8. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
A rax returns me to my chambers, and there is some reassurance, knowing he is right outside. Whether I imagined it or not, whatever that thing is in that empty room, I am relieved to know it will meet Arax and his sword before it reaches me.
I spend the rest of the day behind the closed doors, having suddenly lost interest in exploring Baev’kalath. But alone with my thoughts provides no solace. I cannot speak with the Souls and this forsaken weakness is spreading. It’s making me tired and irritable if I wasn’t already. A rumble in my stomach reminds me I haven’t eaten all day. It seems like a simple enough thing to remedy.
I roll off the bed, leaving an imprint of myself in the mattress, but I barely take two steps before the doors open and Solena and the maids enter.
“A bath, Princess,” she says. “Then we can dress you for dinner.”
I groan my disdain. “I told you. I do not need help to dress, and certainly not to bathe.”
“And I will tell you the same thing I did last night, Princess. It is us or the Blades. Your choice.”
I frown. “What is the occasion? Not another wedding, I hope?”
“Baev’kalath thrives at night and Queen Lanneth holds formal dinners every evening, whether it’s four people or four hundred and she cannot stand anything that is…”
“Soiled,” I finish. “Yes. I’ve learned that,” I say with surrender, pointing a stern finger at her. “But only I touch the sponge.”
The maids giggle into their hands and Solena nods. “As you wish. We will fill the tub.”
I sit on the edge of the bed, but I’m not waiting long before Solena signals to me from the adjoining room that my bath is ready. I can smell the same sweet herbs and flower petals that float atop the water, and after the day I’ve had, they put me at ease almost immediately. The maids remove my green dress and their jaws agape when they discover I am not wearing a corset. You’d think I had another head growing out of my back.
Solena holds up a towel when I climb into the tub, which is more courtesy than Queen Lanneth gave me, and as soon as the water hits my skin, I breathe out a long, blissful moan and sink myself to the bottom. I stay in the tub as long as I can until my fingers crinkle and the water turns tepid. When I climb out, I’m handed my black robe, and the maids follow me to my bedchamber. They present the new dress they have chosen and I hate to admit that I am already adjusting to this routine. Guards and maids. Baths and glittering gowns for midnight dinners. This dress is not as horrific as my wedding gown, but it has a plunging neckline that makes me blush even before I’ve put it on.
“You will look stunning, Princess,” Solena assures me.
The maids descend upon me, tugging the dress over my head and adjusting it meticulously until it clings perfectly to my hips. I catch the word "corset" muttered more than once, and I don’t hesitate to cut them off, announcing that it’s been tossed out the window, never to be seen again. They dust my face with pale powder, then circle my eyes with a shimmering black paint.
When I glance in the mirror, the plunging neckline of the dress highlights the delicate curve of my collarbone while revealing a generous swath of skin down to the soft swell of my cleavage. The way the fabric clings to my figure draws attention to the contours of my body. I barely recognize the woman staring back at me, draped in these extravagant clothes. What would my sisters think if they saw me like this? My eyes settle on the intricate braid the maids have twisted my hair into, and their whispered words return to me. The prince favors a braid.
Solena opens the doors as I stand from the dressing table. I turn and find Arax standing tall and stalwart, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
“Are you ready, Your Highness?”
I wriggle my toes uncomfortably and screw up my face at him. “They’re making me wear shoes.”
“That is unfortunate, Your Highness,” he replies. He bows his head. “Follow me.”
I leave my chambers and turn right as Arax leads the way. Through the arches I observe the crescent moon high in the pitch black sky, its sliver of light almost too bright to look at. The rain falls steadily and the ocean crashes fiercely against the rocks that surround the black fortress. I close my eyes for a moment, to recall the birds whistling amidst the rustling leaves, the wind whispering soft secrets in my ear, the sound of sunlight dappling upon my skin. A warmth takes hold of me, like the embrace of an old friend.
“We are here, Princess,” Arax states.
When I open my eyes, I pray the sounds linger, that the warmth does not leave me. But as I stare at the giant wooden doors of the dining room, I realize that my dreams and wishes come to nothing here. My throat tightens and I stumble forward, but Arax is quick to take me by the elbow and steady me.
