Bride of the Traitor: A Prophecy of Sisters Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  I could, as Merek suggests, lock her in the dungeon and ensure that the prophecy never comes to fruition without issue. However, my stomach clenches and my chest aches at the thought of not sleeping and waking beside Sybilla each day.

  I feel as though I’m under a spell, even though the witches have given their word that I am indeed, not.

  “Your Majesty, you called?” Aleida asks, clearing her throat.

  Turning my head, I look over my shoulder at the two old witches. They are standing side by side, my chancery door closed behind them.

  The great hall and dining rooms are being prepared for the wedding and this is a room where I know we will not be overheard, a room that I know without a doubt is private.

  “This marriage, can you see if it will be fruitful?” I ask before I turn completely around to face them.

  “Are you asking if we can see your babes?” Godiva asks.

  I stare at them, lifting my chin, but otherwise not answering them verbally.

  “We do not see the future, Your Majesty. What we can do is sense things, possibly see memories, cast spells, but we are not seers,” Aleida informs me.

  I shake my head once. “What do you sense?”

  Godiva is the one who takes a step forward. “Your new bride is terrified. Not only of this wedding, but of this world, and of her quick feelings for you. And you, Your Highness, you are just as terrified as she about your quick feelings for the lovely woman, are you not?”

  “You think that you sense my fear, witch?”

  Godiva takes a step toward me, not intimidated by my ire in the least. She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. I watch as she closes her eyes, then her lips twitch in a smile before her gaze meets my own.

  “Terrified, Your Majesty. But not of your new wife, of the feelings you already possess toward her. Know that these are not magic, but instead, this is how it feels when the fates align. The prophecy is as much about you as it is her, for the sisters must find their love in the fiercest warriors in the land. You and Sybilla are fated to fall in love, Your Highness. That is not witchcraft, that is a prophecy sent down from the gods millennia ago.”

  I gulp at her words. Shifting my gaze away from her, I blink before I bring my eyes back to meet theirs. She releases my hand and takes a step back.

  “Do not fear the emotions, Your Highness. We know not if the outcome of the prophecy will be good or evil, what we do know is that it will bring about love for you and she is destined, fated, for you,” Aleida states.

  “In just a few moments, she marries me. Love has naught to do with it. Keeping my enemy close does.”

  Neither of the witches object to my statement. Instead, they dip their chins in a nod and take a step back. I watch them for a moment, then turn toward Aleida.

  “I expect you to keep an eye on her at all times and report to me if you sense anything, anything at all, Aleida,” I bark.

  She lifts her chin, then gives me a very small curtsy. “Yes, My King,” she whispers.

  “Do you sense her love for me?” I chance asking.

  Though I know not why I’m even posing the question, for it matters not. Her body burns hot for me, she accepts my seed, she will bear my babes and she will live out her days under my watchful eye.

  The prophecy will never come to fruition, she will simply be known as Queen Sybilla of Bunafi, nothing more, nothing less.

  Aleida drops her gaze. “I sense her fear, her trepidation, but I also sense deep affection that rolls off of her in waves. She is sensitive, Your Majesty, she is also kind of heart. She will be good to you, Your Highness.”

  I almost laugh at that. She will be good to me, for I will always command it. “You are dismissed, send in Cornwall and Merek,” I demand.

  The women leave, but not before Godiva lingers for a moment longer. I wait for her to speak, but she doesn’t. Instead, she shakes her head once before she slips from my chancery. Merek and Cornwall arrive immediately.

  I command Merek to come up with a schedule for him and my men. They will know about Sybilla, and her true identity after the wedding feast. I will have one of them with her at all times from here until the day she expires.

  Next, I command Cornwall to write up an agreement between me and the Queen. She must swear her fealty and her loyalty to me, and she must swear that she will never leave this world for her own. I want her to swear this oath to me as her king and more importantly as her husband.

  “Your Majesty,” he begins to object.

  Lifting my hand, I shake my head once. “I do not wish to hear objections. I want it done, and immediately, as I know it is almost time.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he whispers before he takes his leave.

