Bride of the Traitor: A Prophecy of Sisters Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

“By gods bones, what’s just happened here?” Merek growls.

  I shake my head once. “I haven’t a clue, cousin,” I admit on a whisper.

  SYBILLA

  I hear voices somewhere in the distance, and I try to inhale a deep breath, but it ends up being shallow. Forcing my eyes to open, I look around and am surprised to see that I’m lying on a small couch against the wall of Elias’ office.

  Sitting up, I immediately lift my hand to my head and let out a groan at the pain pulsing there.

  One of the old women, the one that I don’t recognize, makes her way toward me and I drop my hand, unable to move, only able to stare at her as she brushes her fingers across my forehead.

  My headache disappears and my breath hitches.

  Witchcraft.

  “What did you find out?” Elias’ voice rumbles throughout the space.

  The witch that I recognize, Aleida, lets out a heavy sigh. “We slipped inside of her memory banks,” she admits.

  I make a noise in the back of my throat, refusing to think about what they could have seen. If their powers are true, then they could find out a hell of a lot about me.

  Things that I don’t want anyone to know, like about that time that I snuck backstage at a Nickelback concert and threw myself at the lead singer. Thankfully, he realized I was a child and sent me on my way.

  “She is not of this world, Your Majesty,” Godiva announces.

  “What is she?” he growls, no doubt feeling disgusted that he stuck his dick in me, repeatedly.

  Sitting up, I throw my legs over the side of the couch, wondering if I would be able to run, then realizing that even if I tried, I wouldn’t get far. Not in this tight as fuck dress, wearing pretty much glorified slippers on my feet.

  “She is human, Your Highness. She is just from a different world,” she explains as if I am not in this room. In fact, they all act as though I do not exist.

  Elias’ eyes shift to me, dragging down to my chest before he turns to the witchy women. “What world is she from then? Explain this to me, immediately,” he demands. He’s holding his body loose, obviously ready for something, though I’m not sure what.

  Godiva, the witch that I don’t recognize, takes a step toward him and places her hand on his chest. She turns toward me, her eyes sparkling purple before she shifts her gaze back to Elias.

  “She is from another world, just as the prophecy has declared. Her world is much different than ours, yet much is the same. It is modern, almost futuristic, beyond anything that can be described, yet her sisters are just as the prophecy depicted. They all look completely different from one another, their main characteristics causing them to not look related at all. They share none of the same hair color, eye color, or even similar heights and weights.”

  “Witch,” Elias booms. “Tell me the dangers that me and my people are in.”

  Aleida shakes her head, taking a step forward. “There are no dangers that we can see, Your Majesty. If the sisters unite, we do not know what will befall our lands. They may never find one another. In fact, I cannot feel if they are even all here or not. What I can say is that Sybilla is human, she is from another world and though I do not understand much of her world that I have seen through her memories, I can tell you that she is not dangerous and I cannot feel any magic inside of her.”

  Merek clears his throat, his eyes flicking to me before going back to Elias. “You should keep her in the dungeon, that way there will be no chance of her reuniting with her sisters and fulfilling the prophecy.”

  I can’t suppress the shiver that skates over my entire body at the thought of being locked down inside of that dark, dank dungeon where I woke up just days ago. If it was up to me, I’d never go back there, again. Running, even in this tight dress and these flimsy shoes is beginning to look appealing again.

  “Everybody out,” Elias shouts. I stand to my feet, his eyes cut to me and he narrows his gaze. “Except you,” he growls. “Take the witches to chambers, get them a bath and make sure they are properly fed. We will convene in the evening,” he orders.

  The room quickly empties and I stay rooted in my place as he walks over to the door. He fiddles with it and I assume he’s locking it so that nobody will bother us. I’m not sure what he wants to do, but I’m reeling from the witches’ words.

  A different world.

  A different fucking world.

  I begin to tremble as their words settle inside of me, as they sink into my head. Elias stands in front of me, but I notice that it’s too far away to actually hold me, and it hurts, deeply. Though I know that it shouldn’t, he probably thinks I’m some kind of freak and I feel like one.

