Chapter Twenty-One #2
“I was curious about your Enchantra. If it’s not impolite to ask?” I ask the group, shifting on Domanikk’s lap.
“Ask away, my love.” Domanikk traces his finger in swirls over my thigh, occasionally dipping dangerously close between my legs. The distraction makes me pause, but I continue.
“I’ve noticed the various colours. Are they tied to your herds or something else?”
“Good question, clever girl.” Domanikk steals a quick kiss. “Viveen, you’re probably the most knowledgeable about Equitae history.”
“I’m not sure about that, but I’ll try. Our Enchantra was bestowed on us by the Goddess Terra to keep Kaladia safe.
Beyond general enhancements like faster healing and longer lives, each Enchantra significantly enhances our natural abilities.
Blue for Strength, Yellow for Speed, Green for Stamina, and Purple for Spirit.
Within each Enchantra, there can also be extra powers beyond the obvious, which is rare but makes those Equitae incredibly powerful. ”
“That’s fascinating. Thank you for explaining, Viveen.
” I smile at her warmly, genuinely grateful for her patience.
I’m embarrassed by how much I don’t know about the Equitae—their history, customs, and way of life.
I’m ignorant of even the most basic facts about their culture, making assumptions and filling gaps with my limited understanding.
“You weren’t taught this as a child?”
“We’re not taught anything about the Equitae except that they’re brutal savages,” I admit, feeling a little like one of those ‘uneducated heathens’ Domanikk mentioned.
“Nothing? We learn very early about your kind and Kaladia’s history.” Viveen says.
Rawson’s words come out clipped, each one sharp and deliberate. “That bastard King doesn’t want the Earthbound to know the truth.” His voice drops low. “Keep them ignorant—that’s his motto. That’s your history, it belongs to you.”
“I’m afraid we must leave this riveting conversation if we’re not going to be late for the meeting,” Domanikk breaks the tension, grabbing my waist and lifting me to my feet as he rises.
We head back towards what I’m coming to know as Heartwood’s centre.
“What’s the Gathering?” I ask Viveen as we walk.
“It sounds so official when you say it like that. It’s mostly food and fun for those in Heartwood who need it—mainly those without families and newly matured Equitae looking for mates. It’s a custom from our time of freedom before The Corruption.”
“So, a party?”
“Pretty much.” She laughs.
“Dancing and debauchery,” Domanikk adds with a wink, coming up behind me, snaking his arm around my waist, hand splayed across my stomach. “Hey Viv, can you keep Alaya entertained while we’re at the meeting?”
“My pleasure,” she purrs, winking at me. Heat floods my cheeks.
When we reach the centre green, Domanikk and Rawson join the already-gathered Equitae near Reth’s tent, while Viveen, Samwell, and I linger on the outskirts. They chat amongst themselves, mainly about other Equitae I don’t know.
I’m distracted, shooting looks towards the meeting. It appears heated—tense stances, raised voices, and a general air of dissatisfaction.
The sky transforms into cooling gradients, and shadows creep into the surrounding forest as day turns to early evening by the time the meeting breaks up. Equitae arrive from deeper within Heartwood, and the fire is lit as Domanikk rejoins us.
“Did you miss me, darling?” he whispers, leaning down to brush a light kiss to my cheek. I pull away and his deep growl vibrates against my ear.
When I don’t reply, his lips tighten, and he grips me by my elbow to lead me to where a large group is gathering.
A big pot hangs over the roaring fire, releasing a delicious smell of meat and vegetables.
Loaves of bread, cheeses, various fruits and vegetables, and other delights spread across a long wooden table to the left, with chairs arranged around it and a larger wooden chair at the centre of one of the longer sides.
His arrival shifts the air—there’s a palpable awareness, a sudden change in atmosphere. The low hum of activity and chatter quietens, a tense wave of anticipation ripples across the crowd.
Reth walks to the larger chair, oozing with confidence, Ceira taking the seat to his left. Those gathered sit down and another Equitae starts ladling stew from the pot above the fire, handing bowls out to be distributed. It’s a relaxed, informal meal shared amongst the group.
Domanikk starts to lead me towards the table when Reth gestures for quiet.
“Wait. I wish to speak with the captive.”
Domanikk’s eyes snap to Reth, his jaw tightening.
A muscle jumps in his cheek. Reth simply nods his head towards the empty chair to his right.
