Chapter Four
“Meli!”
I bolted upright and tipped over—my head bumping against the curtained window. Hurriedly I ripped it over, and gazed out over the vast, rolling fields.
I wasn’t in Lyrica anymore. By the gnawing in my stomach and the bright, morning sun creeping over the horizon, it seemed I left Lyrica some time ago.
“No,” I whispered, throwing myself against the door. “No, no, no!”
I scratched, screamed, pounded, and kicked at the door panel. The frame didn’t bend. The handle didn’t bother to move. I was locked in, and not going anywhere.
How could this happen? Without me to stop him, Kirwan would force Meli under his thumb all to have sick, bedridden Mama under his thumb. Without them to take care of the little ones, Kirwan would ship Gisela, Jaclan, and Savia to an orphanage without sympathy or hesitation.
Just like that. One selfish princess and a beastly bastard of a king—ruined our lives forever. And to think, that morning, my biggest worry was finding a shop owner who’d let me do some sweeping for extra coin.
Sinking to the floor, I cried.
Chest-heaving, lung-shredding, hiccupping, bawling wails ripped from my throat and spread throughout the countryside.
“There, there, little bird.” I jerked when a warm hand brushed the back of my head. “Don’t cry.” His slow, steady crooning was as gentle as the fingers tangled in my hair—soothing me more than I wanted them to.
Slowly, achingly, my tears stopped falling.
“See? Much better,” he said. “No sense crying now when things are about to get much, much... worse.”
I flung back, slapping his hand away. Alisdair’s laughter filled the small, darkened space.
Pressing my back to the cushioned corner, two strange, shining eyes beheld me through the gloom.
Sometime between my abduction and waking up in the carriage, he had time to change out of his wedding robes into a casual, almost peasant-like outfit of a tunic, trousers, and simple leather boots.
His hair had been released from its confines, and fell in soft, curling waves around his ears, and horns.
I glanced at his hands, then doubled back. There was no doubt. His claws were shorter than they were the day before. Had he trimmed them? Did he do that... for me?
So it wouldn’t hurt when he mounted me—
I cut the thought off at the knees, put it in a box, set it on fire, then buried the ashes. In no reality—alternate or otherwise—would this man enter me.
“Take me back.”
Alisdair didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
“Take me back now,” I repeated, raising my voice.
Nothing.
I swallowed hard, absentmindedly tugging on the symbol of my oppression—the charm bracelet. Once, a hungry, ragged wolf wandered into the Gutter Galley and cornered me in an alley—growling and salivating for the coming meal that was me.
I’d have given anything right then to be back in that alley.
I was being assessed by another predator, and this one was more terrifying than a starving wolf would ever be.
Stop it, I snapped at myself. Stories and legends are just that. Whatever he’s done, Alisdair Shadowsoul is not invincible. He’s flesh, blood, and fae like the rest of us. A very powerful faeman, but still, just a man.
You’ve been around enough men to know what they want, and what they don’t.
Straightening, I wiped my tears on my sleeve and set my jaw. I was done crying. Crying never solved anything. The only way to get home was to go through him, and I was more than up to the task.
I cleared my throat. “You should, you know. Take me back, that is.” My tone was even. Almost cordial. “It’s in your best interest to end this sham of a marriage now.”
His only reaction was a slightly raised brow.
“Come now. Didn’t you wonder why King Salman offered his daughter and only child to his worst enemy? Did you really think it was to get you to sign that silly little peace treaty? Aww, you did, didn’t you?” I clicked my tongue, mock-pouting. “So cute.”
His brow rose higher. One thing men like Shadowsoul didn’t like—being made to seem na?ve and clueless.
“It wasn’t about you,” I went on. “It was about me. My father”—my throat burned to call him that—“knew he’d never be able to arrange a real match for me, so pawning me off to you was his last hope of getting something out of the deal.”
I took a deep, exaggerated breath and released it slow. “You see, I was born with a tragic condition. Very rare. Very real. You can learn about it yourself.”
“I am on the edge of my seat,” he drawled, startling me. Would I ever get used to his unnaturally deep, honeyed tone. “What is this condition?”
“My pussy,” I dropped, raising that brow as high as it could go. “It has teeth. Rows of them all up my walls. Very sharp.”
A strange noise came from his side of the carriage. Was he...? Was he laughing?
