a full-fledged grin that illuminated his features with a disarming charm.
“One must possess certain qualities to rule as I do. Arrogance is merely confidence wearing its finest attire,” he replied smoothly.
“And who better than my wife to appreciate it? Soon you’ll grow accustomed to my many talents. ”
I rolled my eyes dramatically, though beneath the pretense of disdain, I felt heat creeping up my neck and settling into my cheeks. “You certainly have a talent for self-aggrandizement.”
“Is that not the mark of a true king?” He drew me closer, the fabric of my gown brushing between his legs, creating a sensation that made me acutely aware of everything.
Every flicker of his breath against my skin, every glimmer of mischief in his dark eyes.
“Besides, if you find my charms overwhelming now, just wait until we are alone.” His voice dropped to a nefarious whisper that sent shivers coiling down my spine.
“Do you always proclaim your intentions so boldly?” I shot back, fighting to keep the teasing tone from cracking under the force of his gaze. “Or is being insufferable part of your charm?”
Valen laughed, the sound low and sultry, sending a tremor through me that I desperately tried to stifle.
“You will find, dear wife, that I am nothing if not forthright.” His dark eyes flashed with an intensity that ignited a flicker of something in my core.
Whether it was fear, desire, or both, I could not tell.
“And as for insufferable... well, perhaps I only reserve that for special occasions.”
“Such as your wedding day?” I asked, unable to suppress my smile any longer.
He leaned closer as we twirled again. “Precisely. You see how much care I’ve taken today? A lavish wedding requires an equally grand performance from both sides.”
“I might remind you that this isn’t quite the celebration most brides envision.”
“But there lies the beauty… the unexpected makes for a far more interesting tale,” he said with an arch of his brow. “What better story can be told than that of Vareth’s bastard princess captured in a web of intrigue by her dark and mysterious husband?”
I couldn’t help it. I found myself laughing—a genuine sound that danced above the din of murmured conversations around us. “You think yourself dark and mysterious?”
“Am I not?” he asked innocently, acting as if he were genuinely unaware of how others perceived him.
“You’re certainly something.” The challenge was bold on my lips—inviting and biting—and I relished it as his expression shifted subtly at my words.
“You flatter me, wife,” he replied, his grin turning lazy. “But tell me, what do the good people of Vareth truly say about me? Surely you’ve heard whispers.”
I raised an eyebrow at the sudden shift in tone, noting how the lighthearted banter had been replaced by a more serious undertone. It was as though he sought to peel back the layers of my thoughts, eager to dissect the opinions that swirled around him like shadows.
“Whispers,” I echoed, leaning back slightly as we spun once more, determined not to let him see how much his question stirred something within me. “Should you not ask your own courtiers, the ones who seem enamored with your reputation?”
“But they dare not speak as freely as you,” he mused, a playful lilt to his voice returning as he tightened his grip on my waist. “Not with my presence so keenly felt. No, only your delicate lips have the freedom to share brutal truths.”
My eyes widened. Was that a compliment to my lips from the Butcher?
I realized he still waited on an answer, and I tried to focus on a political response. We were entering perilous ground, but I could hardly turn away from this particular dance.
“They say many things,” I began slowly, searching his gaze for any flicker of reaction. “That you leave destruction in your wake. That you—“ I hesitated, then decided actual truth might serve me better than half-lies. “That you bathe in the blood of virgins to maintain your youth.”
Valen’s eyebrows arched slightly, amusement simmering just beneath the surface. “And do you believe these tales, wife?”
“I believe there is often truth at the heart of even the most outlandish rumors,” I replied carefully. “Though details may be distorted in the telling.”
“Wise,” he acknowledged, executing a turn that brought his lips close to my ear. “And in this case, entirely accurate. I prefer the blood of my enemies to that of virgins. It carries more power, you see.”
I couldn’t suppress this shudder that passed through me at his words, spoken with such casual certainty that I knew, without doubt, he was telling the truth. This man before me—king, conqueror, and now, my husband—was a creature whose literal thirst for blood sent tremors through my resolve.
“Does that frighten you?” he asked, reading my reaction with unsettling accuracy.
“Should it?” I murmured, meeting his gaze, refusing to let him see how much he affected me.
Something flickered in those black depths… approval, maybe anticipation. “Yes, sparrow. You should fear me greatly.”
The music began to fade, signaling the end of our dance, but neither of us stepped away.
“And yet,” I replied softly, “I find that I do not.”
It was a lie, of course. Fear now coursed through me like ice water, sharp and clarifying. But in that moment, with his body against mine and his eyes searching my face for weakness, I understood that showing fear would be tantamount to surrender. And I would never fully surrender.
Not to this man.
Not to this fate.
A dangerous glint flashed in his eyes, a predator’s recognition of unexpected resistance. His fingers tightened fractionally at my waist as the final notes of the music drifted in the air between us, stretching the moment beyond comfort.
Valen’s hold on me loosened, his gaze searching mine with an intensity that seemed to pierce through flesh and bone.
“These mortal customs have begun to bore me. Shall we retire?” he asked, his voice a velvet whisper in the sudden quiet.
I pulled back slightly, confused by his odd terminology and lack of propriety.
It almost drew another laugh from my lips.
“Do you not think a speech is in order?” I stalled, letting my eyes flicker to where our audience awaited our next move.
The nobles of Vareth and Nocthar alike watched with bated breath, eager for the unfolding drama of this union.
A shadow of amusement crossed his features. “Yes, I suppose it is expected,” he said with a mock sigh. His grip on my hand tightened, pulling me toward the dais.
He held the attention of the entire court as he began to speak, his voice cutting through the din with the casual confidence of a god addressing his worshippers.
“Lords and ladies,” he droned, almost lazily, casting a sweeping glance over the assembled courtiers. “Tonight marks the beginning of a monumental union, one long awaited by both our kingdoms.”
There was a stirring in the crowd at his words, a murmur that rippled outward like water in a pond. Faces turned toward each other as alliances were silently recalculated, futures weighed and measured.
Valen continued, his tone commanding attention with every word.
“Some may have doubted this day would come,” he said, allowing a pause for effect.
“But doubt is for those who lack vision.” His gaze swept over them, and I could see the unease creeping in among the Varethians.
“Tonight, we prove that power must be claimed, not inherited. We lay the foundations for a new order, one that will echo throughout history.”
The murmur grew louder, a seething undercurrent of speculation and surprise. I felt my father’s eyes on me now, a weight I had long grown accustomed to. Valen maintained his hold on my hand, almost as if he dared anyone to question his claim.
“We stand at the threshold of a new era,” Valen declared, the room falling silent once more. “An era where Vareth and Nocthar are bound not by war, but by marriage. By blood. A bond stronger than any blade or treaty.”
He turned to me then, drawing me closer with a possessive certainty that left no room for doubt.
“And this alliance would not have been possible without my bride,” he said softly, though his words carried easily to every corner of the hall.
My breath caught in my throat as his gaze held mine so intently.
“A woman who has enchanted me so completely.”
He paused, studying my reaction, seeing how my breath came faster, how I knew my pupils had enlarged.
He then lifted his glass to the crowd. “To Nocthar’s future queen,” his voice louder, “And to what we will accomplish together.”
The nobles erupted into applause, a cacophony of approval and acquiescence drowning out any dissenting voices. No one had ever given a toast to me, and I was completely, utterly, unmoored by it, even knowing it was expected.
Valen’s lips brushed my knuckles in a mockery of gallantry before leading me from the dais. My heart thundered in my chest. Not from fear or reluctance, but from something far more dangerous.
Desire.