10. The Stolen Bride
Wrapped in his arms, he carried me inland, away from the ocean shore and the crowds who had gathered to see their king arrive with his new bride. They were probably wondering the same thing I was—why was I here? Why did he choose me?
Somewhere at our feet, I heard a faint whisper. ”Welcome.”
I looked down and spotted an enormous sea turtle, half buried in the sand and hidden among the tall oat grass. I started to incline my head in thanks, but then I noticed the blood dripping from its lips. I quickly averted my eyes.
My groom carried me onward until the sand turned to soil. Soon, ancient oak trees canopied above us, arching into a pathway. They were like ours at home but larger and more gnarled. How many thousands of years had these trees seen? How deep were their roots?
The trees were aglow with mesmerizing orbs of light. They weren’t the lightning bugs I was used to. I felt I shouldn’t look at them, but I also couldn’t seem to stop. For once, I was grateful to be carried. I didn’t trust my own feet.
Ahead, a magnificent castle loomed on the horizon. It appeared as if it had been wrought from the very elements themselves—sand, shell, and ocean spray. The effect was breathtaking and otherworldly. It was nothing like our homes, even my own palatial one.
”What do you think?” he asked.
I tried not to let my wonder show. I shrugged and said, ”It looks like a dribbled sand castle. A naughty child might kick it over.”
He gave me a sliver of a smile that didn’t meet his eyes. ”It will take more than a mortal child to fell this palace.”
I was taken aback by the warning in his tone.
He bridal carried me down a long, empty hallway until we finally reached a colossal set of doors. Through my thin, wet garment, his strong arms seared his natural body heat into my skin and warmed my chilled bones.
As he turned the door knob, my heart beat faster. I knew what I had promised him. I was a stolen bride. Did this count as our wedding night? Did the fae even hold formal ceremonies?
For just a moment, I dared to look up into his eyes.
He gazed back, and my breath hitched.
I imagined what was going to happen next. He would wrap his arms around me, unencumbered by watchful eyes, and drag me to his bedroom. There, my wet shift would hit the floor followed by his handsome cloak. I would run my hands along his strong muscular biceps and chest. He would bring his delicious, sinful mouth to my bare shoulder and languidly work his way up to my neck.
My overactive imagination came to a screeching halt as I was roughly deposited on the floor. I was so surprised I slipped in a puddle made from the water of my own dripping, wet shift.
Of course, he didn’t apologize.
I looked up at him in annoyance and found his appearance had changed. His brilliant facade was fading—his skin had turned a sickly, pale green, and his limbs drooped with exhaustion.
He didn’t even bother to look at me as he muttered, ”Take whichever room you like.”
Without another word, he entered a nearby doorway and flopped down on a majestic king sized bed. Then, with a wave of his hand, the door magically closed behind him.
I should have been relieved, part of me certainly was, but there was another part that was astounded. How dare he drag me through mortal peril, then just slam the door in my face? Was he so tired from the journey? Was this the true man behind the powerful exterior?
With him gone, I could begin searching for my sister immediately. I started a few paces toward the doors but stopped. My legs were shaking like a newborn calf and without his glamour, I was cold. I was also nearly naked and wearing a soaking wet garment.
No, I wasn’t ready to search the castle. Not in this state.
Tomorrow, I promised.