Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Kane
Anna fluttered over to the desk in the corner of my chambers and sat on the edge. “You don't have to do this.”
I grabbed the decanter and poured myself wine. Soon Deirdre would arrive at my chambers, and we would have to lie with one another, whether we wanted to or not.
Hopefully, the little thorn didn’t try to kill me in the process.
“Yes, I do,” I said for the third time.
“She is still grieving.”
After downing the drink, I poured another. The savory spiced notes lingered on my tongue. “How long would you like me to wait? Six months? A year? Until she's old and weathered?”
“She's our new queen. She's not ready for this. She just—”
“I know what happened. I was there.”
Anna launched off the desk and flew in front of my face, her translucent wings beating rapidly.
“She's not your enemy,” Anna whispered.
“No, but I’m hers.”
Noises sounded outside the bedroom.
“The priests are here.” After gulping down the rest of the wine, I placed the goblet on the glass tray.
Anna looked at me and I turned away from her, not wanting to see the hurt in her eyes. This was part of the process. A necessary requirement of the marriage pact and one Deirdre’s people would have prepared her for.
“Leave,” I ordered, not wanting a pixie audience for this awkward event.
Anna flew toward the secret entrance in my room and pushed on the panel on the wall before disappearing.
Rolling out the tension in my shoulders, I eyed the door.
How many times in the past century had I been nervous?
And why now?
The temple would have prepared Deirdre for tonight.
We didn’t have to speak, and if I focused on something else, it could be over quickly.
Another knock on the door and I took off my shirt, throwing it over the nearby chair. “Enter.”
Three priests shuffled in, their heads bowed, all of them in their traditional green robes and viny headdresses.
The youngest of the order carried a ball of incense that he swung back and forth, bathing the area in frankincense and turning my bedroom into some sort of religious temple.
Each one spread out around the room, finding a spot where they had a perfect view of the bed.
The tradition of consummating in front of these old fae had been part of our ways for centuries, and not just in the fae, but in all the races of Saol.
Making sure the king and queen were joined as one on their wedding night was critical to solidifying the marriage.
A ridiculous practice that didn't change the tattooed symbols bonding Deirdre and me together.
The ivy ran along my right arm all the way up and across my chest where the star-shaped rose bloomed right over my heart.
I didn't know what I expected when we wed.
My mother's tattoo was a simple rune on her hand.
I wondered if this new design would be permanent like the tattooed tree on my back or if it would disappear by morning.
Any scars or cuts that I gained always disappeared by dawn, unless they were crafted with a magic deeper than my immortality or I had them before I became immortal like the tattoo the dryads inked into me, allowing me to call on them from any tree I touched.
The priests conversed among themselves.
A bead of sweat slid down the back of my neck and I kneaded the tension in my shoulders while I paced beside the bed. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this nervous.
“She comes,” one whispered.
I stiffened, my chest tightening, my thoughts going still.
Deirdre stepped into the room clothed in a silky silver gown and white robe, the wide hood covering most of her face as she walked into the bedroom with her head down.
I must’ve breathed too heavily at the sight of her because she lifted her head, her dark eyes finding mine.
A dusting of shimmer coated her cheeks, and her long ebony hair trailed down the front of her chest.
The respectable thing would have been to greet her, yet I stood there, my mouth agape like a fool.
Her handmaiden followed in behind her, though Liora wouldn't stay for the festivities.
Deirdre walked past the priests to the other side of the bed, taking two steps up the platform.
The servants had pulled the fern-colored curtains back on my four-post bed, giving our audience a clearer view.
Her handmaiden whispered to her, and Deirdre nodded, allowing her servant to take her robe.
Liora draped it over the chair in the corner, then left, closing the door behind her and leaving us alone with the priests.
The elder priest who I tended to clash with leered at Deirdre, his gray eyes almost gleaming with wicked intent. If he continued to gawk at her anymore, I’d throw him out, regardless of any ridiculous tradition.
