by Nicole René
They were nothing like his tribe, which was big and over four hundred strong. Unlike the Rhoxolani, the Izayges had an air of danger about them, and did not come across as friendly and rightfully so. They were a strong, fierce, and dangerous people.
It was no wonder the last marriage between his tribe and the Rhoxolani’s didn’t work out.
The long-fueled grudge between the two tribes started when the first marriage proposal between the Izayges and the Rhoxolani was offered. Chienef, who was the son of the Izayges chief, was set to marry Lyrical, daughter of the Rhoxolani chief. Chienef had caught his bride-to-be with another man on the night of their wedding. Furious over the betrayal, Chienef killed his betrothed and her lover. He accused the Rhoxolani people of being dishonorable, and a vicious battle took place between the two tribes, who never again attempted to form an allegiance through marriage.
Until now, that is.
He looked over to his second-in-command, Tristan.
“We make haste to the village. I want to arrive when there is yet sunlight,” Xavier ordered, barely taking in Tristan’s nod of understanding before he kicked his horse into a gallop.
It was time to meet his future wife.
Xavier and his small party, which included his fellow warriors and brother, arrived just as the sun was setting. Xavier’s horse skidded to a stop in front of a big, blond man who lifted his arms high in welcome, a smile stretching across his chubby face.
“Welcome to Rhoxolani, Chief Xavier!” the man shouted merrily. “I am Boers, chief of this tribe.” The chief hit himself in the chest and tilted his head down in greeting.
“Our horses need hay and water. I want to see your daughter before we marry. I don’t plan on lingering here longer than I have to,” Xavier said, skipping niceties and getting straight to the point. He stared Boers down through the fringe of his hair once he dismounted from Killix.
Boers seemed a bit put off by Xavier’s dismissal, his jolly expression slipping before he caught himself, and his smile appeared on his face once again. “Of course, we will make sure all is taken care of,” Boers promised. Turning to look behind him, he motioned his hand forward to the stable boys waiting.
“These boys will take your horses to our stables for you,” Boers told Xavier as the boys ran up to them. Xavier snatched the wrist of the boy who went to take hold of Xavier’s reins, stopping him.
The boy stared up at him in fear, while Boers looked shocked. Xavier stared back, impervious and unperturbed.
“We take care of our own horses,” Xavier explained. “If they can just show us where we may board them.”
Boers gave a nervous nod, signaling for the stable boys to do as he bid. Xavier released the wrist he was holding, and the boy quickly ran away from him to follow the others. Tristan walked past him leading both his and his brother’s horse, and Xavier’s eyes followed him for a moment before they cut back to Boers, who didn't look as jolly as he had before. Xavier held in his grin.
“Your daughter?”
Boers snapped to attention, meeting Xavier’s gaze. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when he said, “Yes, of course.” He held his hand out toward the large hut stationed at the very top of the cliff that made up the Rhoxolani village.
“Come, I will take you to her.”
Leawyn stared down at the sea-blue eyes that reflected at her with melancholy. Hit with sudden anger, she swiped the water in the basin roughly, erasing her reflection.
She turned away, heading toward her window that overlooked the ocean, when her head snapped up.
Footsteps; one set familiar, the other foreign.
Oh Gods, they’re coming, she thought moments before the flap separating her room from the rest of the hut swung aside and in stepped her father and betrothed.
Cold brown eyes met hers, causing her to gasp at the utter emptiness that reflected inside of them.
Her betrothed stood to his full six-foot-six height, keeping his merciless eyes focused on her. His coal-colored hair brushed the tops of his broad shoulders, spread wide against his defined chest. His arms rested against his sides, and they were bunched with muscles.
He looked like a demi-god carved in stone.
The rumors she heard revolving around this man were all true, Leawyn realized, because looking at him now…all she could think of was danger.
She could still feel the heavy weight of his gaze when she looked to her father when he broke the tense silence by speaking.
“Daughter, this is your betrothed, Xavier,” Boers said nervously as he glanced to Xavier before looking at her again. “Chief of the Izayges.”
She looked to him again, the heat of his gaze making her uncomfortable. She lowered her dipped her head, bending her body slightly at the waist in greeting.
His response was to slowly rake his eyes up and down her body. She felt even smaller in front of him. As discreetly as possible, Leawyn peered up at him and studied him much like he did her.
He was massive.
His chest was bare, and he wore dark breeches that looked to be made of some type of tough animal skin, similar to leather. She could only spot four noticeable weapons on his person, but she doubted they were all he had on him. He had a long and wickedly curved sword strapped to his back, and another thick, straight blade that hung down from the side of his waist. On each side of his hip, Leawyn could see the hilt of a dagger peeking out of the waistband of his breeches. His abs were clearly defined and visible in divots. He had a beard, and a scar cut into his right eyebrow.
She looked down, heart rate spiking.
He was terrifying.
“Leave us,” Xavier demanded gruffly. His deep voice caused the demand to come out more like a growl. Leawyn felt her eyes widen, looking to her father in fear.
Don’t leave me, she thought.
