CHAPTER 22 - Inevitable
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All I could do was stay frozen as Sylvos held me captive in his embrace.
The kiss was searing, insistent, claiming — like he wished to brand my very soul. It was not the touch of a lover but of a conqueror, a man who believed he owned every piece of me.
My body remembered him with agonizing clarity, the hunger I had felt for him in my first life mocking me, even as my mind screamed for escape.
I shut my eyes tightly, willing myself into numbness, but his hold only grew stronger.
His hand slid from my waist, chilling me through the fabric of my gown as his touch lowered.
He gripped my thigh with a force that made me gasp.
Before I could react, he hoisted me effortlessly onto the thornwood table.
With a forceful motion, he positioned himself between my legs and pinned me down onto the table while still ravaging me with his kiss. My back pressed into the carved wood and the skirt of my gown pooled near my hips.
My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat of panic and memory. Breathless, I realized the depth of his intent.
Did he mean to take me right here?
A low, guttural growl from nearby shattered the suffocating moment.
Sylvos froze, his lips pulling back from mine. His black eyes narrowed as he turned his attention toward the sound.
The vylnir stood on the far end of the table, its shadowy form twisting unnaturally, fur bristling and teeth bared. Its snarl echoed in the chamber, a promise of violence.
"Tell it to behave, or I'll cut it down where it stands," Sylvos warned. A stray strand of silver hair fell over his brow, framing the dark gleam of his gaze.
I gasped for air, my chest heaving as I fought to regain control of myself. Every fiber of my being longed to command the creature to rip him apart.
But I bit my tongue, knowing the precarious line I walked.
The vylnir's body coiled tighter, its shadowy limbs shifting as though it was preparing to strike. Swallowing my frustration, I forced myself to speak.
"M? ??ι???, ?σ ?σ? α??α??. S?α? α? ?συ α??. I α? ?α??," I said bitterly.
The creature hesitated, its contortions slowing as it obeyed. But its eerie eyes remained fixed on the man on top of me, a silent warning lingering in the tension-choked air.
I trembled as Sylvos' black eyes locked onto mine. The jagged silver of his crown caught the light from the domed roof above. And for a moment, he looked more lethal than any sword.
"Y-Your Majesty!" I spoke up before he could continue his assault. "This... this isn't right. I am not of proper rank for such liberties."
He arched a dark brow.
"Would a tyrant care for such rules?"
He leaned closer, his body pressing against mine. Heat radiated from him, seeping through the fabric of my gown. My breath thinned.
"I-I was only jesting about that," I stammered, desperate to defuse the moment.
"Oh, I think not," he replied smoothly. "You spoke truth, Princess. You see me as a tyrant. Perhaps it's time I acted the part."
My hand pressed weakly against his chest, a feeble barrier against his encroachment.
"Every ruler is a tyrant in their own right," I said, forcing calm into my tone. "But as a husband, I know you to be fair..."
The lie was bitter on my tongue, and Sylvos smirked as though he could taste it.
"Fair?" he echoed mockingly. "I grow weary of being fair. Perhaps it's time I took what I wanted... as you have."
My pulse quickened.
"When have I ever taken anything from you?"
His hands traced the curve of my exposed thigh, his touch sending an unwelcome shiver through me.
"Mmm," he hummed, his lips curling mischievously. "Did you not steal a kiss from me at the Royal Hunt?"
I froze.
"I'm only returning the favor," he continued teasingly. "Since I never consented either."
"That... that was nothing like this!" I protested, my face burning.
He leaned closer, his breath warm against my ear.
"I thought we were going to die," he mimicked, his voice a cruel parody of my own. "If this was the end... I wanted to at least share a kiss."
The memory stung, and I cursed myself for those foolish words.
"I was very moved, Princess," he said, his smile darkening. "Perhaps you do love me... When it matters most."
"I was faint from smoke and chaos!" I snapped, my embarrassment fueling my anger.
"And perhaps poison?"
The word struck like a lash, and I stiffened. Sylvos caught the change in my expression and chuckled.
"I may not be able to read minds, but I didn't win my wars by being a fool." He leaned in until his lips brushed against mine, his voice a dangerous whisper. "Tell me, Princess, and choose your words wisely... did you know my blood is a cure for all poisons? Only a select few are aware."
My mind raced. I couldn't speak.
"If you say no," he murmured, his hand sliding to my throat in a possessive grip, "then perhaps I should finish what we've started here... since it was infatuated that drove you?"
My breathing quickened as his words sank in, the weight of my predicament crushing.
"And if you say yes," he continued, "perhaps I should poison you myself... just to see you beg for me again."
My heart thundered, trapped between fear and fury. Both paths he offered led to ruin.
I finally understood why I had died so many times before. My own tongue was my undoing. But worse still was Sylvos...
He had always been a step ahead.
In every life, he managed to cut me down before I could end his reign.
"I..." The words faltered, choking in my throat.
