by Jill Myles
No one approached her. They watched her, and a few gave her the forehead-touch of respect, but for the most part they kept their distance from the crying, half-dressed princesse. It suited Seri just fine. Once she was able to breathe deeply and compose herself, she glanced back at the castle. The heavy wooden door was shut, and one of Graeme’s guardsmen stood a safe distance behind her, watching over her.
He would not follow her into the sun, then. Fine. Part of her was oddly disappointed that their chase had ended like this, but she didn’t care. Let him sit in that castle, a prisoner. Let him starve. She’d tried to care for him, and he’d pushed her away.
The stables at the edge of the courtyard caught her eye, and she found herself wandering in that direction, the lovely silken skirts of her gown dragging in the dirt. Perhaps Meluoe was awake and sitting with the kittens. She needed someone to talk to, to sort all the anger and frustration in her head out.
Just before she could enter the barn, though, a hand grasped her elbow and pulled her aside. “We need to talk.”
Seri gasped as she recognized the voice and stared into Rilen’s angry eyes.
Chapter Ten
“Unhand the princesse,” the guard called behind her, jogging forward with his hand on his sword-belt.
“It’s all right,” Seri blurted out, shaking her head. “I’m fine.” Her heart hammered at the sight of Rilen, dressed in the borrowed uniform of one of the Athoni guardsmen. He was thinner than the last time she saw him, his hair dirty and hollows under his eyes.
The guard hesitated for a moment longer, torn. He took a step back, watching Seri. “I shall be right here if you need me, my lady.”
She nodded at him and let Rilen lead her into the barn, scarcely able to breathe her heart was pounding so loudly.
As soon as the heavy stable door shut behind them, Rilen was on her, his hands on her neck and kissing her with all the wild intensity that she remembered. His mouth pressed against hers, his tongue seeking to part the seam of her lips.
It was like being kissed by a stranger. Her aura didn’t flare at the touch, and when his hands swept to her shoulders and he pressed her against the door, she let him, feeling strangely detached as he tried to devour her body. His mouth was rough on hers and the wood against her back dug splinters into her skin through the thin gown.
Graeme would never treat you so roughly, came the unwanted thought. She forced it out of her mind, feeling like a traitor, and slid out of Rilen’s grasp. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see you.” He laughed against her skin, then pressed another careless kiss on her mouth. “What are you doing out here dressed like that?” He pulled on the neckline of the gown where it gaped.
“Nothing,” she said, trying to pry away from him. “I was… heading back inside the castle to sleep.”
“Sleep? At noon?” He laughed again, a high, giddy noise that died when he brushed the long hair off her shoulder and revealed the bruise on her neck.
Seri tried to jerk away, but he pushed her hair aside, then cursed, running his thumb along the bruise and puncture marks. “What happened?”
Just that small caress sent a shiver of remembrance through her body, and her aura flicked with longing at the thought of Graeme. Seri averted her eyes. “An accident.”
“Something bit you.” His eyes narrowed. “What was it?”
The embarrassed flush continued to creep up her face. “It’s nothing.” Her fingers grasped his arm, clenching. “Rilen, what are you doing here? If they see you dressed like one of the guards—”
“I came to see you.” He tried to press another kiss on her mouth, but she jerked away. He scowled. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you?” She pushed at his chest when he tried to embrace her again. “You killed Kiane!”
“I didn’t – the others got carried away.” He shrugged. “These things happen in war, Seri.”
“We’re not at war, Rilen. We lost, remember? The Athonites won every battle.”
“Not at war, yet. Be patient.” His eyes gleamed with a fervent light. “Things are at work.”
“Things are at work?” She snapped. “Are these things so time consuming that you left my father and Josdi to starve? You abandoned them when I trusted you to care for them, Rilen!”
He said nothing, but the gleam in his eyes told her that he wasn’t sorry. “I was checking on them, Seri. It’s just that…these things take time.”