  A different world.

  There is a rumble of thunder, then I see a flash of lightning from the corner of my eye. It happens again, then again. In fact, the faster my heart beats, the more often the thunder rolls and lightning strikes.

  “You look ill, Sybilla,” he says, his voice husky and so damn sexy that it should be illegal.

  Lifting my gaze to meet his, I blink at the scar across his eye. “How did you get that scar?” I demand.

  His head rears back, obviously surprised by my question. “I was in battle, about twenty-five years old. A man was coming up my rear, I turned around to defend myself and the coward brought down his dagger, almost taking my eye out,” he explains.

  “Battle. Like for real. This isn’t cosplay, is it?” I ask, my entire body trembling, rain starts to pour outside, it’s almost deafening as it pounds against the roof and walls of the building.

  The realization slams into me. I was just toying with the idea that he was a real warrior, but I didn’t really think that he was, not like this.

  “Sybilla, I know not of the word you speak. But, yes, the battle was very real and the coward was planning on putting his knife in my back to end me right then and there.”

  I lift my hand to my lips, trying not to laugh, but it bubbles out as I stare at him. “It’s not funny, I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  He shakes his head. “No, ‘tis not funny, though when I cut off his head, I laughed a bit, I will admit. However, this is obviously a surprising blow and sometimes we cannot control our reactions.”

  “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “We don’t have witches, we don’t have prophecies, we don’t have any of this in my world. How did I get here? What is happening?” I ask as I sway.

  Elias reaches forward, his fingers wrapping around my biceps to keep me upright. He shakes me slightly, his steel-blue eyes turning indigo right before my own gaze. We don’t have eyes that change color like that either, but I don’t say that aloud. I love the way his eyes change.

  “We will find out more, Sybilla. You must not fret,” he murmurs.

  “Are you going to lock me in your dungeon?” I ask.

  He tilts his head to the side, his eyes searching mine. “The witches assure me that what we have is not brought on by witchcraft. At least not any that you possess, since you apparently possess none in this moment,” he explains. “So, in other words, no I will not be locking you in the dungeon as I’ve grown rather fond of you over the past few days.”

  Elias’ lips tip up into a small grin. My face heats and I know that my cheeks are turning pink at the meaning of his words. “So, I’ll be what? Your mistress?” I ask on a whisper.

  His indigo eyes turn black, almost immediately and he shakes his head in one quick motion. His jaw clenches and I watch as a muscle jumps in his cheek, obviously in anger at my question.

  “You’ll be whatever I say that you are, Sybilla, but that does not mean you are a paramour,” he growls. “You’ll be my wife,” he rasps.

  “Are you insane?” I practically scream.

  His black eyes, though I didn’t think it was possible for them to get darker, they do, and they glitter. He shakes me once, my head whipping back, my neck cracking with the move.

  “I am the King. You will be my Queen and you will never question my sanity again. I am a warrior, a k
night, and a gods damned king, Sybilla,” he snaps.

  “We don’t have any of those in my world,” I whisper. “And usually people date for years before they marry, not days.”

  He dips his head, his mouth so close to mine that I could purse my lips and they would touch his. “You are not in your world, Sybilla and you could be carrying my babe. Therefore, for the sake of a possible heir to the throne, I will not allow tongues to wag that he is a possible bastard. You will marry me on the morrow.”

  He doesn’t say another word. He releases me, pushing me back before he turns and stomps out of the room. I land on my ass on the couch cushion and can do nothing but watch him stalk away from me, wondering what in the fuck has just happened here?

  Chapter Ten

  ELIAS

  Merek walks up to me, I know that it’s him at my back without even turning around. I can feel his ire, his questions, and I know that he is disapproving of what I am going to do with Sybilla.

  “She could be carrying my child, cousin.”

  “Is she the only maiden who could have your babe?” he asks.

  Smirking, I turn around to look at him. “The only that I’m aware of.”

