“I leave shortly,” he announces. “You need to get to your room while my man gathers my things and the servants bring up something to break my fast. I’ll have your women attend you after you’ve rested some more, I’m sure you are tired from yesterday’s festivities.”
He’s rambling, no he’s barking, at me. His voice is deep, booming and unyielding. He’s speaking to me as if I’m one of those servants, and I fucking hate that word, it’s awful.
Sitting up, I ignore my naked breasts as I stare at him, unbelieving of his mood shift. “You’ll be home from wherever you’re going by dinner?” I guess.
He shakes his head once. “Nay. I’ll be home in two to four months’ time, depending on weather and my findings.”
My mouth falls open. I couldn’t compose myself if I tried in this moment. “Two to four months’ time?” I whisper.
“If you’re going to just repeat yourself, can you go to your chamber and do it there?” he snaps.
My growl is deep and long, my eyes narrowed into slits as I stare at him. “You’re leaving me? For months? I just want to make sure that I have this right. You married me yesterday and now you’re leaving me for months. You know that I am a stranger here, I have nobody but you, Elias. Now, you’re leaving, without me.”
“You have your handmaids, you’ll have Merek, Rowan, and Henry as guards. You have Cornwall to help you adjust to what he instructs are your duties. You do not need me, Sybilla. You are a queen, now act like it for sard’s sake.”
Ripping the comforter from the bed, I wrap it around myself as I stand on my shaky legs. I’m weak from the lack of food yesterday, from the overconsumption of wine, and from the numerous lovemaking sessions. No, strike that, he doesn’t love me at all, numerous fuck sessions with Elias.
“Why would I think of myself as a queen when you obviously only think of me as your plaything, Elias. You woo me with your words, your promises, your body and then as soon as I take your name you’re gone. Poof.”
He lifts his hand, running his fingers through his hair. “We have known one another for merely days, Sybilla. You act as though you are privy to my comings and goings. I have business that I need to attend to. Even queens must realize that the world does not indeed, revolve around them,” he roars.
Taking a step back, I press my trembling lips together. “We haven’t even been married twenty-four hours, Elias. Forgive me for wanting to get to know my husband,” I whisper.
“It is a short trip, Sybilla. Quit being theatrical. Go to your chamber, I will see you upon my return.”
His words are final, if I didn’t know by the way he looked down his nose at me, I certainly figure it out when he turns his back to me and marches over to the door. I watch as he rips it open and bellows for his man and his food.
God forbid the King goes without a fucking meal.
Turning my own back to him, I walk over to the door that separates our rooms, stopping for a moment before I turn around to look at him. He’s avoiding my gaze, moving around his room to gather his things, packing a small leather bag with his personal items. Pretending that I no longer exist.
“I’m sorry, Elias. Whatever I’ve done to upset you, even if it was simply wanting your company. I am sorry. If I’m not here when you get back, I hope you know that being your queen, being at your side for even the one day, it was the happiest I’ve ever been.”
Elias’ body freezes, he lifts his gaze to me and I watch as a muscle tics in his cheek. “You’ll not be going anywhere, Sybilla. Cornwall drew the contract and you signed it. You will stay here in this castle under guard. When I return, if one does not already grow inside of you, I’ll get to work planting my heir inside of your body. Until then, find yourself, settle into your new home.”
I gasp at his words, at his nonchalant talk of possible pregnancy and then even more nonchalantly speaking about getting me pregnant, if I’m not already.
If. I’m. Not. Already. Pregnant.
Spinning around, I leave him alone. I stay wrapped in his comforter, listening to the sounds in his bedroom. Then, when the sounds are finished and it’s beyond quiet, I wait.
I watch the door, waiting, internally begging, almost praying for him to open the door to tell me goodbye. He doesn’t. He leaves, after our fight, the day after our wedding, without a kiss goodbye, he leaves me.
Only then do I cry.
