Chapter 31 A Leash & A Bite
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A LEASH & A BITE
Kassimir’s hand pressed against the small of my back as we approached the grand doors to the feasting hall.
Music spilled from within, harps and flutes playing a melody I recognized from relatively happier times, the sound now twisted into something obscene by context.
Beneath the music came the murmur of voices, laughter, the clink of glasses and cutlery.
The familiar sounds of court life continued as if nothing had changed, as if my father’s head hadn’t rolled across these very floors, as if my siblings’ blood hadn’t soaked into the stones beneath our feet.
I inhaled deeply, gathering what remained of my dignity around me like armor.
“Remember,” Kassimir murmured, his lips close to my ear, “it’s a performance. Play your part, and the night will end. Fight, and it becomes something else entirely.”
Before I could respond, he nodded to the guards.
They pulled the massive doors open with a synchronicity that spoke of rehearsal.
The noise within faltered, then died completely as light and warmth spilled out around us.
Kassimir’s fingers pressed more firmly against my back, propelling me forward into the sudden, terrible silence.
The great feast hall of Vareth stretched before us, its vaulted ceiling lost in shadow above the warm glow of hundreds of candles.
The long tables were arranged in a U-shape around a central space for entertainers, laden with gleaming platters of food and carafes of wine.
At the head table, elevated on a dais, sat Valen in my father’s throne-like chair, his lean form draped in his usual black and crimson, a distinct contrast to the polished wood and golden placeware before him.
And all around him, watching me with expressions ranging from shock to pity to barely concealed enjoyment, sat the nobles of Vareth—those who had survived the slaughter, those who had bent the knee to their conqueror rather than join their king in death.
Valen rose slowly from his seat, the movement drawing every eye in the room. His face displayed its perfect mask—handsome beyond mortal rights, with that preternatural stillness that betrayed his true nature. Only his eyes revealed anything, and what burned there made my stomach clench.
Hunger. Anticipation. The patient cruelty of a predator who enjoys playing with his food.
Those eyes, those depthless black eyes, fixed on me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. As Kassimir led me toward him, I watched a slow smile spread across Valen’s face. Not the quick, frightening grin of promised violence, but of something deeper. Hotter.
“My queen returns to court,” he said, his voice carrying in the hushed hall. The title was a mockery—we both knew that. “How kind of you to join us.”
I said nothing, holding his gaze as steadily as I could manage. The dungeon hadn’t broken me, and whatever performance he had planned, I would endure it.
Just as I had endured everything else.
Valen descended the two steps from the dais with deliberate slowness, never taking his eyes from mine.
As he approached, I noticed he carried something in his hands—a band of black leather, ornately tooled with silver designs that caught the candlelight.
From it dangled a silver chain, the links gleaming like water in moonlight.
A collar. A leash.
My steps faltered, but Kassimir’s grip gave me no choice but to continue forward.
Valen stopped in the center of the open floor, waiting for me to be brought before him like a gift. His eyes never left mine as I approached, his smile growing incrementally with each step I took.
We halted before him, Kassimir’s hand finally dropping away from my back. The God of Chaos stepped aside with a deferential nod, leaving me alone before Valen, before the entire court of what had once been mine.
He stood directly before me, close enough that I could smell the familiar scent of him—mountain air and metal, undercut with something darker. Something that made me think of the dungeon.
“Will you be good for me tonight, my queen?” he asked, his voice a velvet murmur meant only for me.
I stared back at him, letting my contempt show plainly on my face. My jaw clenched so tightly I could feel my teeth grinding together. The nobles watched, breath held collectively, waiting for my defiance, my outburst, my tears.
I would give them none of it.
My head moved in the barest nod, a gesture so slight it could have been missed if not for the absolute stillness of the hall. Not surrender, but a momentary concession in a war I hadn’t finished fighting.
“There,” Valen breathed, satisfaction threading through his voice like poison. “Was that so difficult?” His fingers brushed my cheek. “Such a clever girl. You’ve learned quickly.”
