CHAPTER 37 - Hate Me, Please
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I couldn't allow the mood to get too comfortable...
Perhaps, if I spoke long enough, I could bore him to sleep.
Confident in my plan, I took a sip of wine and sank into the cushions, my sheer lavender gown spilling around me.
"L-like I said, everyone dances in their own way," I continued. "My eldest sister, Claude, follows the routine perfectly. But her dance is more like a military drill than an art. Her movements are too rigid to master the dance's final form."
"The final form? Is that what you performed today with the lightning?" Sylvos asked.
"Yes," I admitted. "But it's not a common skill. Even summoning rain and wind is only possible because of the storm-forged daggers I use. Some can call forth fog or frost. My grandmother had a blade that could summon a rainbow." I allowed myself a small, wistful smile. "She gave that one to Skye."
"Skye is your younger sister?" he asked, tilting his head as he studied me.
I nodded, unable to suppress the warmth that filled me at the thought of her.
"She's impossible to contain. Wild and free in a way that makes you envy her. She barely follows the dance routine at all. I doubt she'll ever have the discipline to master its final form."
"One sister is too disciplined, and the other too wild. Which does the dance prefer?" he asked. His voice was soft and probing, as though my answer truly mattered to him.
I hesitated, staring into the depths of my wine. The flickering firelight painted the room in warm shadows, softening the harsh lines of his crown. For a fleeting moment, he seemed less like a ruler and more like a man waiting for a story.
"Both," I said finally. "You need to find the balance. I just happen to be good at that."
Sylvos smiled, not his usual smug grin, but something softer.
"I love the look in your eyes when you speak of your home. Do you miss it?"
"Very much," I admitted quietly.
"I suppose if I offered to conquer it for you and place it in your hands, you'd deny me?" Sylvos asked.
I scoffed, meeting his black gaze.
"My protests wouldn't matter, would they? Regardless of this betrothal, you'll take Drakfjord anyway. Won't you?"
Even if I didn't seek vengeance... If I forgot about everything and tried to live a different life, Sylvos would wage war on my home. Whatever choices I have made, coming to Thornmont has always been my only option.
"I wish to seize the storm sword," Sylvos admitted, his voice quiet but resolute. "Do not worry though. I promise to be gentle with your people."
My eyes narrowed.
"Perhaps you are the one that should worry, Your Majesty. I cannot promise that my people will return your gentle conquest."
That provoked a grin from him, sharp and gleaming, like the thorns that adorned his attire.
"If Drakfjord is anything like its princess, I'd expect nothing less," he smirked.
I sighed, my gaze dropping to the empty goblet in my hands.
"Your desire for the cursed swords... Tell me, is it for the prophecy you spoke of?"
He inclined his head, his silver hair catching the faint glow of the firelight.
"Partly, yes."
I rolled my eyes and stood, crossing the room to pour myself another glass of wine.
"You claim not to believe in what you cannot see for yourself, and yet you put your faith in a prophecy? How hypocritical of you, Your Majesty."
Sylvos followed me to the table, plucking my cup from my hands and filling it himself before pouring his own.
"Yes," he said, snatching a grape from the tray of snacks.
"But I've seen the original stone tablets.
It took a thousand years for scholars to translate the texts.
And the words had been guarded for a thousand years more.
Perhaps that alone would not have convinced me, but coupled with Briarvex's whispers.
.." He trailed off, his dark gaze meeting mine.
"How could I not believe that I have a destiny to achieve? "
My fingers tightened around the stem of my goblet as I watched him. A breeze stirred the curtains, and Sylvos turned, stepping onto the balcony. He stood there for a moment, silhouetted against the night sky.
"I grew up in darkness," he continued, his voice low and distant. "The dungeons were all I knew. All I saw was blackness. All I smelled was rot. But when I closed my eyes, I heard Briarvex promising me the world. I was only a child but that promise kept me alive. Even when I should have starved."
I swallowed, my grip loosening on the goblet as his words settled over me.
"There were times when the guards couldn't sneak me food," he sighed. "During those months, I prayed for a rat to wander into my cell."
Something tightened in my chest.
I drained the last of my wine, the bitter tang lingering on my tongue as I stepped onto the balcony, resting my arms on the cold stone balustrade.
I'm not listening to him out of pity, I told myself. I'm simply gathering information that could potentially be used against him.
Yes, that was right.
I would not forgive him simply because of an unfortunate past. Not when his future so cruelly stole my own.
"Do you think your years in darkness grant you the right to take the world?" I asked, though my words lacked the bite I meant to put behind it.
Sylvos turned to me.
His smile was the only answer I needed.
"I am not granted anything," he said. "I will take it."
I arched a brow.