Chapter Fifteen
SYBILLA
I hear Jasmine, Katrina, and Ellyn whispering in the corner of my room. I’m still naked, still wrapped in Elias’ comforter and still feeling extremely sorry for myself.
I have no tears left to cry.
I haven’t eaten in days, though I had some water yesterday, but only because I asked for it. Apparently, water isn’t largely consumed here and I’m not surprised, what I had tasted terrible.
The rain falls outside, I can hear it drip, drip, drip, it’s somehow extremely soothing.
I hear Jasmine clear her throat, then she appears in front of me. She’s wringing her hands in front of her and her eyes roam over my face. My eyes are open, unblinking as I stare at her, waiting for her to say her piece and leave.
“Enough, Your Highness,” she snaps.
My brows rise, but I stay still otherwise. I know that I’m depressed and I’m being stupid. I only knew the man for a few days, but something feels empty inside of me. I still can’t believe he just left the way that he did.
“We’ve all talked and we all agree, Your Majesty, that you need to get up and move. Staying like this does not show your people who you are. It does not prove to your subjects that King Elias is any different from his father. It only looks as if you are weak.”
Her words cause me to narrow my eyes, but I don’t respond. She sighs, shaking her head. “At least eat something today. If his child grows inside you, you must nourish the babe.”
A shiver rolls over my entire body just as I hear the rain pour a bit harder. It’s rained all day and all night since Elias left. It’s as if whatever gods they have here feel as sad as I do about this whole marriage, this whole life surrounding me.
The women eventually leave. I feel shitty for ignoring them, but I don’t want friends right now. I want to go home. I want to pretend that I never met Elias. I want to forget how his touch, his lips, his dick made me feel. I want to forget it all. But I don’t want to forget even a moment of it at the same time.
I hate it.
I hate him.
I hate myself.
Closing my eyes, I let out a sigh and try to force myself to fall asleep. It’s been days since I’ve rested, every time I close my eyes, I see him, I see the way his eyes went from glittering black to steel blue in an instant.
He turned everything off as quickly as he turned it all on and I can’t help but wonder if any of it was real at all.
I wake with a start.
My eyes fly open and I sit straight up. I can feel my hair is a ratted, dirty mess, the comforter falls from my chest and my heart starts to race. Then when I realize who is standing in front of me, I let out a scream.
He turns his head to the side, holding his hands up in a show of innocence. Reaching for the comforter, I pull it up to hide my naked breasts.
“I deeply apologize, Your Highness,” he murmurs as his gaze shifts back to meet mine.
Shaking my head, my eyes find his, and I shrug one shoulder. “It’s fine.”
He frowns, noticing my lack of expression returning. “I don’t agree with this union, I’m not going to hide that fact, but you are the Queen of Bunafi and you are not behaving thusly.”
“How am I supposed to behave? Elias married me, fucked me, then turned his back and just sauntered his fine ass out the door like he didn’t give one flying fuck about me. I’m sorry, I’m alone in this world, scared to fucking death and now I’m some queen. I don’t know how I’m supposed to act,” I snap.
Merek’s brows lift and his lips part slightly. “I thought it was mostly a jest, but unless
you’re a linguistic expert, I can’t fathom how you would make up so many words in a single sentence.”
“I’m not making shit up, Merek. I’m from Portland, Oregon in the United States and it is most definitely nothing like this place.”
His lips twitch into a smirk. “Aye, Your Majesty, I’m more apt to believe it now. Regardless of where you are from, you are now here, and here, you are Queen Sybilla. You have subjects. Nobody has seen you for well over a week, they are beginning to suspect things.”
“Like what?” I demand with a frown.
Merek shakes his head, as if he finds me funny or maybe unbelievable, I’m not sure which. “It would be best for you, for Elias, for everyone if you were to be visible to the people.”
“Do they think I’m sick?” I ask. “Jasmine said something about people suspecting Elias is like his father…”
Merek’s face hardens almost instantly at my words. “Elias is nothing like his father,” he snaps. “I’m sure you hiding away doesn’t help in those talks, along with the fact that Elias has not been king long and he’s still earning his people’s trust.”