“Princess. Are you alright?”
I nod as I try to settle the rhythm of my heartbeat. “Fine. I’m fine.”
He releases me, and I draw back my shoulders to strand straight. It is as if being the prince’s wife is not enough for Baev’kalath. It wants to drain the life from me as well.
Arax pushes the doors open, revealing a grand, elongated hall with stone walls covered in tapestries and high above, arched wooden beams stretch across the ceiling like the ribs of a great beast. In the center stands a long, sturdy oak table, its polished surface gleaming darkly under the dim light, and high-backed chairs with deep crimson velvet cushions surround it. Silver goblets filled with dark red wine catch the flickering candlelight while candelabras scattered across the table cast dancing shadows on the walls, and a grand chandelier hangs above, its twisted framework adorned with melting candles.
Silken black drapes billow in the howling wind that pours over the balcony, allowing the moonlight to bathe the room in an unsettling glow that makes my hosts appear as ghosts at the opposite end of the table. The king sits at the head, his narrow face and hooded eyes turned towards the queen at his side, whose deathly pale skin is almost translucent. She brushes her hand against his cheek and speaks to him, his gaze consumed with every subtle movement of her lips. The exchange is so intimate that I feel I should look away, but I can not.
“Grotesque. Isn’t it?” Daedalus whispers to my ear, and every muscle in my body tightens. He presses against my back. “Be grateful you have not had to witness them entangled beneath the Lover’s Eye, wearing nothing but moonlight.”
“What?” I gasp as his lip brushes my earlobe.
“The moon goes through different phases, and each one holds special significance for us. When it reaches its fullest, we call it the Lover’s Eye. During this time, we Mordorin celebrate with feasts, wine, and offerings of flesh. Only the king and queen are expected to take the lead in the ceremonies, but when the air is thick with the scent of carnal pleasure, it's hard not to get swept up in the festivities.”
“What are you talking about?” I snap, jerking my ear away from his mouth.
Suddenly, I feel his hand cup the back of my neck. “Are you that innocent wife?” I can hear the smirk on his lips. “They make love before the entire court, beneath the Pale Eye. We watch for a time, but it is not long before all bodies intertwine.” He exhales, and my skin prickles under his breath. “I wonder what your body would look like dressed in nothing but moonlight.”
“Son. Daughter.” Lanneth rises from her seat and beckons to us.
Daedalus steps out from behind me, and I fall under his towering shadow. He wears a black suit cut close against his toned physique, and when he adjusts the cuffs on his sleeves, I notice the silver rings on his fingers and rune tattoos on his hands.
“Come, wife,” Daedalus coughs, clearing his throat. “We must not keep the king and queen waiting.”
He reaches out and curls his hand around mine. Before I can stop myself, I glimpse up to find him looking down at me, his dark waves of hair curtaining his eyes. Even though I’ve loathed him since before I set eyes on him. Even though his kind are cruel tyrants obsessed with power. Even though I hate the way I feel when he touches me. Prince Daedalus has a beauty that I will never see rivaled by another. Even if I live a thousand years.
With my hand in his, he guides me to where the king and queen wait for us. He pulls out a chair and I sit down nervously as he takes the seat beside me, and still I can feel the warmth of his skin.
“How was your day, Amara?” King Kaelus asks, gripping the arms of his chair. I notice the soft curls in his dark hair, the same as Daedalus, and the pointed tips of their ears seem to peek through in the same part.
“I took a tour of the castle,” I reply.
“Did you?” Kaelus asks. He glances at Arax by the door, who bows his head. “Baev’kalath is old and treacherous, even to those who have lived within its walls for centuries. You should be careful where you venture.”
I'm beginning to think their warnings aren't just empty threats meant to frighten me. I've witnessed and heard things within these walls that would drive many to leap screaming from the balcony and plunge into the wild ocean below. Yet, none of it can be real. Can it?
I dare not share any of these details with them. I can't let them believe I've lost my sanity or my strength. I refuse to give them the power to control me, or worse, have them cancel our bargain because I am broken.