"Spoken like a true tyrant."
He chuckled, the sound low and smooth. Turning to me fully, he leaned closer.
"You use that word very lightly, Raine. Perhaps I should indulge you in its meaning."
I rolled my eyes, ready to retort back, but his hand darted out, catching my chin in a firm grip. He tilted my face toward him, his touch surprisingly gentle.
"If a tyrant is allowed to take anything they want," he murmured, "then perhaps it is not so bad."
Before I could respond, his lips brushed mine — soft, tentative, like a feather tracing over stone.
It was so unlike him, so achingly gentle, that it sent a shock rippling through me.
I didn't move. I couldn't.
The curtains billowed around us as his hands cupped my face, his touch reverent and careful. More confident this time, his lips pressed against mine again, deep and tender.
And I let him...
Perhaps it was the wine, or the weight of my position as a concubine...
Yes, that's right... It wasn't as though I wanted this. I simply didn't have a choice. To refuse him now would be a risk I couldn't afford to take. I had to keep my rank after all.
Set in my thoughts, I tried to separate my mind from my body. But it was as though Sylvos sensed it. His grip slid to my waist while his kiss grew more insistent. The cold wind from the balcony tangled with the heat radiating from his body, and I found myself pressed against the balustrade.
For a moment, I forgot who I was.
Strong hands roamed down my back, pulling me closer as his lips trailed down my jaw, then back to meet mine. My pulse thundered in my ears, drowning out reason.
Without breaking the kiss, Sylvos slipped an arm beneath my legs and lifted me effortlessly, cradling me against him as though I weighed less than his sword.
He carried me back inside, laying me down gently on the bed. His silver hair spilled around his face as he leaned over me, his gaze dark and burning. His lips claimed mine again, and his hands moved with purpose, trailing over my arms, my waist, my hips.
But as his touch lingered and his kisses grew hungrier, my thoughts spiraled.
If I gave in, what would happen?
Would I become pregnant again?
And if I did... what then?
A shiver ran through me, and for a moment, my hands hesitated against his chest. He noticed but didn't pull away. Instead, he slowed, his kisses softening, as though coaxing me to surrender.
His fingers moved to the ties of my dress, and as the fabric began to loosen, he paused. His black eyes caught on the scar etched above my heart.
The scar only the two of us could see.
Sylvos stared at it for a moment, his expression darkening. Then, without a word, he bent down and kissed the scar, the warmth of his lips searing against the old wound.
"It must have hurt," he murmured. His fingers brushed over the scar as if he could erase it. "I wish I could punish whoever did this to you."
His words caught me off guard, and I stilled beneath him.
The intimacy of it, the tenderness, was more terrifying than any cruelty he could have shown me. And when his kisses resumed, trailing from the scar to my collarbone, the heat between us reignited.
But my thoughts grew heavier, suffocating.
I couldn't do this.
Not again.
I pushed against his chest, breaking the kiss.
"I can't," I whispered, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to steady it. "There's... something you don't know."
His eyes narrowed, but he didn't pull away.
"What is it?" he asked.
I hesitated, the words lodged in my throat like shards of glass.
"I... have a secret," I said at last. "And if I tell you... you might dispose of me right now."
He leaned in, his face a breath away from mine.
"Never," he promised. "Tell me."
I swallowed as I gathered my courage.
"I'll show you," I whispered.
I rose from the bed, my fingers working at the ties of my gown. The fabric was soft and weightless, a delicate veil of pale purple that barely clung to my frame. Sylvos stood as well, his gaze sharpening as he watched me.
"You already know of the scar over my heart..." I murmured. "But that's not all..."
The ties came undone, and the gown parted. A shiver brushed over my spine.
Though I had been bare before Sylvos countless times in my past life, it felt different this time.
The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over my skin. The scars gleamed silver-pink in its glow — one jagged across my chest, and another, crueler, traced a path along my lower abdomen.
This was the only way to ensure he would never touch me.
"As you can see, the person who cut me left two scars," I said, dragging my fingers along the mark carved into my stomach. "The physician said I would never bear children..." I lied.
Gathering my courage, I lifted my gaze, meeting his.
"So please, Your Majesty, do not waste your time coming to my chambers. I can serve you as your Beast Warden, but as a concubine, I have no value to you. I could never give you an heir."
Never again.
Sylvos stepped toward me, and I forced myself to stand still as his fingers ghosted over the scar on my belly. A strange expression crossed his face.
"Are you certain?" he murmured. "Perhaps my doctor could—"
"No." I grabbed his wrist before he could continue. "Please, Your Majesty, do not tell a soul. If the court finds out, you know I will be at a great disadvantage here. I might even be removed."