I didn’t trust any of the priesthood. Not since the moment they’d arrived at court after my father’s death.
Turning my attention back to Deirdre, I wondered what ran through her thoughts.
With her arms hugging her middle, she stared at the bed, waiting for an invitation. I grabbed the covers and pulled them back.
We both sat on it.
My heart raced.
We hadn't even kissed and now I’m supposed to…
This shouldn't be that difficult. I'm the king. This is what kings do.
Deirdre lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling.
I really wished those priests weren't here. Should I say something to her, ease her into this, or is it better to get it over with as fast as possible?
Neither of those options were what I wanted.
I was the Deathless One. The Immortal Fae King, unafraid of anything, and yet my heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out all logic.
Shifting to my side, I lay next to her and pulled the blanket over us, trying to cover as much of ourselves as possible.
What do I say to her? Do I say anything?
Question after question racked my mind. I hadn't thought about this moment. I figured it would be easy. I had been with females before. This should be a simple thing.
Deirdre and I were married, but we weren’t friends, not even casual acquaintances. If she had the chance to kill me and I actually stayed dead, I believed she’d try it.
She kept her gaze on the ceiling, and I glanced up, almost thinking something was there, but then I realized she was focusing on the painting to keep her thoughts away from me.
The tall clock in the corner of my room chimed loudly, making her flinch.
I moved on top of her, and a slight muffled cry left her lips.
Grabbing the hem of her nightgown, I settled between her legs, sweat sliding down the back of my neck.
A floral perfume enveloped her. The sweet aroma of wildflowers made my heart beat even faster. “You smell nice.”
Her brow furrowed, and I instantly regretted saying something so foolish. King of the Fae and I was making childish compliments.
Once I was in a somewhat comfortable position, I put my arms on either side of her body, hovering over her.
From far away, her dark eyes almost seemed black, but this close they were a deep mahogany brown. Warm like the earth with tiny golden flecks. The star-shaped birthmark crossed onto the side of her nose, grazing it. The pinkish scar gave her a unique beauty, almost highlighting her full cheeks.
An urge to trace my finger along the edges came over me, but when she looked up at me, her mouth in a hard tight line, her brow narrowed, her gaze furious, I realized doing that would not be wise, especially while she wore the pixie dust.
She was angry, and rightfully so. When I had arrived at her home, I had not intended to kill anyone, but there is a reason you should not poke a dragon.
“Are you comfortable?” I asked, needing to say something to break the tension.
Instead of responding, she eyed me, the hate making me sweat even more.
Better do this quickly before she uses her magic to wrap the nearby flowers around my throat or…
Glancing at her wrist, I noticed she had, in fact, worn the pixie bracelet. She was smart enough not to try any of those dusts on me while the priests were in the room, but after, well, I wouldn’t be angry if she tried to kill me. Even if she succeeded, by morning, I would be healed.
Not wanting to remember the last time I was killed, I focused on the human below me, attempting to forget the hate between us and forge something new.
Grabbing her leg, I lifted it to bring me closer to her, and when my hand touched her bare skin, the anger in her eyes shattered into complete brokenness.
I stilled, not wanting to move another inch.
Eyes wide with fear, tears streamed from the corners of her eyes, splashing my arms. Her gaze went back to the ceiling, and she gritted her teeth, trying to ignore the sorrow so clearly etched on her face. There was no scream or hateful words and somehow that made it much worse.
Though she did her best to control the fear, her body trembled beneath mine.
No, I may be the villain in our story, but I will not become the monster.
A sudden need to protect my little thorn rushed out of me in powerful waves. Massive shadow wings grew from my back, encasing Deirdre, and I in a cocoon of darkness, blocking out our audience.
“Your Highness!” one of the priests bellowed.
Deirdre went rigid below me and gripped my arms, her nails digging into my flesh, her chest heaving against mine.
