Chapter Seven
The guards came early to fetch them, dawn just breaking over the horizon to cast a faint glow across the room.
Rolan hadn’t slept much from his spot on the chair, and when he did, he’d nearly fallen sideways out of it. But he’d had worse sleeping arrangements. And if he was being honest, he’d almost enjoyed listening to Abauna sleep. She made many different sounds while slumbering, and he’d made a game of guessing what they meant.
The knock against the heavy door was a warning. They had five minutes until they’d be ushered to the temple for the proving.
Abauna rose and made her way silently to the wash basin to clean her face while he busied himself straightening his garments. He wasn’t sure how today would go. Would his bride keep her word and report favorably? Or would they be caught in their ruse and banished? Or killed?
Or worse… would he be sent back to the dungeons?
Whatever happened, he meant to face it with as much dignity as he could muster.
Abauna slipped on the outer garments she’d shed last night and turned to look in the mirror.
“My hair is a mess,” she murmured with a frown.
“You slept well.”
She glanced at him, eyes knowing. “And you must not have. Did you remain in the chair all night?”
Rolan nodded.
She looked away, her gaze returning to the mirror as she fussed with her hair—which was surprisingly unruly. Perhaps it was naturally curly and had been straightened by the attendants prior to donning the veil.
“Leave it,” he suggested. “It will appear more realistic. As if we’ve… tousled.”
She froze, but then the side of her mouth turned upward. “Tousled. Is that what the people are calling it these days?”
He felt heat rush to his cheeks. If not for his fur, she might’ve seen it too.
But the second knock on the door told them it was time.
“Come, bride. We must go.” He reached for her hand, but she didn’t allow it, instead sliding hers into the pocket of her gown. The heat in his cheeks turned even hotter as he moved to retrieve the bridal cloth instead.
Of course she didn’t want his hand. What was he thinking?
Hers was beautiful and smooth and delicate. His was rough and the texture harsh.
“Wait,” she said, stopping him just as he was about to open the door. She leaned in close, going up to her toes to reach his ear, and the sweetness of her scent enveloped him.
He didn’t know what smell it was since he’d only known the pungent ring of the dungeons and the cloying perfume of the Empress, but he found it… delightful.
Entrancing even.
“There’s a mark, above my left thigh,” she whispered, and he blinked away the fog so he could focus. “Near my… my sex.” Dear gods, why was she telling him this? “The Empress, she might expect you to know of it.”
Oh.
Of course.
He nodded, not trusting his voice, and then opened the door to meet the guards on the other side.
They were silent as they ushered Rolan and Abauna to the front of the altar where the priestess and the Empress waited. There wasn’t a sound except for the low, barely perceptible hum of the Ancients seated above. Their power filled the temple, but he wasn’t afraid of it. Not when the Empress could make his existence miserable. He only felt anger toward the Ancients for letting her go unchecked all these years.
He’d hoped this wedding was the beginning of a change.
But it seemed not.
He stopped before the priestess, Abauna standing calmly at his side. She didn’t seem as nervous as he was. Maybe she knew something he didn’t.
His stomach curled at the idea that perhaps she was working with the Empress to degrade him further.
No.
In the time it took him to blink twice, a plethora of possibilities ravaged his mind…
The ruse.
She could have set him up to bear false witness before the Ancients today so that he might be executed. It would only take her revealing the truth and the sneaky measures they took to trick them.
No, because his bride stood to be punished too.
Not if she was protected by the Empress, and this was their plan all along.
But why?
She could have been offered something in return. Something precious. A place among the court, perhaps?
Did he do wrong by not completing the union?
No.
He could never force a female to lay with him. And… he’d wanted a true wedding night. One with meaning and understanding. One that made him feel like a man instead of a monster.
If he couldn’t have that, he didn’t want it at all.
Not even with the most lovely Abauna of Trice.
“Has the union been confirmed?” the priestess asked, her voice ringing to the rafters for all to hear.
Rolan couldn’t make his voice work.
“Yes, priestess,” Abauna said, before the female turned her shrewd gaze on him.
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
She glanced upward to address the Ancients. “Let the record show a dual affirmative.” Her gaze fell back to Abauna. “Your report, bride?”
Abauna straightened her shoulders before speaking, and his stomach ate away at him while he waited to hear what she’d say. He didn’t miss how the Empress straightened on her throne, the metallic black gown she wore making a chinking sound as she moved.
“Rolan of Vegoth was a perfect gentleman. Caring and thoughtful,” Abauna said easily. “He behaved appropriately for our wedding night, ensuring that I was at peace with our situation.” She sounded… truthful. Either his bride was an excellent liar, or… “I felt very safe with him. Thank you, Empress, for choosing a fine male for me.”
His heart swelled, even though his brain tried to remind him this was just part of their agreement. The fool organ in his chest couldn’t ignore the nicest words anyone had ever spoken of him.