He said it as casually as if she’d asked about how the crops were growing. It made her sick to her stomach. He showed no remorse for abandoning her family. Worse, the fact that he was here meant Rilen and Jovis had truly not been punished for their crimes. She had known it would happen, and yet…she had hoped her people would do the right thing. They were not the only ones blinded by age-old hatreds.
She was suddenly exhausted from all of this. No one was acting reasonable – not Athonite, not Vidari, no one. Seri pressed a weary hand to her forehead where it throbbed with exhaustion. “Go home, Rilen. I’m tired.”
“Are my kisses not good enough for you now that you’re whoring for one of the Athonites?” His hands grasped her upper arms brutally hard and she flinched. “Are you sleeping with him?”
“What did you think would happen when I married him?”
“I thought you’d kill him,” Rilen snapped. “That was the plan.”
“I tried.”
“You must not have tried hard enough,” he said coldly. “Or was it that you secretly wanted to marry one of those bastards? Ensure yourself a husband with a fat purse no matter if he’s Athonite or Vidari. Is that it?”
To her horror, tears began to pool in her eyes. “You don’t understand.”
His fingers dug into her skin. “Tell me, then. Tell me so I understand.” Gone was the laughing recklessness, replaced by a quiet wildness in his eyes that frightened her. “Tell me that you’re all right.”
“I’m fine,” she admitted. “It’s complicated, Rilen.”
“Is he keeping your family captive? Is that why he took them from the village with a contingent of his soldiers?”
“What? No.” Seri tried to wriggle free from his painful grasp. “He didn’t steal them from the village. I asked for him to bring them.”
A hint of his old cheer was back. “Then you’re a genius, Seri. Everyone thinks he’s stolen them away and that he’s keeping you all locked up in the castle, unable to escape him.”
“That’s not true—”
“Who cares if it’s true or not?” Rilen said. “The important thing is that we can use it against him for the uprising.”
A sick feeling twisted in her stomach. “Uprising?” She didn’t like the look in his eyes.
“It’s what we’ve been working toward for so long, and it’s finally coming to fruition,” he said, his eyes vivid. “Everyone is furious that the Athonites would dare to steal you and your family away and that he’d force you to marry him. This is just the catalyst we need to unite our people. I’ve been going to the other towns, sending out riders. Giving them weapons. We have a blacksmith two villages away who has been creating spears for us.”
She listened in numb horror as he spoke, his eyes alight with a fervent light.
“They’ve been coming into the village by the hundreds, Seri. I’ve heard the last of the wild clans should be arriving within a few days. Once they do, we attack the palace and take our homeland back.”
“Wait, no—” Her throat closed up on the words. “Rilen, it’s too dangerous.” If he failed, he’d wipe out their people for sure. The Athonites would not rest until the Vidari were destroyed to a man.
But if he succeeded…
Oh, Graeme. The sad thought was like a sigh in her mind.
Rilen was oblivious to her sadness, the anger carrying him forward. “He dresses you up like one of them, but you’re not. It’s obvious. The spies we have in the household say you cry in your bed.” He t
ouched her cheek gently. “I know you’re frightened, but don’t worry. I leave tomorrow for Uday and there we’ll meet up with the rest of the army we’ve gathered. We’ll free you from him soon.”
Free her? At the cost of Graeme’s death? What of Meluoe, who would surely be trapped in the castle? Of the servants who had gone out of their way to try to make her comfortable? She had brought them nothing but misery and pain, and now she’d be their destruction… theirs or her people’s.
The hysterical laugh bubbled in her throat. “Rilen, wait, please—”
He lifted a lock of her hair in wonder. “Seri. You’re glowing?”
Her aura had flared as she thought of Graeme, the color the pale blue of sadness. “It’s the betrothal,” she said softly. “I am linked to him. My emotions, my thoughts…” She paused, then lifted her eyes to Rilen’s face. “My body.”
His hand lifted, cracked her across the mouth and knocked her head against the wall. Pain bloomed, as sharp and fierce as the pain in her heart. She didn’t struggle to shield herself, but he was done after the one blow.
“Tell me what you mean,” he raged, tears in the rasp of his voice. “You married him willingly?”