  “You’re marrying her, truly,” Merek mutters.

  Lifting my chin, I take a step toward him. “I am. Keep your enemies close, Merek. It is ingrained in us, this is just a different kind of enemy. You’ll see that this was a wise decision. In the end, I think it will matter not. The prophecy will never come to fruition, the Queen will never be out of sight. She will never see her sisters again, therefore it will never happen and one day, when we’re old and gray, we will all have a good laugh.”

  “I hope you’re right, cousin.”

  “Me too,” I rasp.

  Together we leave the chancery and make our way toward the makeshift altar. The priest is already waiting to marry us, he dips his chin toward me, dressed in his finery. I look as if this is just another day, not bothering to wear any of the traditional groom’s clothing, especially that fit for a king. I simply can’t be bothered.

  There is a gasp. Turning toward the end of the altar, red creeps up my neck and assuredly my face at the sight before me.

  Though she is lovely, my bride insults me.

  The daft woman is dressed all in funeral black.

  My lips twitch as soon as she takes a step toward me. I should be angry. Indeed, I am, but I’m also looking forward to punishing her for this embarrassment, and punish her I will.

  SYBILLA

  He’s smiling, it’s anything but kind looking. In fact, it looks a little twisted. My heart begins to race at the sight as I walk closer and closer toward Elias. Toward my fate, or maybe, my doom.

  He reaches out for me, pulling me closer to him. I fall forward, my body leaning heavily against his as I try to find my footing. He dips his chin, his steel-blue gaze completely focused and entrancing as he stares at me.

  “You’ll be punished for this, Sybilla,” he rasps.

  “For what?” I ask, feigning innocence.

  “Funeral black,” he grunts.

  My lips twitch and I shrug a shoulder as I right myself. The dress is black, but it’s so luxurious that I couldn’t not wear it.

  Instead of velvet, it’s made of a soft silk fabric. The sleeves are long, all the way down to my wrists. It’s not nearly as low cut as the other gowns that I’ve been wearing, but it does dip into a deep-V showing an expanse of chest and cleavage.

  The bodice is tight, laced together with ribbons hidden on the inside at my back, giving me the illusion of an extreme hourglass figure. I can’t deny that although they are uncomfortable, it makes me feel absolutely luscious. The back of the gown has rhinestone type buttons that had to be hooked individually by Katrina.

  My shoes are another pair of slippers, I chose a light blue, trying not to shirk tradition too much. Jasmine didn’t understand my need for something borrowed, blue, and new, she looked at me like I was completely insane.

  The bodice of the dress and the hem are adorned with soft deep gold lace and small rhinestones are sewn into the delicate material. Though it’s funeral black, as Elias claimed, it’s the most breathtaking dress I’ve ever worn, and obviously closer to my size than the others.

  Ellyn did my hair, pulling it into a pile on top of my head, twisting strands, braiding them, and sticking the black-tipped pins in it.

  My makeup is heavy, my lids are deep gold, lined with thick black liner and
my cheeks were given a touch of blush.

  My lips are the most dramatic though, lined with deep berry, almost black then painted with a thick lipstick type cream.

  The priest is talking, but I can’t understand a word he’s saying. Every now and then his voice booms and it causes me to jump, which in turn causes Elias to chuckle. Then Elias takes my hand and turns me to face him, reaching for my other hand. He grasps both of my hands in his and I’m forced to look up into his blue eyes.

  He is staring at me, intently, before he speaks. “Aye.” His voice rumbles through the hall. He dips his chin in a way where I know it’s my turn to say yes.

  “Yes,” I exhale, unsure of what I’m agreeing to exactly.

  The priest holds out his hand and Elias reaches forward, taking what he has to offer. I gasp when he slips something on my finger, a ring.

  Looking down, I almost whimper at the sight. It is a yellow diamond ring. The diamond is huge, bigger than I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s an emerald cut, surrounded by black diamonds, and set in a yellow gold band.