  He shakes his head, his eyes darkening slightly. “You don’t have to marry the thing. She is not aware of our world, apparently. You could put her in the carriage house at the back of the woods.”

  “The house where my father kept his paramour until my mother died? The place that he went to, abandoning my sick mother while she was bedridden?” I ask.

  He dips his chin. “This is not the same. You should marry for political reasons; this woman is of no value to the throne, to the crown.”

  I shake my head once, my irritation at the man that I call family, growing. “She may not hold political value, but there is value in her presence here alone. Whatever powers sent her here, they are not of our world, Merek. To just appear out of thin air, obviously not prepared. This was a sign from the gods, a sign that the prophecy will come to fruition.”

  “All the reason to keep her away and under guard.”

  My lips tip into a small smile. Merek is a fine knight, a damn good soldier, and a good leader. But he is no strategist.

  “All the more reason to keep her close to me, cousin. For the closer she is, the more I can discover of this prophecy. Do you think me so anchovy lusting that I cannot look at the bigger picture? I will marry her on the morrow, for my people, for my crown, and for the future of Bunafi.”

  Merek gulps, his eyes widening and he curses. “Gods bones, Elias. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I do, and I’m going to have fun doing it as well. She will be so in love with me, soon heavy with my child, that she will not realize that I’m keeping my possible enemy as close as a person can be. As my wife, as my bedmate, as my breeder.”

  Merek chuckles, his eyes glinting with something unreadable, excitement is part of his feelings, no doubt. He loves the hunt, he thrives on it. I personally would rather fight, finish, and enjoy my prey, but Merek enjoys the chase.

  “Good on you, Elias, just do not forget and get swept up in her charms.”

  I shake my head, my eyes showing him my determination. “No amount of queynte could make me be a traitor to my crown, Merek. I am not an ounce of my father and if you do not realize this, then we have larger issues at hand than some sister fulfilling a prophecy and the fact that she will be my queen.”

  There is a moment of silence, then Merek lifts his gaze to me, his eyes hiding nothing from me. “There is no problem, Elias. I know you are nothing like your sire. You are good, you are a brave soldier and you are loyal not only to your men, but also to your people. In this, I trust you not only as my cousin, but as my king.”

  He could not know. He did not know that the words he had just spoken mean absolutely everything to me. Clearing my throat, I lift my own hand and wrap my fingers around the side of his neck.

  “Thank you, cousin.” We release one another and I take a step back. “Gather my soldiers for a special meeting in our place following the nuptials and feast.”

  “Won’t you be attending your bride?” Merek asks, his brows rising toward the sky.

  I snort. “She will have her attendance when my meeting is concluded. It will be the time for her to understand that she is not more important than any single one of the matters I must attend to. Sybilla will come last, always.”

  We part without saying another word. He promises to gather my men, and I find the cook and the rest of the staff, instructing them to prepare for a small wedding feast tomorrow.

  Thankfully, none are close enough to me to voice their opinion, though they can’t hide the looks of shock on their faces, instead they nod and go about their business. Next, I go in search of Sybilla’s handmaids. Jasmine is the first one that I see and seeing as she is the one in charge, I am thankful.

  “Sybilla will need a wedding gown by the morn. She needs to be prepared first thing tomorrow morning for our nuptials,” I order.

  She blinks, her eyes wide and almost frightened-looking, much like everyone else in this damned castle. “Speak before you expire,” I order.

  She gulps, then looks to her feet before lifting her head and staring at my neck. “Your Majesty, there is no dressmaker in all of Aerilon that will be able to make a dress befitting a queen with such short notice, a month perhaps, but not one evening.”

  I grunt. “Are there any dressmakers that will have something, anything that will fit her and not show off all of her charms as the dresses she currently traipses around in do?”

  Jasmine makes a noise in the back of her throat but doesn’t speak. “I can fetch the royal dressmaker and see what he has, but in all honesty, Your Majesty, we may not be able to make something work. Miss Sybilla is…”

  “What, what is she?” I growl, my patience waning thin on what people think of Sybilla as. None of them know her, not the way that I do.