My chest constricts. The air stops halfway down my throat.
Cold sweeps through me as Domanikk let’s me go, leaving me to stand alone.
Reth’s eyes lock onto mine—unwavering, narrowed to slits beneath his furrowed brow—his jaw set and unsmiling.
All eyes on me feel like prickles poking my skin.
Domanikk takes his seat beside Reth, his gaze fixed on me, narrowed and hard.
“We received word today from your King. It seems he’s not overly concerned with your wellbeing, sending back his own terms for negotiation.”
I feel a stab of hurt swirl with growing temper as his stare searches my face for a reaction.
I’m made to stand here alone, in the spotlight of their attention, while I’m told there’s no immediate rescue coming—no doubt a cruel, calculated plan designed to break me.
My resolve surges, the pleasant afternoon forgotten.
I stare back at him with defiance. His mouth twitches with irritation, and he shifts, lounging back into his chair. A wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Since you’ll be with us for a while, you’ll make yourself useful. Encourage me not to simply slit your throat.”
I swallow my rising fear, keeping the emotion from my face.
“Each night at the Gathering, you’ll provide me with useful information about your Court and your King—even about that arsehole of a husband of yours, if you like. You give me information I can use against them, and you live another day. Defy me, and you’ll be punished.”
What information could I possibly provide? I’m a nobody, little more than a commodity—a means to an end for the King.
My anger rises now, a roaring wave of churning emotions that threatens to consume everything in its path.
It builds from deep within, layer upon layer of suppressed rage finally breaking free.
I won’t be used again, craftily moulded into his image with no concern for me, twisted and shaped to fit his expectations while my own needs are dismissed as irrelevant.
My sense of self stripped away, piece by piece, until I barely recognise the hollow shell staring back at me in the mirror.
King Malaxor took everything that made me who I was and replaced it with his own vision.
I won’t—can’t—let that happen again. The only one who bothered to look beyond the lies painted on my skin, who saw the truth beneath the facade his father forced upon me, is now my fuel for strength.
His quiet acceptance of who I really am burns bright within me like an unquenchable flame.
This is for you, Kiernan.
“No!”
“No?”
“No, sir,” and I flash him the sweetest smile I can muster.
A tiny flicker of intrigue crosses his face before his ice-blue eyes glow bright, his lips thin and tight.
“Punishment it is,” he replies, his self-satisfied smile rising.
He leans down to his right and says something to Domanikk, who shoots me a pointed glance that slowly rises to a smirk as Reth nods.
“We’re lacking evening entertainment. Take off those clothes,” Reth orders.
My mouth opens slightly, not quite believing what I heard.
When I don’t comply immediately, a low growl rises in his throat.
“Now!”
My anger turns to hot tears as I step out of the leather boots, untie and pull the shirt over my head, and pull the trousers down over my hips to pool at my feet.
Though I’ve spent more time here without clothes than in them, I cover my breasts and middle with my arms, their embrace a comfort.
“Music, Tahani,” he calls down the table. A black-haired, purple-eyed Equitae at the far end reaches down beside his seat and picks up an unusual-looking flute with strings strung down its front. As he begins to play, a soft, rhythmic melody floats in the air.
“Dance for me, Alaya,” Reth says from below his furrowed brows, sneering at me.
The humiliation sets my body on fire, a burning sensation that creeps up from my chest and spreads across my skin.
Heat rushes to my cheeks as I begin swaying slowly to the music, moving almost mechanically to the rhythm.
My arms are still clutched tight around myself, a protective barrier that shields nothing from the dozens of eyes I can feel boring into me.
Every slight movement feels exaggerated and awkward, like my limbs don’t quite belong to me anymore.
“You can do better than that. Entertain us,” Reth drawls, his lips curling into a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I reluctantly bring my arms up to sway and put more effort into my movements, forcing myself to follow through with each gesture even though every fibre of my being wants to stop. The quicker he’s entertained, the quicker this ends, I tell myself. I just need to get through this.
I look to Domanikk for reassurance, for some sign that this will end soon, that everything will be okay.
But fresh, hot tears well in my eyes when I see the lustful leer on his face, the way his gaze rakes over me with undisguised hunger.
My stomach turns, and I feel a wave of nausea wash over me as I realise there’s no comfort to be found there.
He’s enjoying this.
Most eyes around the table train in on me, their assessing gazes boring below my skin. I close my eyes to block them out and continue swaying.