Just as tears threatened to spill, Sylvos laughed — a cold, cruel sound that sent shivers down my body. He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender.
"I only tease, Princess," he said with a grin. "You make it far too entertaining."
I scrambled to my feet, heat blazing through me.
"Such games are cruel, Your Majesty," I hissed.
"Yes, yes," he replied dismissively, waving a hand. "But what choice do I have? Waiting for you to reach Lavender rank is proving... hard. Forgive me for stealing a taste."
His words made me pause.
I had been so focused on reaching Lavender so I could intercept those letters of the sea snake, that I hadn't really considered the consequences.
Once I reach Lavender...
Sylvos truly could claim me whenever he wished.
Before I could retort, he turned and threw open the doors. His advisors and generals waited beyond, their eyes flicking between us. Even Ser Bastian Blacksteel stood there, his dark gaze fixed on me with a glare.
No doubt the captain of the Briarbound Knights would scorn me for his cousin's demotion...
"She has full sway over the beast," Sylvos announced, his voice carrying authority and satisfaction. He cast a glance back at me, his smirk deepening. "Even under... questionable circumstances, the vylnir obeys her. We can proceed with this information in mind."
My jaw dropped as the realization hit.
This entire charade... had been a test?
My fists clenched as Sylvos' smirk burned into my vision. The vylnir, still in its catlike form, leapt onto my shoulder and I turned sharply, my steps purposeful as I marched past the gathered men.
I refused to be part of this farce any longer.
With determination burning in my chest, I stormed through Dornhold's winding courtyards and shadowed offices. I nearly turned toward Clover Castle before correcting my course to Daisy. Once inside, I allowed myself a rare moment of peace.
"??α?? ?συ," I murmured to the vylnir perched on my shoulder, its dark form curling close in response.
Since the Harvest Festival was little more than a month away, there was no time to waste. I made my way toward Virella's quarters, intent on preparing for our performance. But when I arrived, her room was cold and empty.
Was she still with her brother?
Giving her more time, I returned to my chamber and placed the kettle over the hearth before dropping a few brittle mint leaves into a chipped mug.
The vylnir leapt down from my shoulders with a low purr. It padded across the room and curled by a patch of sunlight near the far wall, its shadowy body rising and falling with slow breaths.
Once tea was done, I sat by the windowsill and drank slowly. Raincatcher was perched across from me, its reflection catching the afternoon light.
Ryn wasn't lounging today. He sat cross-legged by the hearth, hunched slightly. His raven black hair looked a bit dull and his pointed ears slightly drooped.
"You look dead," I teased half-heartedly.
"I am," he retorted without smiling.
I raised a brow.
"Well, spill it. What does a dead elf have to worry about?"
His eyes, a deep blue, flicked toward me.
"Even when you can't see me," he murmured, "I see you."
I blinked, caught off guard.
He returned his gaze to the fire.
Oh... He must have seen what happened in the war chamber...
"It's not exactly avoidable," I said after a pause, keeping my voice level. "I'm a concubine. It's... expected that he'll make advances."
"Trust me," he sighed. "I know."
A strange guilt crept over me.
Hoping to change the conversation, I exhaled and sat a bit straighter.
"Tell me something," I said. "In the other lives... did I ever manage to send letters to my sisters?"
Ryn leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
"You did," he said. "Not in all your lives. But in some. You sent them through the letter office, though they mostly just talked about how much you miss home."
"Did I ever try to send more... risky letters?" I asked. "Anything secretive?"
He shrugged.
"A few times, you tried relaying instructions through old sayings and childhood rhymes. But it wasn't effective in getting any vital information through. If you said anything remotely close to treason, you'd be imprisoned."
"Was the letter office the only way?"
"There was one life where you tried to sneak out of the fortress to send them from outside. Though they caught you crossing the eastern wall. You were executed at dawn. Publicly."
I gulped, feeling for a moment like my head could roll off my neck.
"So are letters impossible?" I asked, glancing out the window.
"The only possible way I can see it work is if you found someone you could trust," Ryn answered. "Someone who can slip in and out of the fortress to deliver your letters. Though finding such a person is a risk I don't think we should take. What if they betray you? It's too dangerous."
My gaze slid to the vylnir, still basking in its patch of light.
I took another sip of my tea.
"Even if it's a risk, we must find a way," I said.
"Although I gave Claude instructions on securing the alliance with Pyree, I need to know how it's progressing.
If it's even progressing at all. My whole plan relies on Pyree coming to Driftwoode's aid.
But Skye might refuse to marry. She might even hate me. I wouldn't blame her..."
"She wouldn't hate you," Ryn said softly.
"You don't know her," I replied. "She loves Drakfjord and the dragons.
She likes to joke about marrying a handsome man, but I know the last thing she'd want is a betrothal that would take her away from home.
And at such a young age..." I trailed off, sighing.
"But if it was inevitable, why not move first and gain an ally?
Unless we secure a Pyreen army, Driftwoode is as good as gone. "
"What do you mean by 'inevitable'?" the elf asked.