“I was well looked after,” I say, the strain on my face easing when I glimpse Arax.
Daedalus notices the exchange. His mouth sets into a scowl as he snatches a goblet from the table, swirling the wine within. “After what my Blades say you did on the ship, perhaps you should be Arax’s bodyguard instead of the other way around.”
The king and queen chuckle, but I find nothing amusing.
“You may go, Arax,” Daedalus says flippantly.
Arax bows and takes his leave, but I see how his face hardens and his jaw clenches as he closes the doors behind him.
“Speaking of the ship,” Lanneth starts, steepling her hands. “I did not know you possessed so much of our magic.” Her pearlescent eyes are unnerving, but not in the same way the prince’s eyes are. I study the sharp angles of her face, the points of her ears, her long slender throat, but nothing sparks of Daedalus in her features. “Who taught you?”
“The Souls of the Forest chose me when I was a child,” I reply calmly, meeting her daunting gaze. “And the Sisters of the Vine began schooling me on runes and channeling soon after.”
Queen Lanneth tips her chin towards my rune necklace. “And that is your conduit?”
I glance down. “Yes. I need it to channel.”
She gives a tight-lipped smile. “How quaint. And what do your parents think of this vocation?”
Quaint? I reply curtly. “They are dead, so do not think much at all.”
My candor takes them aback.
The king pinches his squared chin between his fingers. “I assumed Keeper Tovar was your father. He called you his Jewel.”
“Keeper Tovar is the lord and protector of The Grove and he guides the Tender Council, but no, he is not my father. He calls me Jewel because that is what the people call me. Jewel of the Tenders,” I correct.
Daedalus looks at me over the rim of his goblet. “And why are you so special that you deserve such a title, Jewel?”
My face hardens, and I stare my husband down. “I have never claimed to be more than I am, and even if I was, no one should be raised above others. There is no worth in a title unless there is worth in the wearer… Prince Daedalus.”
His eyes flicker with as much ire as intrigue. “You really are a cunning little thing, aren’t you?”
“Already bickering,” Lanneth sighs, wrapping her bony fingers around her goblet. “You know, passion is the ember that keeps the fire of marriage burning when everything else turns to ash.”
“I was always told trust is the strongest foundation of a marriage,” I blurt blankly, recalling what the crone sisters would tell the maidens after a match was made.
A deathly silence suffocates the room and the Mordorin royals narrow their eyes on me. Since everyone else is partaking of the wine, I reach for my cup, and that’s when I notice my fingers are trembling.
“How… sweet,” Queen Lanneth says with a curled lip.
King Kaelus nods with disinterest, his tongue rolling in his cheek, while Daedalus remains silent, staring into the bottom of his cup.
A flurry of activity cuts through the awkward silence when the doors fly open and a line of servants carrying silver trays enter single file. One by one they place their offerings on the long table, and when they lift the domed lids, the air floods with the aroma of roasted meats, succulent fruits and vegetables, and hearty loaves of bread.
Without saying a word, the servants stab and scoop at the morsels, piling our silver plates high with a feast fit for a small village. They leave as swiftly as they arrived, but one servant remains holding a giant jug of wine with both hands, ready to replenish our cups on command.
I study this servant curiously. Like Solena, what makes these Fae serve while others rule? Were all Fae not magical, ethereal creatures? You would think I would strive to keep my mouth shut after the trust comment, but I speak out regardless.
“What is the hierarchy of House Mordorin?”
Daedalus’ eyebrows knit together, but his gaze stays fixed to the bottom of his cup. “Why would you ask such a thing?”
“I am a Princess of the Sundered Kingdoms now, aren’t I? Shouldn’t I know these things?” I reply bluntly.
At last, his eyes lift to look upon me, and a warm shiver radiates down my spine. His lips part to speak, but before he can utter a word, Queen Lanneth loudly skewers a slice of rare beef with her fork.
“The only thing you need to concern yourself with is filling that womb with an heir as quickly as possible.” She nods towards my belly, then lifts the beef to her mouth and bites down hard, the bloody juices of the meat smearing across her lips.