Her father shifted uncomfortably but nodded his head. “Of course.” He bowed to Xavier. Her father looked at her, and though he looked apologetic, he did nothing to save her. He just turned and lifted open the flap of the tent, leaving them alone.
She cast her eyes to the ground, chest tight with dread. She heard Xavier move closer to her, and she took a halting breath against the nervousness that seemed to choke her and keep her body paralyzed.
“Tell me your name, girl,” Xavier demanded. She glanced up at him enough to show that he stared down at her. She was tiny compared to him. He easily towered over her.
“Leawyn,” she answered softly, proud her voice didn’t come out as shaky as she thought it would.
“Look at me.”
When Leawyn’s eyes failed to meet his fast enough, he reached down, gripped her chin, and lurched her face up to look at him.
“Your gaze will always meet my own,” he told her sternly, staring down into her wide eyes. “You will only have eyes for me, do you understand?”
Her feelings of fear quickly morphed into annoyance. “Shall I call you master while I’m at it?” she asked sardonically, glaring at him defiantly. She wasn’t prepared for his reaction.
“I don’t appreciate the attitude, Leawyn. You will do well to remember exactly who you are talking to, and respect me,” he growled down at her. He yanked her chin roughly, causing a whimper of pain to escape her.
“Do you understand?”
When she went to give him a nod, he tightened his grip before she could follow through with the motion. “The words, Leawyn. I want the words.”
“Yes!” Leawyn gasped out against his painful hold, staring up at him with frightened eyes.
“Yes, I understand!”
She rubbed her aching jaw when he let go of her abruptly. She stepped away from him hastily, trying to blink back her tears.
“How old are you?” Xavier asked, watching her.
“E-eighteen summers,” she stuttered. She knew he was much older than she, and the knowledge that she was expected to marry him made her stomach clench with sickness. But, Leawyn knew some girls’ younger than herself were married to
much older men. She told herself she should be somewhat grateful.
“We will be married in three days’ time.”
Leawyn tensed in shock, panic and dread washing over her.
“What?” She gaped at him. “We can’t!”
She couldn't live with this man! This possessive, domineering man who didn’t seem to care if he hurt her.
She didn’t want to marry Xavier. Not after meeting him.
“I refuse to marry you,” Leawyn said, her brows creasing as she stared up at him in determination.
Every muscle in Xavier’s body stiffened. His eyes cut to hers, and Leawyn swallowed against the urge to run. She edged away from him, catching the dangerous glint that entered his eyes. The glint was that of a predator who caught sight of its prey right before attacking.
She had a feeling the prey was her.
“What did you just say?” Xavier asked. His voice was silky with promised danger.
She gulped but lifted her chin defiantly, staring at him with more bravery than she felt.
“I will not marry you,” she repeated, backing away from him as he took slow, measured steps towards her.
He shook his head slowly, his icy eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll ask you one more time, Leawyn. What did you say?”
“I refuse to marry—”
His eyes flashed furiously, then his hand shot out and wrapped around the back of her neck in a vice-like grip. Using his other hand, he gripped her jaw brutally.
“You will become my wife, Leawyn,” he said in warning. He leaned in, rubbing his bearded cheek against her smooth one. “And if I find out you let another man between your legs come our wedding night…”
She could only emit a soft gasp of pain when Xavier’s grip around her neck squeezed tighter.
“I’ll kill you,” he whispered softly into her ear.
Leawyn sucked in a sharp breath. He laughed humorlessly when he drew back and considered her frightened eyes.
How had her life come to this?
Three days later, Xavier sat at a table next to his wife, watching their wedding celebration. It seemed like half of the Izayges tribe came over to witness their union, making the six-day ride in record time. He scanned the crowd.
Distantly, he could hear the ocean waves as they crashed against the shore, the sound drowned out by all the laughter and talk that surrounded him. Huge bonfires provided light for the wedding party, and the air was rich with the aroma of smoked fish caught fresh for their wedding feast. Drums and flutes provided music for those who wished to dance. Long tables were arranged in a giant broken square, creating a perimeter for the festivities. Almost everywhere Xavier looked, there were smiling, happy faces.
Their wedding was a cause of celebration, for at last all the tribes in Samaria were connected. No longer was there a rift between the Izayges and the Rhoxolani.
It was funny to Xavier how two tribes fighting against each other for years came together by the same thing that drove them apart.
Chienef and Lyrical’s wedding started the war; his and Leawyn’s ended it.
He thought back to their wedding ceremony, and how Leawyn looked up at him in her white dress, eyes misted over with despair. Her dainty hands had trembled when he reached for them. He had held them still when the tribe elder said the marriage incantation that bound them together until death. She had flinched when he had slit his palm, and then hers, to press their hands together, joining their blood and sealing their marriage.
Xavier glanced over at his wife from the corner of his eyes and had to hold back the grin of male satisfaction.
Leawyn was beautiful, more so than the rumors portrayed her to be. For there had been rumors of the chief’s daughter of the Rhoxolani. She was considered the most beautiful girl all of Samaria had ever seen. So lovely, it seemed the Gods blessed her, and the Goddess Ianna cursed her because she rivaled her own beauty.