“Not by choice,” she said, her mouth thick and raw against her teeth. Guilt overwhelmed her, guilt at betraying her people and betraying the love Rilen felt for her. “I’m sorry,” she said, touching her lip where it bled and letting her own tears fall. “It’s not what you think, Rilen.”
“What is it, then? What am I supposed to think? Do you tell me that he has not touched you?” His face was in hers, his angry eyes inches away from her own. “You were supposed to be mine.”
And what about me, what I want? She wanted to shout it to the world around her, but she found herself speaking instead in that dully quiet voice. “They are not like us, the Athonites, Rilen. Their nobility is called the Blood, and they must sleep during the daytime and avoid the daylight because it robs them of their strength.”
“No sunlight?” He shook his head, clearly not understanding where she was going. “I don’t understand—”
“They do not have female children, not the way that you or I do. They can only have female children with a chosen mate, a gods-chosen mate called an Eterna, who glows with an aura when she is chosen, and her body is attuned with her Blood-mate.” She touched her neck. “Both of their bodies are filled with a strange need to be together, even if they do not like each other. And he… he can only drink from her to survive.” Her voice rose to a high, wild note. “And there will be children, I imagine. Little children with long, sharp teeth like their father, who must feed from others to survive.”
Rilen stared at her, aghast. His eyes flicked to her throat. “You mean…”
“The stories are true. The legends are true.” Her voice was dull with pain, but oh, it felt so good to share with someone who understood how she felt, even though sharing this with Rilen felt wrong, felt like a terrible betrayal. “The Blood must drink from others. He has drunk from my throat.”
He backed away from her, revolted. “You have let him do that to you? You let him… feed… from you?”
She slumped against the wall, feeling boneless at the release. “Not by choice, Rilen. None of this was my choice.”
Even that felt like a lie. She had gone to him only minutes ago, begged for his touch. That was not the curse of the Eterna—that was simply her, wanting her husband’s love. Wanting to prove that he cared for her.
The realization struck her harder than Rilen’s hand. Dear gods above her, she was in love with her husband. Her strange, frightening foreign stranger of a husband. What could she do now?
Rilen stared at her with a terrible look in his eyes. “Why didn’t you kill him on your wedding night?”
She didn’t want to admit to Rilen that she was a coward—a weak, silly coward. “I tried,” she protested. “I wasn’t strong enough.”
“I will kill him for you. I will free you from him.”
She shook her head, silent. She didn’t want that. Not anymore. Dear gods, she was terrified of what Rilen would do. He reached for her again, and she flinched.
“Come away with me, Seri,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Let me take you away from here, on the safe side of the uprising. “I’ll take care of this for you.”
She batted away his hand. “I can take care of myself, Rilen. And I won’t leave my family here.”
Or Graeme. She couldn’t say that out loud.
“I see.” His voice was cold and hard. “Then I can trust you not to tell him about the uprising?” At her hesitation he gave her a serious, solemn look. “It would be our death, Seri.”
Guilt washed over her. “I won’t say anything.”
He touched her chin one more time, the look in his eyes torn. “I don’t want to leave you here with him.” His eyes flicked back to her neck in revulsion.
“I can’t leave him,” she said, a sad rasp in her voice. “The betrothal.” A convenient lie for her to fall back on, but she couldn’t tell Rilen that she’d gone and fallen in love with the prince. She just couldn’t hurt him that way.
He nodded and ducked his head, slipping out the door and leaving Seri alone inside the stable, tears welling up in her eyes. Alone, she was able to release the tears that threatened.
A rustling noise caught her ear, and she hastily brushed away her tears, staring as a figure moved in the back of the stable. Someone had been listening to her?
The sound of a kitten mewling touched her ears, and Seri stared into the accusing blue eyes of Graeme’s sister.
Chapter Eleven
Seri took her time returning to the castle, knowing what would be waiting for her. She meandered in the courtyard, desperately wanting to see Rilen again, to tell him that Meluoe knew of his plans and that now Graeme would too. And that hopefully she could stop this crazy war before it was too late.