My cheeks flush red, and I turn my head to look at anything but her.
She chews her food tightly, then swallows. “Especially if the rumors are true. That the newly wedded couple spent their first night as man and wife at separate ends of the castle?”
Now is the time I choose not to speak. Although I was grateful for it, it was not my decision to sleep separately. It should be Daedalus who responds to his mother.
Daedalus sprawls across his chair, a picture of nonchalance as he rolls his eyes with exaggerated impatience, making it clear that this conversation is a tedious chore for him. He leans back, arms crossed behind his head. “She was a sweaty, sickly mess. She could barely stand. She vomited all over me.”
I cringe and my shoulders shrink. Souls, I did do that, didn’t I?
Lanneth chews her food, unperturbed. “And all these things prevented the consummation of a marriage the king and I bargained at great cost?”
Daedalus looks to his father, but the king offers little support, seemingly more interested in a slice of bright yellow squash on his plate. His upper lip twitches as he snarls at his parents, then he quickly snatches my bandaged hand and holds it out on display.
“We forget that frail human bodies do not heal as ours do. Look…” He shakes my hand at the king and queen as if to prove his point, but we both spy the blood seeping through the white bandage at the same time.
I wince at the sharp pain when he closes his hand around mine and hides it under the table just as Kaelus and Lanneth lift their eyes from their meals.
“Look at what?” the queen asks.
“Nothing,” he says through a long breath. “Only that the princess failed to arouse me last night.”
He did not just say that.
My jaw clenches and a bitter rage claws at my neck. He hurls insults at me while still clutching my hand under the table, and after whispering in my ear of bodies tangled passionately in the moonlight. A sharp retort sits on the tip of my tongue, but the tense narrowing of his eyes—so at odds with the relaxed sprawl of his body in that chair—quells me into silence.
“You appear paler than when you first arrived,” Queen Lanneth remarks.
My anger lulls when I’m reminded of the queen’s intimate knowledge of my body.
“You must eat more meat,” she states.
“I do not eat meat,” I snap through grit teeth as I try to wrestle my hand from the prince’s grip, but he does not release.
“Ridiculous,” Lanneth sighs. “Fine, eat something else then.”
I yank my hand, but still Daedalus does not let go.
“I’m not hungry.”
Lanneth leans her bony elbows on the table. “I did not ask if you were hungry. I told you to eat.”
“I may be trapped in this horrible place, married to your awful cad of a son, but I and I alone will decide what goes in and out of my body!” I shoot Daedalus an ice-cold glare as I finally free myself from his grip. “In all aspects.”
Lanneth leans back in her chair, her lips straight as a line. “Very well, then. If you do not eat with us, you do not eat at all.” She nods her head at the servant, who puts down the wine jug and rounds the table to take my plate and carry it away.
“Is that really necessary, my love?” Kaelus sighs, leaning his forehead into his hand. “We cannot very well let our princess starve to death.”
Lanneth stabs a cube of beef with her fork, holds it to her mouth and clenches her teeth around the meat. She chews so slowly I can hear every slosh as it moves around her cheeks, and does not look away from me until she is done.
“Hunger is cleansing. Hunger will remind our beloved princess that she is no longer frolicking in the forest. She is in Baev’kalath. She belongs to our prince, and that despite our kindness and generosity, we, Mordorin, are the nightmare behind the void. The horror that keeps humankind on their knees. It will serve her well to remember that.”
“You do not give yourself enough credit,” I hiss under my breath. “I have not forgotten. No human has forgotten. That is why we hate you so much.”
“Brave words from someone whose home so desperately needs our protection,” the king says sternly. “Retire now to your chambers, Princess Amara, before you say something you’ll regret.”
I’ve not even begun. I can feel the tirade building at the back of my throat, ready to be spat in the arrogant faces of these miserable Fae, but I am surprised when the prince speaks before I can.
“Come, wife,” he commands.
Daedalus pushes against the table, his chair scraping the stone as he rises to his feet. He runs a hand through the hair hanging like a veil over his eyes, sweeping it back amongst the thick waves, then cocks his head to the side and looks down at me.
