Chapter 8 Elaina
ELAINA
That night, after Tanzy fusses over my hair and I dress in the white lace gown and my silk robe, I slip out into the hallway.
My maid thinks I’m going to Prince Dorian’s rooms again.
Apparently it’s not unheard of for Royal couples to spend days apart and only get together when the prince wants to bed his princess.
I don’t dare to tell her where I’m really going…I can barely stand to think about it myself. Despite the airy gown and thin robe, I feel hot all over. Well, except my hands and feet—they feel like blocks of ice. I can’t believe I’m doing this—I really can’t.
However, once Tanzy waves me off and I get out into the stone corridor, I realize I have no idea where I’m going.
I don’t know where Xaren’s rooms are—I don’t even know which part of the Citadel he stays in.
The King and Queen have their quarters in the front of the huge, grand stone castle and Prince Dorian’s rooms are just a few doors down from mine—in the East Wing. But where is Prince Xaren?
I’m looking around, feeling a mixture of panic and confusion when a male servant glides up to me.
“The Queen sent me,” he says in a low voice. “I’m to take you to the Dark Prince. Follow me.”
There’s really nothing else I can do. I follow in his wake, my soft slippers making almost no noise at all. The servant is quiet too. He glides silently ahead of me and when a squadron of guards passes, marching in formation, he draws me into a side corridor until they pass.
The secrecy makes me wonder if what I’m doing is really so acceptable as the Queen tried to make me believe. Would it be a great scandal if the Court found out I was sleeping with the brother of my husband? Except, according to her, Xaren is my husband too. So then, why the secrecy?
I have no answers—only a stomach full of nervous butterflies fluttering ceaselessly.
The sensation gets worse as the servant leads me all the way over to the West Wing—the farthest end of the Citadel.
And then we come to the entrance to the West tower—the tallest and most remote spot in the entire castle.
“Through here,” the servant murmurs. I expect him to lead me up the spiraling stairs…instead, he points down…down into a pit of darkness.
“He…he stays in the dungeon?” I ask, my voice coming out in a dry croak.
“The Dark Prince makes his home in darkness—as befits his mood,” is the servant’s cryptic reply. “You must descend the stairs until you reach the wooden door bound in silver. Push it open and you will find his chambers.”
“But…but what if it’s locked?” I squeak, my voice going high with fright.
The servant shakes his head.
“He has no need to lock his door.”
“What? Why not?” I demand.
He shrugs.
“Because no one dares to visit him. Even we servants keep our distance—the maids go in but once a day, when he’s out riding, to tidy his room and change his sheets. Other than that, he’s left strictly alone. He likes his privacy and punishes those who disturb it.”
Wonderful—and now I’m supposed to go bother him.
“But—” I begin.
The servant shakes his head.
“I shall remain here at the entrance to the Dark Prince’s rooms all night at the Queen’s behest. I am to let her know if you refuse to do your duty and lay with the prince. If you come out before morning, I’m to go and tell her at once.”
I see no pity in his eyes—only the mindless loyalty the Queen seems to inspire in her closest servants. I am not being given a choice—I must go. I must descend those black stairs alone and pray that the Dark Prince doesn’t choose to punish me for disturbing his privacy.
But even if he doesn’t punish me, he’s going to take me. Or maybe he’ll do both. I’ve heard of men who bed their wives roughly and then beat them after, just because they can. Will he do that to me? Will he hurt me?
It’s going to hurt one way or another, I tell myself grimly. The first time always hurts. Get over it and get down there before the servant reports you to the Queen!
Taking a deep breath, I duck into the tower entrance and begin descending the winding stairs. I have no idea how the Dark Prince will greet me, but I know I must give myself to him on pain of death.
Whether he wants me or not.