Biting my bottom lip, I search his gaze with my own. “You love him,” I whisper.
“He is my cousin by blood, my brother by choice,” Merek announces, his spine straightening as he looks down his nose at me.
His words are somehow beautiful and they move me. I only have my sisters, no true best friends to call my own, all my boyfriends have run them off over the years and vice-versa. But my sisters, they are always by my side, even when I’m queen of unbearable.
“And me being visible, pretending to be happy, this would help him and you?”
“And you, milady,” he murmurs.
“I don’t much care about myself right now,” I admit with a whispered breath.
He jerks his head to the side, then his eyes find mine. “You should, Your Highness. One should always have regard for one’s self.”
My nose wrinkles and I watch as his lips turn up into a smile. He knows that he’s gotten to me. It isn’t difficult, I’m kind of a doormat that way. I’m easily read, easy to talk into things, especially when I know that I’m being a tad bit extra.
Maybe I’m not easily talked into things, but instead, I see reason quickly? Though, maybe that’s a bit far of a reach.
No matter what it is, I decide to get my shit together, pull myself together and stop wallowing in my own self-pity, I sniff, and my own stench.
“Can you please call in my girls, I guess I’ll get out of bed.”
Merek chuckles, bowing slightly. “We would all be much obliged, Your Highness,” he murmurs.
“But only if you stop calling me Your Majesty and Your Highness and instead call me Sybilla.”
Dipping his head slightly, his gaze finds mine and holds it. “I cannot, Your Highness. You are the Queen,” he says, needlessly pointing it out.
Though, I don’t feel like a queen, not at all. I’m not sure how a queen is supposed to feel, but I feel depressed, alone, and as if something has been ripped from my heart.
“In this castle, to you and anyone else, I’m just Sybilla. If you want me to be a queen out there,” I say, motioning toward the window. “Then that’s fine, but I’m not a real queen and you know that as well as I do. I’m just Sybilla from another world. Plain, ordinary, boring.”
“You’re definitely not plain, ordinary, or boring, Your Majesty,” he rumbles, his eyes focused on mine and nowhere else. His gaze is intense and I don’t know what it means, but something inside of me twists beneath his scrutiny. “I will send your handmaids in immediately, along with some food?”
“Please,” I whisper, unable to take my eyes from him.
I watch, wondering what exactly I’m feeling as Merek moves around my room. With a flourish, he opens the door and disappears, but I can’t look away, something just feels off. I’m not exactly sure and I’m not exactly sure I want to know either.
ELIAS
My gut clenches as we guide our horses over to a stream to rest and water them. Reaching into my saddlebag, I pull out a sandwich that the cook prepared. It’s nothing fancy, but it will sustain me until we stop for the evening.
Asher and Frederick watch me as Lief goes about guiding the horses to the water and keeping close watch over them.
“You have something to say?”
“You’ve ridden quite hard, are you okay?” Frederick asks. His concern is real, but the way he watches me, he’s curious as well.
Shoving the thick bread in my mouth, I tear off a chunk of the sandwich, chewing so that I do not have to answer him. For, I do not lie to my men, and to admit that I am indeed not all right, will make me seem weak in their eyes.
The truth of the matter is that I do not understand why my stomach clenches harder with each mile that separates me from the castle. The storm swirls around us, seeming to have come from nowhere, the horses are on edge as am I and the other men as well.
“She will be well, Elias. Her guards are your trusted men, Merek your cousin, if it is Her Highness you worry after, she will be safe,” Asher announces. “Though, I’m still uncertain why you married her.”
Thinking of being without her sends another wave of sickness through my body. I push it down and aside, ignoring it. “Doesn’t matter. I have married her and that is the way of it. The celibates will guide us to what’s truly going on with her appearance in Bunafi.”
