48. Princess Esemeray
PRINCESS ESEMERAY
The wards lay heavy against Esemeray’s skin, even her power seemed to recoil once they entered the temple gates. She exhaled a calming breath, knowing she could hide her identity without losing control. After the incident with Killian, her mother’s words had made sense—she was an abomination.
Esemeray frowned. She felt as if she were back at home getting pampered by Aria all over again, except, strangely, the two women assigned to her room stripped her bare and bathed her without saying a single word.
Esemeray tried not to make a sound as they combed through her soaked hair, yanking at the knots one by one. She kept her features neutral, doing her best to ignore the burning pain as the brush caught with each pull.
Ouch… Ouch. Ouch!
A cool breeze brushed her nipples, while they buzzed around her, as if this was normal. Esemeray eyed the sky-blue robe resting beside her, tempted to reach for it, but she made no move. She set her gaze on the veiled women in the mirror and got caught in their eyes.
They exchanged hushed words in a language she had never heard before. While she couldn’t understand what was being said, she could listen to them talk all day.
Esemeray pulled her gaze away and stared at herself, almost gasping at her puffy eyes and reddened skin.
I look terrifying.
She sighed, wondering where Riggs was, her heart still heavy after seeing Izara and Riggs embrace. One look at those piercing eyes and she knew they were the same eyes from Riggs' sketchbook.
Izzy—if looks could kill.
Her heart plunged into her stomach. Who is she to Riggs?
The taller woman stroked Esemeray’s cheek and tilted her head, staring at Esemeray as if she were keys on a piano.
A look only a pianist made before striking.
Her slender fingers reached for what looked like blush on the metal vanity, and she gently dipped her fingers in the pink tin, brushing her fingertips across Esemeray’s face.
Esemeray closed her eyes and allowed them to paint her face as Aria always did.
Keeping her chin lifted, Esemeray followed the women down the brightly lit halls of the temple, her curly hair bouncing with each step toward the dining hall.
Every corner was carefully crafted with delicate paintings and statues.
Esemeray’s head angled, the hair on her neck rising.
She could have sworn one of the paintings moved.
Just my imagination. She quickened her steps, careful not to look into the eyes of the animals painted on canvas.
She grumbled, adjusting the veil over her face. At least it matched my sky-blue robes. She supposed it was pretty despite feeling restricted.
Her heart skipped when she locked eyes with Riggs already sitting at the end of the table wearing a white robe. The same as the rest of the men. She almost smiled, but Izara’s hand brushing against his made her stomach churn.
Riggs stood, his chair screeched loudly across the marble floors, all heads turning in his direction. His eyes were full of uncertainty. “Sophie, I saved you a seat next to me.”
“Oh, my love, Sophie is assigned by Killian and Oliver.”
My love? Esemeray swallowed hard, her eyes falling to the floor. She gasped for air, her stomach twisting into a knot.
“Sophie,” Izara purred.
Esemeray looked up, trembling.
Izara’s slender finger pointed at Killian. “Over there, sweetie.” Izara stood out like a rose among thorns. The white crown sitting atop her curly silver hair added to her regal air, letting her shine like a thousand stars.
Riggs' features softened as he sat back down. Smiling toward Izara, he bowed his head. “I forgot; please forgive my manners.”
Unable to stomach anymore, Esemeray turned toward Killian who had his hands interlaced in his lap while he spoke to Oliver.
Esemeray took her seat and focused on Killian’s voice while she calmed herself.
“You look good,” Killian said, scanning her.
“Thank you.” She blushed. “It surprises me to hear you speak the Rhabari tongue so fluently.”
Killian raised his brow. “My father made sure Riggs and I knew how to communicate with our biggest account.” He shrugged a single shoulder. “Part of the job.”
“You are very well-spoken,” Esemeray stated, trying to keep the conversation flowing. She needed a distraction, but every delicate laugh coming from Izara’s mouth made it hard.
“Are you okay?” Killian asked, his hand inching on the table, his fingers curling inward.
“Yes, why?” She lied. Other than the growing pit in her stomach, and her drumming heart, she was as well as she could be.
“You seem tired.”
She wanted to tell him the truth but the way Oliver peered over, watching them, she held her tongue. “Yes, very tired.”
“Sophie, tell me about yourself.” Oliver’s golden-blue eyes glistened beneath the chandelier.
Esemeray gulped, fidgeting with her nails under the table, she blurted, “I am the cousin.”
Oliver laughed, his braided black hair draping past his shoulders. “Yes, we established that.” He leaned over the table. “I want to know more. Tell me about yourself.” His words were a soft whisper. Seductive in their cadence.