Inside, fury coiled.
Then, he lowered his voice, so low and quiet it was barely audible. “Kneel for your king, Mireille.”
The words slithered through me like ice.
My pride, the last tattered remains of it, screamed in rebellion.
For a moment, I considered refusing… forcing him to physically compel me, taking the choice of surrender from me.
But Kassimir’s warning echoed in my mind. Play your part, and the night will end.
Slowly, feeling every eye in the hall upon me, I sank to my knees before him. The marble floor was cold through the thin silk of my gown. I kept my back straight, my chin lifted, refusing to bow my head even in this position of subservience.
Valen’s smile deepened, satisfaction evident in the slight relaxation of his shoulders.
He held the collar before me, letting me see it clearly now.
Black leather lined with crimson silk, the silver fittings engraved with strange symbols.
The leash attached to a ring at the front, the leather braided into a complex pattern.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, his voice pitched to carry now.
“Crafted by the finest leatherworker in my domain, specifically for you. The silver is mixed with an alloy from the mountains of my homeland. Unbreakable once sealed.” His fingers caressed the leather almost lovingly. “I had it made before we were wed.”
Specifically for me. Unbreakable once sealed.
A ripple of murmurs passed through the watching crowd—some amused, others uncomfortable. I remained silent, my eyes never leaving his face.
“You see,” he continued, addressing the room now, “my people and I, we believe in marking what belongs to us.
And make no mistake—“ his gaze swept the room before returning to me, “—the former princess of Vareth belongs to me. By right of conquest, by right of marriage, and by right of the blood spilled to claim her.”
He stepped behind me then, his movements unhurried.
I felt his fingers at the nape of my neck, brushing aside the intricate braid Kassimir had fashioned.
The leather was cool against my throat as he positioned the collar, sliding it into place with slow precision.
The silk lining whispered against my skin, a perverse luxury that only emphasized the collar’s true purpose.
There was a faint click as he fastened it, the metal somehow molding itself closed without visible seam or lock, similar to the manacles in my cell.
He tugged lightly, testing its security, the action pulling me slightly off-balance.
Not tight enough to choke, but snug enough that I would never forget its presence.
“Rise,” he commanded, loud enough for all to hear. As I struggled to my feet, hampered by the clinging silk and his grip on the leash, several Nocthar and Vareth nobles laughed appreciatively. The sound burned in my ears, stoking embers of rage I’d thought extinguished after my time below ground.
Valen’s hand settled at the small of my back, the same spot Kassimir had touched earlier, but with a possessiveness that branded me through the thin fabric. He led me up the steps to the head table, the leash draped casually over his wrist, each step measured to demonstrate his complete control.
Instead of guiding me to a chair, he indicated the cushion beside his seat with a small gesture. “Your place,” he said simply.
My head jerked toward him, eyes narrowing into silver daggers as I met his gaze. The chain clinked softly with the movement, drawing another ripple of laughter from the watching nobles. My nostrils flared slightly as I drew in a controlled breath.
“A cushion?” I whispered, voice low enough that only he could hear. “You truly wish to make your point with such... predictable theatrics?”
Something dangerous flashed in his eyes—a flicker of genuine anger through the perfect mask. For a heartbeat, I thought I’d pushed too far.
Then his lips curved upward, a smile that held no humor, only the promise of pain. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he tugged the leash—not hard enough to hurt, but with enough force to make me sway forward, the collar pressing against my throat.
“Sit,” he commanded, the single word carrying the strength of all the power he held over me.
For a heartbeat that stretched like eternity, I stared into those black depths, letting a flash of my true feelings reflect in my gaze.
I would not break.
I remained standing for another heartbeat, letting the silence stretch thin as a blade. Every person in that hall watched with bated breath, waiting to see the last daughter of Vareth crumble before their eyes.
Instead, I lowered myself onto the cushion with as much grace as I could summon, arranging the silk of my gown around me like liquid darkness. The position placed me at Valen’s feet, below the table, below everyone—a living ornament to his conquest.