Chapter 27 #2
I took a place the farthest I could from him. The hot spring was rimmed with seating inside for the king’s comfort, the waterline hitting right above my breasts. Under the weight of everyone’s watchful gazes, I felt like an exotic fish trapped in a tiny pond for those to ogle.
“Wife.” He smirked, enjoying the large audience. “Aren’t you going to come wash me? It is part of the ritual to clean each other . . . plus, I am your lord and master now.”
Bile sat in the back of my throat, my fingers rolling into balls.
“You are not my lord . . . or master,” I snapped, speaking before I thought. “You are my jailor.”
He grinned, propping his leg on the seat he was on, making sure I noticed his size under the water. “I think you will be saying differently by the end.”
King Helvig kept himself in shape, was undeniably a handsome man, but nothing about him attracted me.
I grabbed a sponge put out for me and scrubbed Brynden’s dried blood still crusting my arm from the attack. My “bath” last night when Onyx found me was more a dip, not actually cleaning anything.
“Let me do that.” He moved over to me, ripping the sponge from my fingers, lowering it to my breasts.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered roughly, reaching for the sponge.
Fury flashed over his face, his hand grabbing my hair, slamming my head into the stone rim, pain and stars bursting behind my lids.
“You will obey me, wife,” he seethed, his mouth an inch away, snarling in my ear.
“You are my property. Everything about you I own now.” He reached down, cupping his hand between my legs crudely.
“And soon with my cum inside you and my mark on you, the whole world will know I possess the White Raven.” Tears burned in my throat, his other hand pressing my skull against the stone so hard I could feel it slice into my scalp.
“Don’t ever embarrass me again in front of people.
” He struck my head against the stone again. “You got that?”
“Your majesty?” A man’s voice came through, a twinge of worry threaded in it. “It’s nearing three a.m. . . .”
Huffing through his nose, King Helvig stepped back, releasing me. His glower remained on me as I slumped against the side, biting back the sob choking my throat.
“Yes.” He rolled back his shoulders, his attention out to the crowd, motioning for someone. “Let’s start the ritual.”
His thralls grouped around the stairs as he rose out of the spring, wrapping him in his robe.
Solvi was the one who had kept the king supplied with drink last night.
Now he glanced at me with an almost imperceptible nod.
He had interrupted on purpose. It was the second time he had saved me from King Helvig’s abuse.
Meya motioned for me to follow, a frown on her face, reminding me more and more of Elvina. It wasn’t they were alike; it was because both women understood who they answered to, who was in charge. And it wasn’t me.
The drums started again as I ascended out of the water. Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I numbly stood like a doll while Meya and Hedda dropped the sheath over me, the fabric clinging to my wet body, my bones shivering not from the cold, but from fear.
My chest and throat hummed with energy, wrapping around my throat like I could feel his hand on me, feel his attention somewhere close by, dominating everything.
“I feel your every fucking breath. I’m so aware of you, I can’t fucking think straight. And I want it to end. I didn’t know it would be like this.”
Would I no longer feel Onyx or care about him, once the king replaced his tattoo?
It was something I desired—needed—because I no longer wanted to feel this link to him.
To be consumed with thoughts of him even though he was my enemy.
It was safer for me if there was nothing to tie us together, no connection that let him feel me.
I needed to be free of all bindings if I wanted to survive.
Following the king, my handmaidens escorted me up to the platform, handing me over to two huge, broad figures.
Dressed in black robes, faces covered in full black masks, their daunting presence on either side of me twisted dread into my bones.
Leading me to the altar, the king took a seat on the charcoal-black throne positioned on the dais. A smaller one was placed next to his.
My seat. The one marked for the White Raven, soon to be the Night Queen.
Morrigan hummed and sang up to the sky, her arms stretched up, calling on Huginn and Muninn.
Rune stones were spread out before her, along with an inkwell, needles, blades, and jars holding items I couldn’t identify.
Candles blazed over the altar, dripping fresh wax, coating the slab in a sheen.
Everything sparkled like the moon and stars, as though we had stolen them and shined them in mockery back at the empty heavens.
“Move.” A grunt spoke in my ear, spreading a shiver down my back, the hooded figures prodding me forward to the slab.
The drums mimicked the thunder in my chest, all eyes on me as Morrigan’s chant grew louder.