Legend to have hair kissed by the sun, shining as bright as its rays in its loving light, and eyes made of teardrops from the clouds when the Gods wept from their loss of a daughter to mortals.
She was a child compared to him. Though, knowing that, all he felt was pleasure; pleasure for having a girl who would only belong to him. Someone who would be healthy to bear him enough heirs to keep his tribe protected. And she would be bearing him children—he would make sure of it come their wedding night.
Xavier felt a thrill go through him at the thought. Though he was no stranger to the opposite sex, none had made him experience this feeling of possessiveness he felt over Leawyn. The need to dominate her and make her his was so strong, it had his jaw clenching and blood rush straight to his cock.
Leawyn was beautiful, and she was going to be all his.
He glanced at Leawyn again. She was rumored to have a laugh so pure and heavenly, it was like the Gods laughed with her.
Xavier doubted that he would ever get to hear such laughter by the way she looked now.
Leawyn stared out at all the happy faces of her tribe as they ate and danced by the fire. She could hear the joyous laughter all around her—a sound that would usually make her heart melt with happiness—but tonight, she couldn’t find it in herself to laugh with them.
Not when her heart clenched in such sadness.
After Xavier had left her room, he made arrangements for the wedding to take place exactly when he promised—three days’ time.
Their tribes’ people were probably in just as much shock as she was, but nonetheless, they had jumped into action to make it happen.
Three days was all it took for Leawyn to be forced to commit to a lifetime with someone she did not love.
Someone she was certain would treat her as nothing more than a broodmare to mate and give him little heartless warrior children.
Never again would she know the taste of freedom.
Leawyn tried to hold back tears against the feeling of absolute loneliness that invaded her. But she failed to conceal them, and soon felt the sudden pain of a hand gripping her thigh tightly and the scrape of a beard against her cheek.
“Weddings are a time of happiness. There’s no room for tears—especially coming from you, my young wife,” Xavier whispered in her ear, his voice hard under its honied exterior.
Leawyn tried to hide her tears by closing her eyes. To anyone looking at them, it would appear Xavier was nuzzling his new wife’s neck and whispering loving words to her privately, eyes closed in contentment.
“Excuse me, brother, but I believe I haven’t met your wife yet,” an amused voice cut in smoothly.
Leawyn’s eyes snapped open at the same time Xavier pulled his head away from her neck to look up and greet the person standing before them.
“Tristan.”
Leawyn studied Tristan curiously. He was tall, but unlike his brother, who was broadly built, Tristan was sinewy. He had tattoos on each of his defined cheekbones, and his hair was shorter and straighter than Xavier’s. He wore Izayges scouting armor, and he looked down at them with the same impassive face her husband wore.
It was his eyes that gave away his relation to Xavier.
Though they were lighter than his brother’s, they held the same cold, almost wild look inside of them. Devoid of emotion, save but the tales of the souls they claimed with their swords.
Warrior eyes.
Leawyn startled when the eyes she studied met hers. Realizing she was staring, she tried to hide her blush by quickly looking down. When she was brave enough to look up again, she caught the slight twitch at the corner of Tristan’s lips, as if he was forcing himself not to smile. Tristan looked to Xavier, who had silently studied the interaction between them.
“I was hoping I would get a dance with my new sister,” Tristan drawled, shooting a quick glance at Leawyn, whose shoulders tensed at the question. “With your permission, of course.”
Xavier studied Tristan for a bit then slowly bowing his head in consent.
“Of course,” Xavier murmured. “I’m sure my wife
would enjoy one dance before we retire.”
Both brothers ignored the quick intake of breath from Leawyn in reaction to that comment.
“Thank you, brother.” Tristan bowed his head to Xavier before offering his hand to her, palm up. She stared at it dumbly.
“I believe my brother just asked you to dance.” She let out a hiss of pain when Xavier squeezed her thigh tightly.
“It would be rude not to accept,” he growled, his grip growing more painful until she placed her hand in Tristan’s.
Tristan’s large hand closed around her much smaller one as he gently pulled her to her feet. He dragged her into the crowd of people dancing, whereas she glanced behind her to Xavier. He was glaring at her silently, his expression unreadable. The reflection of the fire glinted off his eyes and made him look more sinister. She suppressed a shiver and looked away.
Tristan swung her around in his arms, wrapping one arm around her waist and picked up her hand and held it above his shoulder. They swayed to the music as Leawyn moved stiffly against him. She focused on the shoulder design of the armor he wore.
He broke the silence first.
“It will get better.”
His comment caught her off guard, and it took her a moment to figure out what he meant. She raised her head and met the eyes that were already looking down at her.
“Funny, you could say that, yet you are not forced to marry someone you’ve only just met, and I am,” Leawyn said scathingly, glaring up at him for a moment more before looking away.
Tristan chuckled low—something that only further infuriated Leawyn— and spun her around with the rest of the dancers before they settled in a gentle sway again.
“It won’t be as bad as it seems. Obey him, and you’ll live.”
Though the comment was said lightly, there was seriousness laced in his tone.
A warning.
She exhaled shakily, her throat clogged up with emotion.
“Tell me, Tristan…what would you do if you lost your freedom?”