There is a moment of silence before Frederick clears his throat. “Speak freely, Freddy,” I grunt, knowing that he must have something on his mind.
“The storm is unusual. The way you hold yourself, it is unusual. Are the witches certain that she holds no power, even power that she may be unaware of?” he asks.
Nodding my head, I take another bite of my tasteless food. “They are both certain,” I say.
Turning around to look behind us, I notice where Frederick is staring. Dark clouds circle around the area of the castle, though we’ve ridden too far to actually see the building any longer.
Shifting my gaze back to my men, I shove the feelings of gut-clenching guilt down. I shouldn’t have left her, I knew it before I walked out of that chamber, but I did it anyway.
She will be fine, I repeat to myself over and over again. “Shall we head toward Kelna and stop there for the night?” I ask.
“Another chance to drain my cock,” Asher barks with a loud boom of laughter.
“Aye.” I smirk.
The four of us climb back onto our stallions and ride toward Kelna. We make our way through small villages, and I don’t spare a second glance when we ride right past Duraina’s home. Thinking of her, it only makes that clenching feeling worsen.
Thoughts of Sybilla consume me. The way that she looked after she found her release, the way she smiled up at me as if she’d fallen in deep love in just a moment. Then I watched that expression disappear in an instant, caused by my own harsh words.
Sybilla must learn that her duties are above everything as are my own. Love has no place in the monarchy. These are hard truths, ones that I have known since birth. She will learn eventually.
The crown, the throne, it is above all else. Even above love. There is no place in our world for passion and love the way there is for a common couple. She will understand and when we share our rare moments together alone, I will make up for what our relationship will lack as much as I possibly can.
The tavern comes into view, it’s the nicest place to spend the evening, and has not only the best food but the best bar wenches as well. Dismounting from Storm, I tie him to a post at the entrance of the inn.
There is a boy by the door and I instruct him to feed, water, and board the horses for the night. Making my way over to the inn’s keeper, I dip my chin and look down at the portly woman.
“Three rooms please, one of them a suite,” I coarsely demand.
She drops her chin, immediately realizing who I am. “Yes, Yer Majesty,” she mutters then calls out to someone behi
nd her.
A girl appears, a young woman. Her face pinks as she gives me a poor excuse of a curtsy. “Please, this way, Your Highness,” she whispers.
“Have the boy bring baths into the rooms as well,” I call out to the woman.
She jerks her head and quickly goes about following my demands. We follow behind the young woman, each of us going into our rooms when she shows us to them with a promise to meet within the hour downstairs for food.
Sinking down onto the lumpy mattress, I close my eyes for a moment as I let out a groan. This bed wouldn’t be so bad if I had Sybilla lying naked in it, waiting for me to ravish her.
Lifting my hand over my head, I run my fingers through my hair at the thought of her. I’ve left her alone and although I shouldn’t, I feel a massive amount of guilt that is only intensifying with each mile, each hour, each minute that passes.
Soon the boy appears with my bath, and I go about washing myself before I dress and head down to the dining hall for something to eat and most definitely some ale to drink. And I do plan on drinking copious amounts of ale in hopes of getting the woman off of my mind.
“You’re in a piss mood, brother,” Lief barks as he downs his third ale.
There’s a wench on his lap, curled close to him, pressing her bosom against his chest as he speaks. Frederick has already disappeared around the corner with his own wench, no doubt to enjoy a tup and then go to bed to sleep like a sarding baby.
Asher is stumbling upstairs with his own woman, the young innkeeper’s daughter, though I shouldn’t be surprised, Asher is the youngest of the group and prefers a shyer sweeter woman to bed.
“I’m not,” I grumble as I stand to my feet.
I am in a piss mood. In fact, I’m in such a piss mood that I’m going to take my miserable self upstairs to my room and attempt to sleep. Leaving Lief to his wench, I stumble upstairs and into my chamber.
Bride of the Traitor: A Prophecy of Sisters Novel Page 12