Picking up a blade, the figure behind me clutched my arm, holding it out to the seeress.
“Blood of the White Raven, guide us forward. Show us the future. The gifts of this union.”
Pain sliced over my palm, the tip of the blade cutting through the skin. A gasp hitched up my throat, and I flinched as blood trailed down my hand, splattering over the runes in the bowl.
“Blood of the White Raven, reveal your powers to the gods! Giving dominion to the rightful ruler!” Morrigan swirled the bowl of runes, coating each of them with my blood. Silence claimed the space, anticipation holding in a breath. She let them fall over the altar, scattering across the surface.
“This can’t be.” Morrigan muttered, her head snapping to me in fear and confusion, almost accusatory.
“What? What do they say?” The king eagerly rose from his seat.
“Let me try again, my lord.” She gathered them up into a bowl before he could see them. She hummed and chanted, mixing them again, her shoulders tense as she released the runes.
Bile scorched the back of my throat. Once again, all were turned down.
Blank.
“What is this?” Gavric frowned, his voice tight. “What does this mean?”
“I—I don’t know, my lord.” She stumbled over her words, but her narrowed eyes were on me. Suspicion calculated in her light irises.
“You fool!” he barked. “You did something wrong! Do it again!”
“Majesty, I—”
“Do it again!” he bellowed, his face turning red, feeling all attention on him, the murmuring in the crowd buzzing louder.
“Maybe the gods seek your blood with hers.” Morrigan bowed her head, scooping up the runes into the bowl. “It will help center our intent.”
“Yes, fine,” he snapped, holding out his hand. The blade shook in her grip as she cut into his palm, his blood dripping and mixing with mine.
I hadn’t noticed the masked guard’s hand still pressed to my lower back until it balled up into my smock, emanating anger against my spine, a small growl only I could hear.
“Huginn and Muninn, please guide our future as the messengers of the realm. Confirm the king’s future, leading us all into a better empire.” Morrigan took a deep breath. Time slowed as she scattered them over the table, the stones bouncing and skidding, finally stopping on their resting place.
All were blank, except one, his blood coating the rune.
“Isa.” Morrigan muttered. “The rune for ice, symbolizing danger and impediment.”
“What?” King Helvig’s voice strangled, his feet stirring. “What impediment?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You are fucking useless! Do it again. You did it wrong.”
“That’s not how—”
He seized her throat, a choking sound coming from her.
“I. Said. Again,” he seethed into her face, shoving her back into the table.
“Of course, my liege,” she wheezed, biting back her cry of pain. She cupped the jar, repeating her actions, asking a similar question.
The runes were tossed out.
All blank but one.
His hand whipped out, slapping Morrigan across the face, the crack ricocheting off the glass mirrors, repeating the action as though a thousand hands had hit her, dropping her to the floor with a cry.
“Put her here!” he ordered the men holding me, motioning at the altar. Hands seized me as the other man tied leather straps to each corner.
“What are you doing?” Panic swirled in my voice. The masked figure retaining me grabbed my wrists. “No!” I struggled against his hold, ramming my elbow back into his stomach. A grunt huffed from him, his grip tightening.
“Stop fighting me.” The low gravelly tone plunged down my body, my mark stinging with heat. I went still, as the collision of hope and betrayal assassinated that last bit of na?vety.
Onyx.
The contradiction of his warm physique against mine, his huge size and strength making me believe he was my protector, when in truth he was my assailant, chaining me to the table.
It was the moment I realized how truly alone I was.
No one was coming for me. No one stood on my side except me.
I was at the whim of a temperamental king, with only my title to protect me.
Yet it was the reason I would die.
Onyx easily lifted me up onto the table, the other man snatching my ankles. Hissing and thrashing, I kicked at my captors, fighting with every ounce I could.
“Stop wasting your energy,” Onyx’s deep voice growled in my ear.
“Screw you.” Baring my teeth, I bit into his arm, the skin splitting open.
“Faen!” he hissed under the mask. His shoulders went back, his grip on me tightening, strapping my arms down to the table as the other man cinched my ankles, spreading me out as a sacrifice.
At the edges of my vision, the king reached for the ink jar and needle. The drums picked up a quicker tempo, my breath heaving in and out when he stood over me.
“I hereby mark you as mine. You will obey me, bow to me, and through the blood bond—grant me your magic.”