“It’s true.” Laughter pealed from his lips. “It is! This is no laughing matter. Any attempt to consummate the marriage will result in your cock being horribly mangled. See for yourself.” I held up my hands. “I got these cuts from my unwise attempts to play with myself.”
I revealed the many slash marks on Emiana’s fingers. They were from my escape attempt. The lone day Fiona went too long between administering the tea, and I cut myself trying to hop through a broken window.
“And of course, since nothing can go in, nothing can come out.” I had to raise my voice to be heard over him.
“That means no children. None. So, do you see? Do you see how King Salman tricked you? He saddled his enemy with a wife that will never fuck him or bear his children. You might as well take me back now because— Stop laughing!”
If anything, Shadowsoul laughed harder.
“Oh, my queen. When that odd, foolish little man”—he described the king of the most powerful fae nation in the land—“told me he had a little bird he wanted to give me, I was skeptical. Especially when all reports declared you a meek, decorative, pointless creature.”
I bristled, and he wasn’t even talking about me.
“But alas, I shall have to slaughter every one of my Lyrican spies. You are far from meek or decorative, my crude, court jester of a bride. You are what no one has been to me for a very long time.” He smiled, revealing true rows of sharpened, lethal teeth. “Entertaining.
“So, bite me, little bird. Mangle me.” His eyes flashed. “I dare you.”
The conversation had taken a strange and terrible turn. I did not understand this man. It seemed everything I did to repel him, only increased his fascination of me. What would it take to make him open the cage and let the little bird fly free?
“You needn’t be afraid of me, little queen.”
“No?” I straightened, pushing down my fear. “So all the stories weren’t true? About your cruelty? About your palace being a den of nightmares? About the things your people do to their mates on their wedding night?”
He smirked. “No. All of that is true and more, but you still needn’t be afraid because now my cruelty will defend your honor. My den of nightmares will be made into your home. And the things I do to you tonight will create their own legend. The only thing you’ll fear is that I’ll stop.”
His grin widened. “Don’t worry. I respond well to begging.”
I leaned forward, getting as close as I could stand. “Teeth or not, I will never ever lie with you. For the rest of our short marriage, your bed will be as cold as the splinter of ice where your desiccated heart used to be.”
“You will lie with me every night and twice in the mornings,” he replied, tone flat. “Our bed will slide across the floor, riding the river of your sweet, flowing juices, while I plunder your hole to the music of your ear-shattering screams for more.”
I choked, eyes bugging. What did he say? He could not have said what my cursed, ailing mind thought he said.
“Not only are these facts written in your future, but I will have you every night with your complete and willing consent. You will beg, little bird,” he hissed. “And I will be only too happy to oblige.”
I stared at him for a long time, eyes huge—heart racing to get free. Shadowsoul didn’t break. He didn’t even blink.
I whipped around. “Help!” I threw myself against the window, screaming my throat raw.
“I know you hear me up there! Let me out of here! Let me out!” My magic surged up inside of me, heeding my distress, and smashed against the internal barrier forced on my soul on the day I turned ten years of age.
It wasn’t going to help me—nothing and no one was.
“I don’t accept that,” I bit through clenched teeth. “I’m going home.”
Tearing off the curtain, I wrapped it around my fist and prepared to strike under another amused smirk.
Shadowsoul could smirk his ass right to hell. When they locked Emiana in her chambers, they didn’t think that pointless, decorative princess would throw a chair through her window and climb out of that either. I was getting back to my family. Nothing would stop me.
I descended on the glass, preparing to—
Something flew across the horizon, soaring straight at my face. I shrieked as a flash of scales and teeth roared past my vision—snatching whatever it was out of the air.
“What was that!”
“An assassination attempt, most likely.” Alisdair couldn’t have sounded more bored if he tried.
“There were many who opposed the treaty and are taking this opportunity to ambush me while I’m away from my kingdom.
It is no matter,” he said. “My guards will protect you, little bird. Most fervently from the ones who did want this peace treaty. They will not be pleased to know you’ve broken it not ten minutes after it was signed. ”
“I broke the treaty?” I gaped at him. “Oh, how terrible it is when age addles your mind and rots your memory. If you think real hard—really strain until you hurt yourself—you will find, old bird, that you broke the treaty when you threw the king of Lyrica through a wall.”