  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Lifting my eyes from the ring, I look up into Elias’ now indigo blue gaze. Nothing about his expression has changed, aside from the color of his eyes and I know that he’s trying to hide his feelings, I just wish I knew what they were, what the color of his eyes means. I know what it means when they change color during sex, but I have no clue what he’s thinking right now.

  “Your palm, Sybilla,” he murmurs.

  Holding my palm out, he drops something in my hand. It’s a man’s ring and my body jerks at the realization that I’ll be slipping this on his finger. He holds his hand out to me, his long, thick finger waiting for its ring.

  Pressing my lips together, I slide the ring on his finger and am so mesmerized by it, that my breath hitches. It’s yellow gold, with a row of yellow diamonds in the center, black diamonds on either side and complements mine almost too perfectly.

  Lifting my gaze to meet his, he smirks down at me like a true smart-ass, then turns to face the priest. I do the same, my body moving woodenly.

  “Kneel,” Elias gently orders as he begins to bend at the knees.

  Glancing down, I notice a small black pillow in front of me and slowly I sink to my knees. “Bow your head,” Elias softly commands. I do as commanded. A heavy cloak suddenly drapes my shoulders and two hands reach around to clasp it around my neck. Then I feel something rest against my head. “Your crown, sweeting,” Elias rasps. “Lift your head, Queen of Bunafi.”

  I lift my head, the priest is smiling down at us, his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. I don’t understand why he’s crying, but since I didn’t understand anything that he’s said this entire time, maybe he was extremely moved by his own words.

  Elias slips his hand in mine and together we rise to our feet. He turns me toward him, gently tugging me closer to his body. My breath hitches when he lifts his hands and cups my cheeks. The indigo blue of his eyes turn black right in front of me.

  He grins before he lowers his face, his lips almost touching mine. “You’re not just their queen, Sybilla. You’re mine now,” he growls right before he slants his head and his lips crash against mine in a hard, unyielding, kiss.

  “May I be the first to properly introduce the King and Queen of Bunafi.”

  The entire room erupts in cheers and applause. Shifting my gaze to Elias, I notice that he’s looking nowhere but straight ahead, his chin jutting out slightly and his eyes looking down his nose. He looks regal, and me? I look like a hot fucking mess at his royal side.

  I suddenly realize that this, all of this, it’s real. It’s not a dream. I won’t be waking up from this. It isn’t cosplay. I haven’t been kidnapped. It’s really fucking real. And I’m really his wife. Wife. I’m his wife.

  “Elias,” I whimper.

  He tilts his head slightly, his eyes shifting to meet mine. “Wife,” he grunts.

  “This is real, isn’t it?” I breathe.

  His lips twitch. “It is. Now, we eat. I’m starved.”

  Without another word, he guides us toward a table. Set on one side are two large chairs, side-by-side, where I assume we’ll be sitting. We walk toward the chairs, and a servant pulls mine out. I can’t hide the disappointment that my new husband didn’t pull out my chair.

  Something niggles inside of me. This is only going to be the second meal we’ve shared together and we’re married… married. The word rolls around inside of my head. I’m not sure how it makes me feel, strange. That’s the only way that I can describe it, I feel very strange.

  Platters of food begin to appear, along with wine, copious amounts of wine. Plates of meat, cheese, bread, and fruit are settled in front of me, but all I can seem to do is drink. Then, unfortunately, I get drunk. All the while, Elias is none the wiser, because he acts as though I don’t even exist.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ELIAS

  Nobody knows about this room. Nobody but my men. It was used years ago by the king before my father as a place to keep his most valuable worldly possessions, especially when war would break out, as war so often does.

  My father never bothered to explore his own castle, more worried about burying his cock in any anchovy that would open for him. Me? I spent my youth while my mother was sick, running and hiding away. I discovered this place when I was five years old and spent more time here, than anywhere else on the grounds.

  When I returned, I decided to use it to my advantage. Now, it’s where my most trusted men and I meet. On this evening of my wedding, while my bride is readying for me, the time has come for me to explain the situation to my men.

