26. Harlow
HARLOW
I ’m relieved to be away from the heat and burning eyes of the ballroom. I can almost pretend I’m not about to get fucked by the new husband I hate in front of a room of people who hate me and my family.
I’m grateful to have a few moments of relative privacy in this little room tucked behind the ceremony space. It’s no more than a windowless space with gray stone walls, a vanity, a couple of chairs, and the soft glow of sunstones in the fireplace.
We already agreed on positions and what I’m comfortable with in the library, but I’m still tense. What if he ignores my wishes and does whatever he wants? He’s been waiting ten years to fuck my family. What better time than when he’s literally fucking me?
But Henry doesn’t seem the type. He will want to do everything exactly as I’ve given him permission to and still make me come. He wants to prove he can because he knows that would be more humiliating than anything else he could do.
Too bad for him it’s not going to work.
I slip off the silver dress, careful to keep my front facing the servant as I hand her the dress.
The last thing I need is for anyone other than Henry to know about my scars—well, I suppose other than Henry and his parents.
I have to operate under the assumption that he’s shared everything we spoke about with them.
The servant woman hangs the dress carefully and hands me the red slip I had made for this ceremony. The fine silk and delicate lace slide smoothly over my skin as I pull it into place.
I walk across the room to the looking glass next to the fireplace.
The servant steps up beside me. She’s a pretty young woman with honey-blonde hair and full pink lips and a hazy purple aura. She’s blessed by Elvodeen, Divine of Strength. I wonder if she has healing like Henry or some other type of strength magic.
“Take your hair down, miss?” she asks.
I meet her eye in the mirror’s reflection. “Do you think Henry would have a preference?”
She smiles warmly, pleased by my interest in her opinion. “I think most men of the fort like to see their wives with their hair down. We’re normally all pinned up.”
I nod, and she goes to work, plucking the flowers from the elaborate loose braid that took more than an hour to weave earlier. She unravels the plait a section at a time until my hair is free, the loose waves hanging down my back.
“What’s your name?” I ask as she grabs a roll of linen from the dresser beside us.
“Cora,” she says, holding up the roll and blushing. “This is for after—for the bleeding.”
“Oh, I won’t bleed. It’s not my first time. I was married once before?—”
“No.” Cora’s cheeks turn bright red. “I thought they’d told you. There’s a blood bind in the ceremony where you’ll cut your palm. I’m sure Henry will heal it, but you don’t want to get anything on your slip. This silk is very fine.”
“The book I read wasn’t very explicit about what a blood bind means,” I say tentatively. I don’t know if the omission of detail was intentional or not.
Cora’s eyes flit to the door and back to me.
“It’s all for Divine Kennymyra, for pleasure and vitality.
Most ceremonies involve pleasure of the flesh, which is measured in how much vitality is in the blood after.
You’ll press your palm to Kennymyra’s sigil in the headboard—there’s a sharp point at the center of it, and you just hold your bloody palm there.
If she’s pleased by your offering, it will glow golden. ”
“I see.” I don’t really see at all. Things here are much more ritualistic than I’m used to, but what’s a little blood between two enemies?
“Do you know Henry well?” I ask.
Cora flushes again and looks away. She seems a bit too shy to be his type, but someone like Henry must have lovers here. He’s attractive in the wild mountain-man way that seems to be popular, and I’ve certainly noticed the way he turns women’s heads.
“Just in passing. He’s respectful but quiet,” she says.
“Am I in competition for his affections?”
Cora smiles faintly. “I wouldn’t worry about Miriam, miss.”
I smile tightly, like I know who she’s talking about.
“His eyes follow you wherever you go.”
Yes, because he doesn’t trust me.
“Obviously we all know it’s a political marriage, but you really seem to have won him over. A lot of the women here are wondering how you did it,” Cora says. It’s as if one question uncorked all of the words inside her. “How did you do it?”
“I tried to kill him,” I say. “Sadly, it didn’t take.”
Cora freezes for a moment and then bursts into laughter.
I smile and pretend to laugh along with her as if this is a joke and not the most honest thing I’ve said since arriving at Mountain Haven.
“You have a quick wit,” Cora says. “No wonder he looks so smitten.”
A knock sounds on the door.
Cora stands a little straighter. “That means they’re ready for you.”