I glanced at the hearth as though the memories of my first life played out in the flames.
"In three years from now, there will be a Pyreen warrior whose name will spread like wildfire. Enough to even make Sylvos uneasy. He'll lead many armies to victory and will be hailed as the God of Battle reborn. Malrik Solfyr."
I took a sip of tea, my eyes never leaving the flickering fire.
"But his true fame will come after he turns fifteen and kills his nephew, the king. After he takes the throne and wields the cursed sword of flame, he'll earn the name Ashfall. For after every battle he enters, all he will leave behind is ash."
"And you've paired such a boy with your sister?" Ryn asked.
"Yes."
I finished my tea and set the cup down.
"It was about a month before my death when I heard the news," I explained. "That young Pyreen king had visited Drakfjord. And he had evoked his bride-taking right. He stole my sister and cut down a hundred soldiers as he returned with her to Pyree."
I sighed as I stood up, wiping the dust from my skirt. Even just remembering this detail of my life made my fists bundle. I was enraged at the news of Skye's fate. But...
"Whether I do something or not, in three years, Prince Malrik will visit Drakfjord and take my sister as his bride.
So, I've arranged for this union while he is still only twelve.
This way, he is young and manageable. I have hopes my sister could tame him for our benefit.
Before he turns into the warrior he'll be. "
Ryn's lips pressed into a thin line.
"And if your plan fails? What if meeting her so early changes his desire for her? He might even dislike her."
I allowed myself a small, bitter smile.
"The rumors from the end of my life said he'd fallen for her the moment their eyes met. I don't blame him. Skye truly is a beauty. And I have no doubt she'll sweep him off his feet in this life too."
"We can only hope..." Ryn murmured.
Wondering if Virella had returned yet, I went to check her room again. The vylnir followed after me, its paws near-silent as it prowled the stone floor in search of mice.
But her room was still empty.
My brow furrowed.
I sought her in the drawing room next, then the library, the dining hall, and even the bathing chamber. Nothing. No trace of her.
The concubines I encountered shrank at my approach, trembling in their blue gowns. Before I could even question them about Virella's whereabouts, they scattered like rats in the light, too fearful to be reasoned with. An hour passed, and still, there was no sign of her.
Finally, I emerged into Daisy's courtyard, the sound of a waterfall threading the air. Vines twisted along the stone walls, heavy with dark ivy.
"I saw her being taken by a man."
The soft, sing-song voice startled me. I spun sharply, hand brushing the hilt of Raincatcher, only to find Sireen Poole perched lazily on a thick vine that climbed the courtyard wall.
She balanced there like a talon-toed fox, holding onto a jutting thorn with one hand and an apple in the other.
Her wide, unsettling eyes gleamed as she blinked down at me.
"A man?" I echoed. "Was it a knight?"
"I think so," she hummed, taking another bite of her apple. Juice dripped down her chin as she spoke. "Dark green cape. Spiked armor. He looked pretty angry. Was practically dragging her with him."
He was dragging Virella? Why? Did she somehow get in trouble when she visited her brother? What was going on?
"He'll be executed for this," I said. "Where did he take her?"
Sireen's languid arm extended, her long finger pointing toward the mountain path beyond Daisy's crumbling courtyard walls.
I didn't wait for further explanation. Raincatcher was in my hand before I could think as I rushed down the winding path, the vylnir right on my heels.
The distant murmur of voices reached my ears, and I quickened my pace. When I rounded the corner, my heart clenched.
Virella stood with her head held high. She faced a knight cloaked in green and shadow. His voice was a low, gravelly snarl, his posture confrontational.
I didn't think. I raised my arm, pointing Raincatcher at the man.
"T?αρ ?ι?," I commanded, the words like steel on my tongue.
The knight turned, his green eyes widening. But before he could act, the vylnir leapt toward him. Its shape twisted mid-air, an eerie and fluid motion, until it landed as it's monstrous fox-wolf shape. It pinned the man to the ground with a snarl that could unnerve the bravest warrior.
"Raine!" Virella gasped.
"What's going on here?" I demanded, stalking forward, my dagger gleaming as the vylnir's fangs hovered dangerously close to the knight's throat.
The man, to his credit, didn't flinch. A sheen of sweat made his dark blonde hair stick to his brow as he sent a venomous glare my way.
"Ella, get this mutt off me!" he barked.
"Ella?" I repeated, confused.
Virella sighed, crossing her arms.
"Actually, I rather enjoy seeing you like this, Cav," she smirked, her tone sweet as poison. "Vyvy, be a good beast and keep him there a little longer."
The familiarity in her voice made me falter.
"Who is this knight?" I demanded. "Was he trying to hurt you?"
"Hurt my ears, mostly," she quipped, rolling her eyes. "Raine, this is my idiot brother, Ser Cavriel Gildmere. Cav, this is my talentless friend, Princess Raine Stjorme."
My brows lifted.
This was Virella's brother?
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