  Merek, Rowan, Henry, Lief, Asher, and Frederick all watch me, waiting for me to tell them why I’ve not allowed them to join in the festivities of my nuptials. Clearing my throat, I explain to them everything that the witches have told me, of Sybilla and of the prophecy.

  “Gods truth?” Lief hisses.

  Nodding, I jerk my chin. “Gods truth.”

  “What do we do?” Asher asks, lifting his hand to wrap his fingers around the back of his neck.

  Closing my eyes for a moment, I inhale a deep breath before I exhale. “I do not know.”

  “You’ve married her, Elias,” Frederick grunts.

  Dipping my chin, I lift my eyes to meet his. “Indeed, I have. Cornwall was pressuring me to take a wife. I made a decision and I cannot go back on it.”

  “You can have it annulled. You are unaware if she’s a witch or not. You do not know anything about her or what kind of land she hails from. Don’t be a jobbernowl, Elias. She could be a danger to the crown. End the farce with her,” Asher says, making a fist and slamming it down on the table that separates us all.

  “I have not gone into this marriage lightly, Asher. Sybilla is beautiful, she appears to be sweet, but she has not blinded me with her charms. What I am doing is keeping her close, under my thumb, and not allowing her to be without heavy guard.”

  Frederick’s eyes widen, he’s the first to understand my plan. “You’re going to keep the prophecy from coming to fruition and have your fun, yeah?”

  Snorting, I cross my arms over my chest. “The alternatives for a wife were not as appealing as the one up in my chamber currently. The job needed to be done, and I need to keep a pulse on her at all times.

  “If this prophecy is indeed what the witches say it is, there is no known outcome. They cannot predict what will happen if all four sisters are to convene together. I will make certain that we never know what the prophecy’s outcome will entail.”

  “What do you want from us, brother?” Lief asks.

  “Aside from the witches and Cornwall, nobody else knows about this. I am entrusting the six of you to not only keep this secret, but to also keep a close eye on our new queen.”

  Henry clears his throat. “Do you think her dangerous?” he asks.

  I shake my head, my muscles bunching at the thought of Sybilla being anything but soft and kind. Sh
e is too good, too pure of heart to hold any darkness inside of her. She feels too much to be hiding her true self from me.

  “She is not dangerous. I do not know the details of this prophecy. Four of us will be leaving to go to Irragin, to the ancient library where we can ask the celibates what they know, what they have discovered in their research of the ancient scrolls.”

  “The rest of us and your bride?” Merek asks with an arch of his brow.

  “You may stay here.”

  “Your bride?” he growls.

  “Make sure she does not cause trouble. Cornwall will guide her in her duties. She has her handmaids, which she considers friends for some strange reason. There are also the witches here to keep the enchantments current. She will be fine.”

  There is a moment of silence while my men reflect on my words. “She is not a witch?” Asher asks.

  “Nay, Aleida and Godiva both claim that they cannot sense any magic inside of her. They claim that her magic won’t be revealed until she is with her sisters, all together.”

  Asher nods. I think about everything that’s happened over the past few days and my gut clenches at the realization that not only have I bedded this woman, I’ve also wed her and made her a queen. I hope that I have not done something terrible for my people.

  “Who goes?” Merek asks.

  “Frederick, Asher, Lief along with myself will be traveling to Irragin. I want Rowan and Henry to continue to guard her highness’ person, diligently. Merek, I am entrusting you with taking my place as a figurehead until I return as you are next in line to the throne as it stands currently.”

  There is a moment of silence, and I can look nowhere but at Merek. His eyes flash with anger and I watch as he leans over slightly. “You expect me to stay and run this country for months?” he hisses. “With that woman here?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you command it?” he growls.

  Arching a brow, I show him zero emotion. “I do.”

  He nods his head once, his back straightening. “I will do it because I love you, dear cousin, I also love Bunafi. I will not do it for that thing, whatever she is. I also want it on record that I think you are foolish in this endeavor and I will declare that she should have been locked in the dungeon for the rest of her days.”