“Everybody out,” I ordered, my voice a low growl.
“But Your Highness.”
“Everyone out, now! That is an order by your king.”
I didn't dare move from her, not yet.
“As you wish,” the three priests said at once.
They quickly shuffled out, mumbling to one another, and once the door closed and I was sure they were all gone, I pulled the shadows back into me and rolled off her. Throwing my legs over the side of the bed, I hung my head into my open palms.
Anna was right. I couldn't do it. I hated when my pixies were right.
It wasn’t just the fear in Deirdre’s eyes, but an utter hopelessness that can only come during moments of unfathomable vulnerability.
An emotion I knew too well. When I realized my mother was never coming to get me from the Dryad Realm, my world shattered.
I would not inflict that same pain on my wife, no matter how much she hated me.
The bed shifted and when I glanced over my shoulder, Deirdre had the blanket pulled up to her neck, covering everything but her face and wavy hair.
“I don't understand,” she said, wiping away tears with the back of her hand. The drops splashed over the rose rune.
How could I explain this to her?
How was I going to explain this to the priests?
There would be consequences for not consummating the marriage. No one could hurt me, but Deirdre would be a target. If the court found out, they would scheme and plot for her removal.
Fear replaced the anger in her widened gaze as she gripped the blanket.
“Did I do something wrong?” Her question came out between broken gasps. “Why did you stop? Is it because……”
Why would she think this was her fault?
She shook her head, shoulders sinking. “They were right. The villagers, the girls. They were all right.”
Seeing her unsettled, I shifted on the bed so I faced her. “What are you talking about?”
Her chest heaved, and she breathed heavily, too many tears trailing down her face.
“When you didn’t show when I came of age. They said it was because I was ugly. That the King of the Fae could never marry someone like me.”
A sob broke out as if some deep emotional burden had burst forth.
“Listen well, little thorn,” I said, softening my tone. “I stopped for my own reasons, and it wasn’t because of how you look.”
Her lips parted, as if she meant to say something more, but she nodded once and looked away, blinking fast to hold back another wave of tears.
Needing to break the intensity of the moment, I glanced at the door.
“I'll bring you back to your chambers,” I finally said, needing to think without her in the room. “But you can't leave. No one can know that you didn't stay here the whole night.”
She sat up straighter.
“But…” She paused as if she finally understood what I was doing. “Won’t they know we didn’t…?” Her gaze went to the bed.
I knew what she hinted at. “I'll take care of it.”
“With another female?”
I scoffed and went to the door to lock it. I didn’t want to risk the priests attempting to come back in. “No, of course not. Would you like to return to your room, or shall we sit here and debate how I'm going to lie to my entire priesthood?”
Her bottom lip trembled. “Go back to my room.”
Going to my bureau, I shuffled through the shirts, searching for something to make a blindfold with. When I found one, I ripped the sleeve off. “You're going to have to trust me.”
“What?” She gripped the blanket tighter.
Her long wavy dark hair had frizzed along the edges of her face. Red splotches covered her cheeks and nose. She was definitely pretty for a human, even with the birthmark over her right eye. It didn't diminish her beauty at all. In fact, I found it quite charming.
“I'd rather you not know how to secretly enter my chambers. If you want to return to your room, then you need to wear this blindfold.”
She nodded, then quickly scooted off the bed to grab her robe and slip it back on, along with her slippers.
I walked around the side of the bed and motioned with my finger for her to turn around. She did, and I wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and tightened it. Once I was sure she couldn’t see, I grabbed her hand.
She flinched.
“I will not hurt you,” I said. “I hope after tonight you can finally trust those words.”
Her head tilted in my direction. Though I couldn't see her eyes, I knew she was probably terrified.
“The way is a little twisty. I just want to make sure you don't fall.”
“Oh.” Her hand shook, but she didn’t let go.
I pushed the panel to the secret hallway. The wall swung open, and I dragged my bride into the darkness.