Chapter 16 Elaina
ELAINA
Xaren puts on a loose shirt and we go riding together, side by side, though he has to hold his huge black stallion, Death, back considerably so my placid Mirabella can keep up with him.
The Dark Prince doesn’t seem to mind, though.
He stays by my side, meeting the eye of every Noble who looks our way.
And there are plenty of looks and lots of whispering behind hands. No one can believe that the Dark Prince is out riding barely an hour after being beaten bloody. How can he bear the pain? And where is the blood? Xaren is wearing a white shirt but there are no stains on it at all.
Of course, no one else at Court knows I healed him. But did I heal him, though? Just by crying on him? How is that even possible?
Then again, what other explanation is there?
I know that Xaren can heal me using his Drake’s magic because he’s my husband.
Maybe it works both ways. It still seems strange to me, though.
I’m the least magical person I know—well, except for my hair and my eyes, but those are just my outward appearance.
I don’t feel like I have any kind of power inside me, waiting to get out. Do I?
I mull over these questions as we finish our ride and then go sit together in the Royal Gardens to read.
I have no books with me so Xaren lends me one of his.
It’s a book of Dragon Lore and I’m interested to see that he was right about there being female dragons in the past. Or at least, women with Drakes indwelling them.
According to the book, though, there are differences between a male with a Drake and a female with one.
The male will always have two separate personalities—his own and that of his Drake’s.
They are two separate beings, just as Xaren described to me.
But a woman with a Drake, has only one personality—her own consciousness which is in control in either form she takes—either human or Drake.
Also, her Drake may take years longer than a male’s to emerge.
There are pictures of female Drakes too—they are elegant creatures, long and lithe with feathered wings unlike the wings of a male Drake, which are leathery like a bat’s.
They are smaller than a male Drake too and more agile.
The book informs me that despite the size difference, the female Drake is actually more dangerous because of her agility and the fact that a female Drake’s fire burns twice as hot as a male’s.
I’m so interested in the book that I can barely drag my eyes away when Xaren reaches across the table we’ve been sitting at to tap my arm.
“Hmm?” I look up at him, my mind still on the female Drakes.
“Look at you—maybe I ought to call you my little bookworm instead of little dove.” He has an amused look on his dark face. “I didn’t know you were a scholar.”
“Not a scholar exactly—I just like to learn new things.” I’m a bit on the defensive.
It’s considered very unladylike to admit a love of learning.
Most women can barely read. But I love reading—I sat with my brother at his lessons and the tutor taught both of us.
I was only allowed to do so, however, because I promised my parents I’d never tell anyone.
No man wants a wife who might be smarter than him—that’s what my mother always said.
But Xaren doesn’t seem put off by my enjoyment of reading and learning, to the contrary, he’s looking at me in a new way. Like maybe he misjudged me somehow.
“You’ll have to tell me what you think of the book later,” he rumbles. “For now, it’s almost time for dinner and I want the two of us to be present at the table. My mother mustn’t think she’s won.”
“But she has,” I point out, as we rise to go.
“She…she’s ordered us to…to make a baby together.
” I clear my throat, feeling my cheeks heat.
“And I don’t think we dare to disobey her again.
At least I know I don’t.” I drop my voice to barely above a whisper.
“I wouldn’t put it past your mother to make me disappear if I don’t give her a grandchild soon. ”
A troubled look flits across Xaren’s dark face, but he shakes his head.
“Later for that,” he says shortly. “And when I say we can’t let her think she’s won, I mean we must not let her think she’s broken our spirits.” He lifts his head defiantly and I see his golden eye flashing. “She can’t break me—I’m fucking done with that.”
I wish I could say the same, but the truth is, I’m more scared of my Mother-in-Law than I was before, and that’s saying something.
There was something so unnerving about the cool, collected way she sat there watching her own son get whipped bloody.
And how she refused to pay the ransom for Xaren’s return, even though the Citadel is dripping in gold and I’m sure she could have afforded it many times over.
There must be something wrong with her, I conclude. She must have a dead heart. My father always said that about Executioners—he said they must have a dead heart in their chest in order to kill people for a living—for anyone with a living, beating heart could never do the work.
That’s what I think about the Queen—she has a dead, blackened husk of a heart. And what’s more, I do believe that Dorian has inherited it. How else could he accuse an innocent maid of a theft he had committed himself and then stand by and watch her lose a hand without so much as batting an eyelash?
Yes, there’s definitely a sickness in the Royal family, I think, as I follow Xaren to get dressed for dinner. The question is, has he inherited it as well?
I don’t think so—he never would have offered to take my beating if he had.
And he wouldn’t have cared about the milkmaid who was nearly raped by the stable boys.
His pain has set him apart—it’s made him bitter but it’s also kept his heart from hardening and dying like his mother’s and his brother’s.
I like him for that—for caring about the suffering of others.
Dinner is a silent affair. The Queen gives Xaren a surprised look when she sees him come to the table and then she watches us both with narrowed eyes as we eat and talk quietly, ignoring her scrutiny.
Dorian isn’t there at all—he’s allowed to skip the nightly banquet though I am not. He’s probably sulking in his room, complaining to Henri or perhaps plotting vengeance against me for exposing him in front of the Court.
The thought makes me uneasy and I have a hard time forcing down the few bites of food that I eat to keep up the facade that everything is normal.
