Chapter Five
Rolan stared down at his bride, shaken to his core. She was trembling like the gongs from the temple after being rang. He knew what people thought of him. Or at least, he thought he did. But maybe it was worse than he assumed because his female looked like she’d been given to the devil himself.
“I didn’t mean to… to dishonor you when the veil was lifted.” Her voice was measured, as if she was trying to compose herself. “It was only that you weren’t what I was expecting.”
“You are not what I expected either, female.”
She sipped her water before asking, “How so?”
“I was told you were suited for me, so I assumed…” He let the rest of the sentence hang in the tense air.
“You thought I would be… flawed?”
He nodded. “I thought you were an outcast, afraid to be given to a normal man, and that’s why I tried to comfort you. It’s why I stood proudly as you removed my veil. To show you that you weren’t alone in your differences.” He turned away, not wanting her to know any more of what he’d felt in those moments.
Silence bled between them, turning the air murky.
“I was afraid to be given to a normal man,” she admitted eventually. “I’m not well thought of in the tribe. Many do not like me. An outcast of a different sort, you might say. I was afraid my groom would be disappointed being paired with me.”
He gazed at her over his shoulder. “Disappointed?” He couldn’t imagine anyone except him being disappointed in a bride like her. She was breathtaking. The kind of beauty that hurt a bastard like him to look upon. ”Why would a normal man be disappointed? You are quite beautiful.”
A small, sad smile formed on her lips. “You seem to think that beauty makes one accepted. Gives one a better life perhaps. It isn’t so.”
Interesting. Surely his bride had been better off than he had. Surely she hadn’t been locked in a dungeon and used as a thing to laugh at, to poke at, to toy with.
“I can assure you the opposite is not the way to happiness and acceptance either.”
She gave him a thoughtful nod. “Maybe only the mediocre find happiness,” she whispered.
“Maybe.”
He lowered his head, trying to hide his grief. How would he mate her? There was still a confirmation to perform, but he couldn’t force himself on her. Wouldn’t. And he didn’t expect her to come with him willingly. Not after her reaction at the altar and whatever this was.
“The Empress will require our proof by morning.” He pushed the words through his strangled throat.
His bride’s responding gulp was audible in the quiet of the bedding room. “I-I have been trained… in the ways of…”
He couldn’t do it.
The dread in her voice was so plain it left new cuts in his tattered heart.
“Should I… undress?” she asked.
He closed his eyes, vying for strength. Yes, his mind whispered, but the tremble in her voice left his gut clenching with panic. His beautiful bride naked before him? He would be lost. He would hurt her.
He would hurt himself. Inside, where his emotions were torrential with the Empress’s cruelty.
“No,” he rushed out. “I won’t require it of you.”
There was silence while his mind grappled with what to do. If they didn’t present their proof to the Empress by morning, they would both be banished. Or worse, killed for breaking the law. He would carry more shame, and so would Abauna, for not finishing the ceremony.
“Will we confirm with our clothes on?” his bride asked quietly.
He shook his head, finally turning to look at her. “We will fake our union.”
She shook her head. “But the proof—”
“The Empress will have her proof.”
Abauna stared at him with her big #silver eyes. “How?”
He lifted the bridal cloth from where it lay on the broad bed. “I will need a little of your blood.”
“And… the rest?”
Yes, more than her virginal blood was required for proof. And it would humiliate him even more to produce it, but it was necessary if they were to convince the Empress their union was confirmed.
“I will provide it,” Rolan promised.
Abauna shook her head, a frown marring her features. “Why would you do this? It’s your right to have me tonight. And my duty to come with you.”
His right? She spoke of him like he was any other man but she looked at him like he was a monster. Worse, she expected him to be.
“I don’t wish to mate with a female who doesn’t want me.”
She opened her mouth to object, but he stopped her.
“I frighten you. Or worse, I disgust you. Either way, I will not require you to lay with me.”
The relief in her expression was enough to shatter him, but he was long used to the feeling.
“I only ask one thing of you,” he added, and her guarded look let him know she wasn’t surprised he would want something in return. “In the morning, when the Empress questions you, I…” The words caught in his throat. It was a lot to ask, but he needed this. If he was going to do what had to be done, she had to agree to this. “I ask that you speak of me kindly. That you don’t complain about being given to me. That you report favorably.”
Seconds ticked by as she stayed silent. His heart raced, waiting for her answer. The Empress would delight in a bad report. In fact, she expected one, no doubt. It was probably the single moment in this whole game that she was most anticipating. Tales of his inadequacy. The ultimate injury.
Abauna nodded her agreement. “Your request is fair, beast.”
Rolan could only hope she kept her word. If she didn’t… well, he couldn’t think of that right now.
He held the bridal cloth out to her. “Your blood. You will need to draw it from an inconspicuous area. Somewhere she won’t think to inspect. Under your arm perhaps.”
“Do you have a dagger?”
“No.” He looked around the room. “We’ll break a glass to use.”
His bride nodded, the dread returning to her features.
Rolan cracked one of the crystal wine goblets against the stone where the fire roared, and pulled away a shard long enough to use. Carefully, he wrapped the end in a piece of his tunic and returned to Abauna.
“Lower your covering,” he instructed. After a moment of hesitation, she released the clasp holding her silver gown in place and the fabric tumbled down until she grasped it to her chest at the last minute to keep her modesty. “I will make this as easy as possible.”
His eyes swept over the part of herself she had bared. Her skin was creamy and flawless. Probably soft as silk to the touch. She was exquisite. Far beyond anything he could’ve imagined.
Rolan swallowed hard. “Lift your arm.”
Thankfully she obeyed.
With a quick move, he nicked the crease of her underarm. She hissed at the pain but was otherwise silent as he carefully pressed the bridal cloth to the pooling blood to collect their evidence.
“There,” he said, when the bleeding had stopped. “It is enough.”
He turned away as she fastened her gown.
“Now, I will produce the rest…” How would he make himself come with her right there, listening? There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide while he shamed himself for this ruse.
Was this what the Empress had intended all along? His complete and utter embarrassment before his female? More proof that he was unworthy of dignity?
Well, she would have what she desired.
New anger filled him as he thrust his hand beneath his trousers to grab his cock in a punishing grip.
This was supposed to be his wedding night. He was supposed to be slowly loving his bride’s body—a body suited to his own. It was supposed to be a sweet, careful new beginning. One that would atone for all the wrongs done to him in the past.
Instead, it was more cruelty. More hate. More of everything he’d endured for so long.
Would he ever be free of the Empress?
He pushed away any happy thoughts of his future with Abauna of Trice, and thought only of his anger. His feelings toward the Empress were enough to keep him hard, and if he was lucky—by the mercy of the Ancients—he would find his release quickly.