If he called a doctor, and the man found no damage, it would be too suspicious. Sylvos and I were the only people who could see these scars.
He said nothing, his gaze fixed on my stomach. Heat crawled up my skin as I realized how exposed I was. Then, to my horror, he dropped to his knees before me.
My breath caught.
His hands settled at my waist as he lowered his head, pressing a slow, tender kiss to the scar on my belly.
My heart pounded.
"Please tell me, who did this?" he whispered against my skin.
My body betrayed me, reacting to his touch despite everything he had done to me.
I wanted nothing more than to tell him the truth. To see his reaction.
Should I?
Ryn had told me it wouldn't work. That Sylvos had never believed me whenever I told him of our past. But what if these scars were enough? What if, for once, he listened? Perhaps I could just risk it regardless? Try again if it all fails?
But then what?
Even if he believed me, would I forgive him?
No.
I would never forgive him.
And telling him the truth would only make my revenge harder.
I forced my voice to steady.
"The man who did this..." I whispered. "I am waiting to find him. And when I do, I will make him pay."
Sylvos lifted his head, his black eyes gleaming as he studied me from below. Even now, I simply couldn't find a trace of the tyrant who had condemned me.
But I knew better.
He was in there. And he would reveal himself long before I destroyed his empire.
"Is there a way for me to help?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"I'll let you know when I find him."
He exhaled slowly.
"Very well."
He kissed the scar again, his lips brushing over the ruined skin as though sealing a vow. I stiffened, unsure what disturbed me so much.
I needed to regain control of this situation...
"So..." I began, struggling for the right words. "Though I am honored to increase my rank, you should not waste your time in my chambers. You will want an heir before this war is over. It would be wiser to spend your nights with concubines who could benefit you."
Sylvos smirked as he glanced at me, his arms coiling around my waist like vines.
"I think I prefer spending them here."
Before I could react, he lifted me with effortless strength and laid me down upon the silken sheets. My breath hitched as he reached up, pulling the heavy crown from his head and tossing it carelessly to the floor. As though it meant nothing to him.
Then he was on top of me, shadowing me, the warmth of his body a contrast to the chill in my veins. His lips found my neck, and I shivered despite myself.
I hated him.
And yet...
I...
Sylvos pulled back just enough to peel off his tunic, revealing a body sculpted by war. Pale skin marred with old wounds, a history of conquest carved into flesh. His silver hair tumbled over his shoulders as he leaned down, his mouth tracing the line of my collarbone.
A lump formed in my throat.
Refusing him could risk my rank, but...
"Your Majesty, please," I blurted. "I don't wish to engage with you like this. I am awfully tired and the wound... it would hurt."
He stilled above me. Then, slowly, he looked down at me again — at my body. My gown barely clung onto me, the thin material hanging off my frame.
"It hurts? Truly?" he asked.
"Yes."
For the first time since I'd met him, something like pain flickered across his face. Before I could process it, he scooped me into his arms and cradled me as though I could break.
I stiffened against his hold.
What...?
"Then this is enough," he murmured into my hair.
His hold on me tightened, firm but gentle, as if he were afraid I might slip away.
I lay there, waiting. Expecting something more. But nothing came.
Just silence.
Just warmth.
I could still feel him, hard against me, but he made no move to press forward. There was only the steady rise and fall of his breathing. And his fingers absently tracing my back as though committing me to memory.
"Uh, Your Majesty, will you not be leaving?" I asked at last.
"How bold you are to chase your sovereign out," he chuckled against my hair.
"No, I... You did hear me, did you not?"
"Of course."
"Then why are you still here?" I hesitated. "I already told you, I cannot give you an heir. And I cannot bed you either. You should—"
"I like this, though."
He exhaled against me, his embrace tightening.
"Believe it or not, Raine, but one does grow tired of their duties after a while. I don't mind staying just like this. I do not need more."
Something in my chest ached at his words.
"You... you wish to stay with me even though I cannot bed you?"
He nodded against me.
"It's soothing as we are," he admitted.
His fingers curled slightly against my waist.
"I can't explain it, but when I think about letting you go," he whispered, "I have the worst feeling... as if I could lose something important."
My heart faltered.
I should have felt triumphant. After all, if he cared for me, I could use it against him.
But instead, I felt at an even greater disadvantage.
Hate me, please, I wanted to beg him. Despise me as much as I do you.
"What have you done to me?" Sylvos whispered, his voice soft. "I've never felt like this before... Have you enchanted me?"
My eyes burned.
I hated him.
I hated him for what he'd done to me. For what he'd taken from me. And for making this difficult even after everything.
But exhaustion pressed against me, heavier than his embrace.
And like that, I fell asleep.
In the arms of my worst enemy.
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