The Nobles at the lower tables are quiet, no doubt hoping to hear a Royal fight. But when there is no such spectacle, they gradually begin to talk amongst themselves, though they keep their eyes trained on the Royal Table on its raised dais.
It occurs to me that we’re nothing but a show for them—an endless source of juicy gossip—and I’m tired of it.
I don’t want to be on display for a lot of stuck-up snobs who see me as nothing but a dancing bear to poke for their amusement.
I want to go someplace where I can act normally and eat without a roomful of people staring at me.
But that’s never going to happen unless I run away from the Citadel and where would I go if I did?
It makes me think of another passage in the Dragon Lore book that I read—all about a land beyond the Y’pryz Mountains at the far edge of the Kingdom.
A land where everyone—male and female—all has their own Drake inside. A land of Dragons.
Of course, it’s nothing but a myth, I’m sure. And even if it wasn’t, who could ever get there? The Y’pryz peaks rise thousands of feet in the air—no one has ever scaled them successfully and come back to tell the tale. It’s foolishness to even think of it, especially since I have no Drake myself.
Still, I can’t help daydreaming about getting away from Royal life—which I just don’t seem to be cut out for. Though maybe things will settle down if Xaren will just put a baby in my belly.
The thought makes my cheeks grow hot because I know I’ll be going to his rooms again after dinner is over. I must convince him to take me this time…maybe if we take things slowly.
But I keep getting mental images of him on top of me, parting my thighs… I wonder how big his male parts are? I wonder if it will hurt? One of my married sisters admitted to me that though it hurts the first time, it can feel rather nice afterwards—if the man is gentle and takes his time.
I look at the Dark Prince from the corner of my eye and wonder if he has any gentleness in him. If he would take his time with me…
The thought makes me blush again and my nipples feel tight and tender rubbing against the bodice of my dress. I feel a warmth and tenderness between my thighs, too, which causes me to press them together tightly.
Xaren catches me looking at him as the servant comes by with the dessert platter.
“That one,” he says, pointing out a delicious-looking apple dumpling pastry with golden brown crust. “And that one.” He points to a scrumptious-looking chocolate éclair.
“No, not on my plate—these are for my wife,” he directs the servant, who places both desserts on the plate in front of me.
“She has a sweet tooth,” he adds, smiling a little.
“Thank you,” I murmur, picking up the dainty golden dessert fork which would have gone unused if Xaren hadn’t ordered for me.
I’m still shy about ordering something that’s obviously fattening in front of the Queen.
Now that she knows I’m not pregnant, she’s been glaring at me again when I dare to take a slice of the rich, fatty roast or a bowl of cream soup.
“You’re welcome, little dove,” my dark husband murmurs.
“I appreciate you ordering it for me but you don’t have to watch me eat it,” I say, with a bite of éclair halfway to my mouth.
“I like to watch you enjoying yourself,” he murmurs. “And besides, you’ve been watching me all dinner. Tell me, what have you been thinking?”
My cheeks feel like they’re on fire and I suddenly have trouble swallowing the luscious bite of éclair. If he knew what I’d been thinking…
“Er, nothing,” I say quickly in a low voice. “I was just…just…” I cut my eyes towards the Queen and notice that she’s glaring at me, no doubt angry that I’m daring to eat dessert. “I’m not hungry,” I say, putting down my fork. “May we leave now?”
“As you wish, little dove.” Xaren rises and pulls out my chair, helping me up like a gentleman should. Then he takes my hand and leads me from the banqueting hall while all the Nobles watch with wide eyes and whisper behind their fans.
However, he drops my hand once we’re outside in the long marble hallway.
“There,” he says dryly. “That should give them something to talk about. ‘The Dark Prince and his lovely bride.’ It should also put my mother off the scent for a while.”
“But she can’t be put off forever,” I point out. I lower my voice and take a step closer, looking up into his face. “Xaren, you must get me with child—soon.”
I don’t know where I get the courage to speak so to him—perhaps it is self-preservation. I know without a shadow of a doubt that the Queen will have me eliminated and put another in my place if I don’t get a baby in my belly and I don’t want to die!
Xaren scowls down at me, his easy, open manner dispelled at once.
“You know why I won’t do that, little dove,” he growls. “I think you’d better go back to your own rooms now.”
“I will go—for a bath,” I say. “But then I’m going to come to your rooms and we must…must do what must be done.”
“Listen to yourself—you can’t even say it!” he growls, glaring down at me. “You can’t even admit to yourself that you’re asking the deformed prince to breed you.”
“I never said—” I begin, but he’s already turning away from me.
He leaves me standing in the middle of the corridor, his words ringing in my ears.
I feel like I’ve just lost all the progress I gained with him today—but what else am I supposed to do?
I must get pregnant even if the thought of lying under him makes me shiver with fright and… perhaps something else?
I can’t name the emotion that floods me when I picture myself naked under the Dark Prince, opening myself to him as he thrusts inside me over and over again. I only know it makes my breath come short and my nipples tight and the place between my thighs feels hot and wet and ready.
But how can I convince Xaren of that? How can I let him know that I don’t think of his as deformed or find him disgusting?
I have no answers—only questions. Slowly, I turn to go to my room. I will have Tanzy bathe me and then I’ll go down to the dungeons that Xaren calls home.
I must convince the Dark Prince to bed me or I’m certain I will be killed…but I don’t know how to convince him to take me.