Still, when no one came to drag her back to the thick stone walls of the keep, she eventually returned to her rooms, waiting to see if Graeme would meet her there. He did not. Worried, Seri let Idalla fuss over her, taking a long, cool bath and washing her hair.
“What happened to your lip, my lady?” Idalla’s face was worried. “Did someone… did someone bother you?” Her face whitened. “Shall I fetch the prince’s guards?”
Seri shook her head, feeling like the worst kind of liar. “It’s nothing, Idalla. One of the… horses accidentally reared back and hit me. That is all.” The lie came to her easily, and the servant seemed to believe it, fussing over Seri as she dressed her in the long, restrictive formal gowns of the Athonites. So lost in thought was she, torn between conflicting emotions, that she almost missed what Idalla said.
“—waiting for you.”
Seri shook her head and gave Idalla a faint smile as the servant twisted her hair into a braid. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” Her hands nervously tugged at the high collar of the gown as it itched under her chin, rubbing the spot on her neck raw.
“The prince has asked for you to have dinner with him this evening.” She grinned. “Insisted on it. If I had to guess, he’s missing your company, mistress.”
You’d miss your guess, Seri wanted to say but forced a wan smile to her cheeks. “Thank you, Idalla. You’re very kind.”
“Not kind, mistress.” The woman seemed puzzled. “You’ve helped me out so much, I cannot thank you enough. My world is much better now that you’re in it.” She beamed with pride.
At least that is one, Seri thought darkly, and smoothed her damp palms along the shimmering, itching fabric of her dress. Briefly, she longed for one of the thin, cool shifts she used to wear to plow fields. How different she seemed from that girl now. “I’m ready,” she said quietly. Ready to face her fate. She smiled at Idalla and reached over and clasped her hands. “And I am glad to have you in my life as well, my friend.”
The maid’s eyes teared up. “You are too kind to a mere servant, lady.”
“And so were you,
once upon a time.” Seri smiled.
The maid offered to lead her down the myriad paths of the castle to where Graeme was waiting for her, and Seri agreed. The gown swished around her legs as she walked, feeling heavy and uncomfortable. The fabric was shot through with gold thread, and the servants had exclaimed over the beauty of it—and the slenderness of Seri’s figure without the corset. To them, she was daring rebellion, setting a clever trend.
How funny that she had fought over the clothing when she had first arrived here, as if that had mattered. As if choosing to wear a corset or not could change how the world would play out.
The soft sound of laughing voices carried through the halls, and Idalla led Seri to the chamber, one she had been to before, days ago when this whole thing started. The maidservant opened the double doors and bowed, and Seri entered alone.
The dining hall was full of the Blood and their companions. Athoni nobles lined the elegant tables, and women laughed merrily, taking dainty bites of food as they gossiped with their partners. The plates of some of the men were empty, Seri noticed, but they drank from dark red goblets that held an ominous liquid. She knew what it was now.
Seated at the head of the table, pale and wan in a sea of white faces, sat Graeme, lording over all. Her heart skittered in her chest at the sight of him. No plate sat in front of him, no wineglass of blood. The seat next to him was empty.
Across from him, her eyes accusing, Meluoe stared at Seri. Next to her sat her mother, and after her, Lady Mila.
Graeme’s eyes flicked to her figure, but he did not get up. The cheerful laughter died, but the whispers continued. As she stood in the doorway, she watched Lady Mila lean over to the queen and murmur something behind her hand, and the queen’s gaze sharpened as she regarded Seri.
The urge to run out of the room was overwhelming, but she forced herself to lift her skirts and take small, measured steps like the Athoni women did, crossing the endless hall and approaching the empty seat that was for her. Her body felt encased in ice, her heart slowing. Why, after all that had happened, were they back to this selfsame drawing room where everyone stared at her as if she were a servant dressed up in a noble’s clothes. They went around this circle endlessly, she thought sadly. Every time we make progress, here we are back at the beginning, eyeing each other like wary strangers.