He stared at his bride, knowing his eyes must be giving too much away. Could the entire court see how he adored her in this moment?
He was so taken by her that he didn’t see the wicked Empress rise from her throne. Didn’t see her slink forward to stand beside the priestess. Not until she pounded her staff into the temple floor to get everyone’s attention.
Staring down at Abauna, she sneered, “You expect me to believe you enjoyed your night with the savage? Do you think me a fool?”
Something feisty passed over Abauna’s gaze but she blinked it away quickly.
“It was awkward, your majesty. As any first night surely is. But I was treated with the utmost respect and I…” She looked at Rolan, her lips curving into a semblance of a smile. “I never felt so taken care of in all my life.”
A murmur settled over the room as he tried to swallow the knot in his throat. Did his female mean these things? She said them before the entirety of the Barbarian court. How could he know for sure?
Was she merely terrified they’d be killed?
Or perhaps she was determined not to fail her own tribe.
What were her motivations?
As he turned to the wicked Empress, he recognized the look in her eye. The exact shine to her black gaze as she turned, her metal garb clanking faintly.
“Present the proof,” the priestess uttered, her voice empty of emotion.
Rolan stepped forward to place the bridal cloth on the altar and then returned to Abauna. The priestess unfolded it carefully, taking what felt like ages to examine their proof.
“Let the record show virgin blood is present,” she called upward. “As is the evidence of his spend.”
“Aye.” The collective response from the Ancients sounded almost… pleased.
But one look at the Empress and Rolan knew this wasn’t over.
Her stare bore into him, its inky tendrils seeking out the truth. She knew he wouldn’t take a female against her will, and she didn’t believe the exquisitely beautiful Abauna would give her body to him freely. Bride or not.
But they’d brought her proof. There was nothing she could do.
“Examine her,” the Empress demanded. “See that she’s been invaded. Otherwise, this proof is invalid.”
Abauna let off a sound of fear and it hit him right in the sternum. Gasps of surprise echoed from those who’d gathered of the Empress’s court, and the hum of the Ancients rose an octave.
But all Rolan felt was fury. Cold and deadly.
How dare this retched female threaten to defile his bride? How dare she do this thing that would humiliate Abauna before the people?
He wouldn’t allow it.
If it killed him, he wouldn’t.
A guard approached and Rolan stepped in front of his shaking bride.
“You will not touch her.”
The priestess walked forward, her hands tucked behind her back. “She may approach the altar and lie down of her own free will to be examined.”
“No,” Abauna whimpered. He could feel her fear like it was palpable. No doubt the Ancients could nearly feast off of it if they were so inclined.
“Why are you so afraid if you have nothing to hide?” the Empress mused.
“She will not be touched,” he repeated. “Never, understand?”
The Empress tossed out a cruel laugh.
“Ah, such a fierce defense when this could easily prove what you try so hard to convince us of.” She came to stand directly before him, her knowing gaze ripping into his, her voice going quiet as she hissed, “Did she lay with you, savage? Did she let you put your dingy, smelly piece into her precious virgin sheath? Let you defile her?”
Her words cut him. Made his throat ache with shame and his heart shrivel where it had grown under his bride’s praise.
He didn’t smell. He bathed well in the Waters of Echeron. Maybe his manhood was different than others, he couldn’t be sure. But it… functioned.
The Empress straightened, satisfaction smothering her face.
“Step aside, beast.”
He swallowed down his mortification, ignored the wrath that threatened to consume him.
“She is mine. No other, male or female, has the right to look upon her.” He turned to the Ancients for support. “It is my right alone to see her most private places. We have provided the proof. By law, nothing more is required. It should be enough.”
The room went silent.
It was not his place to speak to them directly. Only the priestess could do such.
After a significant pause… they spoke in unison. “There is a coin-sized birthmark on her upper thigh. Tell us which, right or left?”
He glanced at his bride, grateful that she remembered to tell him about this.
“The mark is on the left thigh, on the front. Close to the crease of her sex.” Did he get that correct? Was it the left thigh, or the right?
“Aye,” they said collectively.
The priestess nodded. “That is proof enough—”
“No. It isn’t,” the Empress cut in. “She will be examined or you shall both be banished.”
No.
A banishment meant almost certain death. None survived beyond the walls of the Barbarian Hold. And while he didn’t care much for his own life, he already cared deeply for his bride’s.
“You can’t do that!” Abauna cried, earning a sharp glare from the Empress.
“Seize her!”
As guards approached from each side, rage shot through Rolan until his vision blurred, and he knew this was meant to be his last day alive.
Because he would never let the Empress harm his female.
The hum of the Ancients grew louder, higher.
He turned to wrap his arms around Abauna at the same time she flung herself at him. His body was large enough to shelter her from the onslaught, and as she clung to him, he knew only one truth.
“No one will touch my bride.” He growled it loud, like the animal he was. Like the monster the Empress had made of him. “I will slaughter anyone who does.”