She smiled oddly. “I farm.”
Killian squinted, fighting to keep his face neutral.
“You farm? Like sheep?” Oliver’s lips curved in an enlightening smile.
“Vegetables actually.” Esemeray panicked, her heart leaping into her throat. She glanced to Riggs, wishing she didn’t. Izara was twirling her fingers over his hands, stroking him.
And he let her.
Her throat stung from the rising bile, meeting Oliver’s stare, she swallowed it down. “You know, like carrots.”
“Carrots?” he questioned, tilting his head.
Killian chuckled as he met Esemeray’s gaze. “Sophie, how about some wine?”
Breathing deeply, she sank into her chair, and said, “I’d love some.”
Oliver threw her a grin, scooting his chair closer to her. “I will get you some wine. Do you like red or white?”
She flashed an innocent smile and said, “Surprise me.”
Oliver disappeared, and Esemeray wasted no time before sweeping her veil to the side to chew on her thumb nail. She could feel her anxiety rising to a peak.
Killian’s eyes turned to slits. “Stop it. What’s going on with you?”
She scoffed, speaking low so no one else would hear, “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re chewing on yourself like a chicken bone.” He gripped the stem of his glass between his fingers, spinning it. “What’s bothering you?”
Esemeray quickly glanced toward the end of the table, then back to Killian’s worried stare. “Them.”
Killian leaned back in his chair. “Don’t worry about it. He’s playing his part.”
His part?
“What part?” Esemeray asked, her heart racing.
Killian whispered, “Relax. Riggs is the least of your concern. Focus on something else.”
Focus on what? Focus on the many women surrounding the table belly dancing? Focus on Killian? Even looking at him hurt. All she saw were the tears escaping his eyes when he embraced his wife.
Oliver returned, setting two goblets on the table. “Sophie, I brought you both, so you can tell me which one you prefer.”
“Good gods, Oliver, she does not need both.” Killian rubbed his temples, sighing in annoyance.
“Your cousin loves you,” Oliver teased, taking his seat.
Sipping the wine, Esemeray almost choked, glaring at Killian.
“Yes, he does, very much so. Always looking out for me,” she said, taking another sip.
She was certain that it was the white wine.
It was extremely dry and bitter, but she didn’t care, draining it before reaching for the next and draining that one too.
“Sophie, would you like some water?” Oliver’s eyes gleamed.
Esemeray fluttered her lashes. “I would actually love some more wine.”
“Why don’t you wait till after you eat?” Killian suggested, his tone sounding like more of a demand.
Ignorant of Killian’s ire, Oliver reached for the empty goblets and left once again.
Esemeray smiled, waiting for Oliver to turn the corner and disappear before whirling around and meeting Killian’s gaze. “How about you try the wine, Killian?” she seethed.
Killian clicked his tongue. “I don’t drink.”
“Why not?” Esemeray pressed.
Killian pointed to the bar behind them with a thumb. “A few years ago, I would have drank every godsdamn bottle in this fucking temple. But I quit. I quit because I was doing the same thing you are.”
“And what is that?”
“Drowning yourself in your own misery.” He leaned closer, his self-loathing barely contained. “Do you see this?” He traced the deep scar on his cheek, his voice low and rough. “I have this scar because I picked a fight with the wrong person.”
Esemeray flinched, tucking her hands to her waist. “I—I’m sorry.”
Killian sipped his water. “Don’t be.” He blew out a breath, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m simply looking out for you.” He paused, meeting her eyes.
His features softened as he said, “Plus, who’s going to carry you to bed if you pass out on the floor again?
I am not allowed in the women’s quarters. ”
Esemeray’s chest clenched, heat blooming across her cheeks. “What do you mean?”
“At my father’s. The night of Riggs' birthday. I found you passed out, drooling all over yourself.”
She stiffened, swallowing hard. I thought Riggs carried me to bed… She slowly nodded, unable to respond. Esemeray straightened her spine. Killian’s right: stop drinking.
Kohen appeared, donning a robe that glittered gold like the color of his temple. He looked glamorous. “Welcome, my guests.” His voice lit up the room instantly. “It means the world to have you join me and my family for dinner.”
Killian raised his glass, mirroring everyone else at the table.
Esemeray reached for her water glass, raising it the same way he was.
Her chest heaved as she glanced at Riggs, finding his eyes locked with hers.
The glass trembled in his hand, his lips parting, and slowly she pulled her gaze away, glancing to Killian.
Killian leaned in and whispered, “Whatever you do, hold your liquor. Kohen does not take kindly to people who can’t handle themselves.”
Esemeray nodded, her face turning ruby.