I nod and stand as she hands me a red silk robe that matches my slip.
Cora sweeps my hair over my shoulders and smiles brightly. “May Divine Kennymyra bless your union.”
I nod and cross the room. Gaven is waiting for me when I push open the door to the small antechamber that connects to the ceremony room. He immediately averts his gaze, placing a hand over the silver mask on his face for emphasis.
“I know you wanted me elsewhere, but I was apprehensive about being away so long,” Gaven says. He hesitates, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so uncomfortable. “It’s not as if I want to be in the room, but I think I should. What if they lock me out? ”
“Gaven, they’ve already had easier chances to kill me. If you’re in the room for this, I’ll actually want them to succeed in offing me.”
He lets out a surprised gasp that sounds like half a laugh.
I pat his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out of earshot. Consider that a command. There will be no better time to snoop around this place.”
He sighs and nods curtly, then shoves the heavy wood door to the ceremony room open for me. I step inside without hesitation.
Roughly forty masked faces turn toward me as I enter the space. The murmuring group quiets and shifts to take their places in an arch around the bed. Several men stand toward the front of the crowd, their colorful auras pressed out wide.
Though tonight’s ritual is to honor Divine Kennymyra, I know the heads of the fort’s most powerful families are the ones we really have to impress with our performance .
The room is bathed in golden candlelight from the red candles in the wall sconces.
Shadows flicker over the ceiling, making the knots in the intricate wooden beam look like ghoulish faces.
Servants flit about the room, refilling wine glasses.
There’s a door on the far end of the room that leads back to the feast. Music from the party filters in under the gap in the door.
Finally, I turn to face the bed and my new husband standing beside it.
Henry’s changed from his wedding clothes into a red silk robe that matches mine.
The top gaps open, revealing his broad, scarred chest as he holds out a hand in invitation.
When I take it, he yanks me closer and pushes my back against one of the bedposts.
He kisses me hard. I’m so shocked, I let him.
My heartbeat kicks up and I’m suddenly nervous—not about the public sex so much as the fact that I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep my composure. Whatever that blessing did—or maybe some reckless desire for oblivion—makes me want him.
Henry breaks away from my lips and kisses along my jaw, pausing at my ear. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
I don’t like feeling at his mercy. I need something—anything—to balance this dynamic between us. Henry is so tall, he looms over me. His eyes on me are heavier than the weight of the collective gazes of everyone else in the room .
“Is Miriam the woman you were trying to fuck on hunt night? Is she here tonight?” I ask.
Henry’s aura flares in surprise. “I didn’t take you for the jealous type. I know better than to bring her around my murderous wife.”
I glare at him, but I’m relieved that the comment had the desired effect. There’s a hint of annoyance in his eyes.
He moves so quickly, I can barely track him as he hooks an arm under my legs, sweeps me up, and then tosses me on the bed. I bounce once, and before I can right myself, he’s prowling over me. He unties my robe and sits back to drink me in.
Bea used to say I have a body built for fucking. My breasts are full but perky. My waist is slim but my hips are wide, and my ass is high and round from all the running.
This isn’t the first time Henry has seen me naked, but under his assessing gaze, I wonder if he prefers someone with a fuller figure, like Miriam.
“Is this red?” he whispers, drawing a finger along the lace edge of the neckline.
I nod, and he hums low, closing his eyes. I wonder if he’s trying to remember red. I try to imagine what it would be like to have a sense and then lose it.
He puts his hand on my chest, but he doesn’t cup my breast or tweak my nipple. He just presses his huge, callused hand to the soft skin, his fingers resting against the pulse point in my neck.
My heart is pounding so hard.
“I’ll keep you covered,” he whispers.
When he was kissing me, it was easy to ignore the eyes in the room, but now that he’s reminded me, I feel suffocated by their attention.
In my periphery, I only see black masks.
I’m relieved Gaven listened to me, and the anonymity of the masks makes this a little bit less uncomfortable, but not much.
I want to choke Henry for making me so aware of them. I look up at him with as much defiance as I can manage. “I’m not ashamed of my body.”
A muscle in Henry’s jaw twitches. He runs a finger down the center of my chest, then grips the top of my slip and rips it down the center, baring me to the room. The violence is so sudden and shocking, we both freeze. His hungry gaze scrapes over my skin and he licks his lips.