“You know how to make an impression, don’t you?”
He offers his hand, but he is not giving me a choice. I keep my bandaged hand close to my side, assuming that Daedalus’ efforts to keep it hidden mean he does not want the king and queen to see that it is not healing. I accept with my other hand, and he effortlessly lifts me to my feet. I meet his broad chest dressed in smooth, black silk, and I can’t help but inhale his rich, musky scent.
He leads me away, his stride slow and cavalier, as if not a single weight rested on his wide shoulders. We reach the doors and Daedalus pushes them open, but before we leave, the king calls from his seat.
“And enough of this dallying. The dawn’s first light will find you both in that bed. Do you understand me?”
I look at Daedalus’ face for his reaction and it is as sullen as I expected.
“Of course, father. There is nowhere else I would rather be.”
His words are so forced I can not imagine his parents believe him. I certainly do not. But I will take any excuse to leave that dining room. When the doors close behind us, Arax is there. He pounds his chain-mail glove against his armored chest and bows.
“My, Prince. Would you like me to escort the princess to her chambers?”
I assume the answer will be yes, but when I take a step away from him, Daed’s grip around my hand tightens, and he pulls me back to his side.
“No. You are dismissed for the night,” he replies frankly.
I imagine the bemused look on Arax’s face mirrors my own.
“My, Prince?” he questions.
Daedalus looks down at me, storm clouds swirling in his eyes. “I am all the protection my wife needs tonight.”
I pray he does not notice my throat quiver when I gulp.
“Very well, Your Highness,” Arax replies.
He glances at me, as if to ask something, but stays silent before turning on his heels and vanishing down one of the darkened halls of the castle.
I glower. “Is this the part where you fly me up into the air and we vanish in a puff of smoke?”
“And have you shower Baev’kalath in the contents of your stomach once more? No. We will walk.”
He lets go of my hand, instead looping my arm through his, as we walk side by side down the hall.
“And then what? You take me to my room, lock the door and fly out the arch?”
“And earn my father’s wrath? Not likely. Besides, he will have eyes on the sky no doubt,” Daedalus replies, looking straight ahead, the moonlight striking his face each time we pass an arch.
“Really?” I scoff. “What is the worst he could do to you?”
A single dry laugh escapes his throat. “How adorable. You mistake him for something other than a sadistic monster who has had centuries to perfect his tortures and torments.” Daedalus turns his head to me. “Do not be fooled. There is a reason he rules the Sundered Kingdoms. Over all the other Fae houses. His is a legacy written in blood.”
A chill sweeps over me, and I’m sure I’m shaking, but I will not allow Daedalus to frighten me. That is what he wants.
“So what is your plan, then?” I ask firmly. “How do you convince them you have spent the night with me? Your wife, who is neither enticing nor arousing ?”
“I will convince them of nothing,” Daedalus replies. “They will see it with their own eyes.”
He comes to an abrupt stop and I realize we stand outside my chambers already. I’m shaking again, but this time I do not have the strength to hide it. Daedalus unhooks his arm from mine and throws open the doors before strutting inside, pulling his thick, muscled arms free of his form fitting coat and tossing it on the bed.
I stare agape. “What… what are you doing?”
“Taking my wife to bed,” he replies, as if it was a completely normal thing to say. He stands at the end of the bed with a wide stance, a sly grin on his face as he pops open the buttons of his shirt. “So close the doors and come here.”
I hesitate, spinning on my heels left and right, even considering running across the balcony and leaping over the edge. I don’t acknowledge the fact I would smash into a hundred tiny, bloody pieces upon the rocks below. All I know is it would get me away from here. I realize although his rejection and repulsion of me summons a melancholy I do not understand, the thought of him actually wanting me, desiring me, touching me, is more frightening than anything else.
But Daedalus, my prince, my husband, grows impatient.
“Now, wife,” he demands.
I step inside the room and when I turn my back on him to close the doors I feel splintered, as if I have left a part of myself outside in the cold, dark hall. The only part of me with the will to resist him.