Oliver returned with a wild grin. “Sophie, for you.” He set the goblet down, his warm touch sliding along her back. She winced.
“Thank you.” Esemeray smiled with tight lips, gripping the goblet and staring down at the wine. She wanted to drink it but halted with Killian’s glare.
She swirled her finger around the rim of the metal with a shy smirk. “Just one more.”
“One more.” A small smile tugged at Killian’s lips, his voice rough as he leaned in. “And that’s it.”
She swallowed hard. Chills spread down her spine from Killian’s firm, yet soft, voice.
Oliver crouched down, stroking her arm, and taking her hand into his. “Later this evening, I’d like to invite you to my room.” He pressed a kiss on her knuckles. “If you’ll have me.”
Esemeray’s breath caught. Oliver’s eyes danced with desire so dark it made her heart stop, and suddenly she couldn’t speak.
“Oliver,” Killian warned, gripping Oliver’s wrist. “Take your seat.”
Oliver stood, never taking his eyes off Esemeray, adjusting his robe. “Think about it.” He took his seat on the other side of Killian.
Not far away enough.
Esemeray gathered her thoughts, her breathing.
“Are you alright?” Killian asked.
“Fine.” She gripped the goblet and drained it, her vision turning fuzzy and her mouth going numb. Her heart leapt as Riggs strode over with bunched brows.
He’s angry.
Riggs whispered something in Oliver’s ear, gripping the back of his neck tightly. Oliver’s face turned white as a ghost, his eyes simmering with something like embarrassment as he met Riggs' stare and mouthed. I’m sorry.
Riggs stiffly took his seat next to Izara, his jaw clenching, and his fists tightening along the table.
What did he say to Oliver?
The candlelight above them flickered, a cold rush brushing along her arms. As if Killian felt the same thing, he shrugged, his face clouded with uncertainty. Controlling his features, Killian said to Kohen, “Thank you for inviting us for dinner.”
Kohen smiled, his gold tooth flashing. “It is my pleasure.” His stare lingered. “Sophie, is it?”
Fidgeting with her robe, Esemeray said with an innocent smile, “Yes, Sophie.” Her tummy turned from her dishonesty.
“Are you related to their mother’s or father’s side?” Kohen asked.
“Father.” Esemeray didn’t miss the odd look Riggs made, or the sneer he gave to Oliver.
Kohen sniffed. “Very well then.” He motioned to the servants, his eyes still locked on Esemeray. “We are ready to dine.”
A guard appeared, keeping his voice low. “Mr. Whitlock, this arrived for you today.” Killian nodded, glancing at the letter.
Esemeray peeked before Killian slid the letter into his pocket, noticing BBB stamped across the green seal. She hummed.
Quiet, controlled chaos erupted as the servants arrived with an assortment of platters and pitchers for Kohen’s guests.
The grand plate of vegetables made Esemeray’s stomach groan.
I can eat that entire platter.
Esemeray swallowed her gasp as something hit her chest. A carrot rolled off her and toppled to the tiles. Who threw that at me? She looked up, and found Riggs staring at her with worried eyes.
Riggs mouthed. I’ll explain. I’m sorry.
“Who are you talking to?” Izara gripped his chin, pulling his stare away, and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
Esemeray gasped. Her vision blurred, and her stomach swirled. Trying to keep her composure, she curled her hands, piercing her skin with her nails and timing her breaths.
In. One, two, three. Out. One, two, three.
“Cousin, you alright?”
Esemeray shook her head, leaning over her seat and dry heaving. “I’m going to throw up.”
Kohen snapped his fingers, and a bucket arrived. Killian rubbed her back, comforting her. Odd to admit his touch was strangely welcome.
She inhaled a deep breath, willing her stomach to tame. “I’m fine.” She waved her hand, dismissing the servant. “Thank you.” She regained her composure, straightening her shoulders.
“What’s wrong with her?” Izara’s brows drew together. “Sweetie, are you alright?”
Esemeray faced Izara, straining to keep her lip curling in disgust. All she wanted to do was walk over to her, and rip her hair out for kissing Riggs. Esemeray cleared her throat, and said with a lethal calm, “Some lesser wines make my stomach hurt.”
Silver flashed in her eyes.
Esemeray blinked the sting away. An overpowering sense filled her mind, she slammed her eyes closed, attempting to calm herself. Her shadows slithered beneath her skin looking for a way to break free.
What’s happening to me?
“Apologies, Kohen, our cousin is having a spasm.” Killian gripped her chin, tilting her head back, and forced water down her throat. “Drink,” he ordered with a low rasp.
And so she did, nearly choking with each gulp.