  Jasmine clears her throat. “She is a bit curvier than other royalty.”

  I press my lips together, careful not to burst out into laughter, for Jasmine is correct. Sybilla is quite a bit curvier than the women who typically grace the world with their titles, at least in Bunafi and the surrounding countries. I find that it’s one of the many reasons I quite enjoy my time with her. Where most royalty are bony things, dainty, almost frail.

  Sybilla is lush, soft, and curvy. She will bear me many children. She will also keep me satisfied in all my appetites. She truly is the perfect match, even if it is only to use her for the purposes that she can and will provide me, all while I keep my country safe and secure.

  “Do the best that you can. We marry on the morrow, with or without a dress,” I snap before I turn around. Instead of going upstairs to enjoy Sybilla’s lush curves, I make my way outside and find my stallion, Storm.

  I need freedom.

  I need to ride with the wind against my face.

  I need to breathe.

  SYBILLA

  Staring out of the window, I’m sure that Elias would demand that I drop the thick drapery, but he isn’t here. In fact, I watch him ride away from the castle on his horse. It’s a beautiful sight, his big black horse. I’ve never seen a horse the size of his before in my life and seeing him riding on its back, my mouth goes dry.

  I stay there. Ignoring the chill long after Elias and his strong horse disappear. I wait for him to return, and as the sun sets, I wonder if he will indeed come back. Then as the minutes pass, I know deep in my bones that he won’t, at least not tonight.

  There is something simplistic about this place. People don’t venture out after dark falls. There are no streetlights for the roads, there is only the moonlight. It’s the darkest I’ve ever seen outside, darker than any pitch black that I’ve ever experienced and I have a hard time believing that Elias could see his hand in front of his face, let alone the road.

  “Milady,” a soft voice calls.

  Turning around, I drop the drapery and see all t
hree of my girls standing before me. Once again, I’m in the Queen’s chamber, which means I’ve been left alone, guarded and locked away for hours, pitying myself. If Elias is not here, with me, I know that he is with someone and I have a feeling a man like him is with another woman.

  I shouldn’t care. I’m not his wife. I’m not his anything. I’m just his captive, or whatever I am. But I can’t deny that my heart clenches with pain at the thought of him fucking some other woman. I hate myself a little for that, hate my heart for feeling anything for him.

  Stockholm syndrome is a fucking bitch. I don’t care that these witches think I’m in some other world, they’re all fucking crazy. Completely too invested in this little game that they’re playing. I’ve been dick drunk on Elias, too drunk to realize that I’m fucking up my life each minute that I play into their hands—into his hands.

  “C’mon in.” I smile, lifting my hand and motioning to the women.

  Jasmine has a large bundle of fabric in her hands and I hurry over to help her rid herself of the load.

  “What’s this?” I ask as I help her guide the material over to the bed.

  We set down the fabric and she looks down, then looks up to me before taking a step back. “I’ve just been with the royal dressmaker and he’s given me all that he has that would be close to your sizing and suitable for your nuptials,” she stammers.

  I blink. My eyes widen before I blink again. I’m sure that I’ve heard her wrong. There has to be some kind of language barrier and I don’t understand her words. Granted, they have funny accents here, but I can pretty much understand everything anyone says, but this must be some kind of mistake.

  “My what?” I whisper.

  Ellyn is the one to speak first. “Your marriage to King Elias, milady. It will take place first thing in the morning, so we’ve been preparing all evening,” she explains.

  “My what?” I hiss.

  “Oh, dear,” Jasmine breathes.

  “Aren’t you excited?” Katrina asks. “You’re going to be a queen. A true queen. It’s like a fairy tale, and King Elias is so very handsome. Every woman I know fantasizes about him, and all the ones that have had him, long to have him in their beds again. I’ve heard he’s extremely skilled. He is, isn’t he?” she asks.