There’s just so much to tell, Vincent, and I would hurry it along if I could.
Indeed, I had been watching him so closely, so carefully, that no other detail of that moment was more clear. This was the man who would either be my adversary or my friend and there was no room for error.
I was naive enough that his smile had given me too much comfort. As a Dark Fae, I should have known to make sure a smile reaches someone’s eyes, but I had been grateful that his face had moved at all.
The moment my feet took me to that invisible courtesy line before the dais, an unmarked distance that royalty could feel in their sleep, he had stood from his throne and floated down the stairs there. He had taken my hand and brought it to his lips while I held his eyes and curtsied.
I had been nervous enough already, but he had held my hand, twisting me as much as my dress would allow, too much pride on that face as he displayed me before the court.
“My bride,” he announced loudly, the sound of that silky voice nearly making me flinch as the Court clapped, their faces statuesque in opposition to the enthusiasm that applause implied.
I suddenly felt cast adrift as he broke away and took his place once more on the throne. The King and Queen did not even bother with pleasantries as they watched me with cool blank stares.
It was the Queen who would speak first.
My father was only the unquestionable leader of the Dark Fae because my mother had passed, but in fae society, it was the women who ruled. This was why the gift of his daughter’s hand was far more valuable than human society might deem it. The concept was the same regardless though, that valuable children would be bartered for the balance of power, dressed up by the misnomer ‘the greater good.’
“You have been well-received after your journey, I take it,” the Queen said once a hush fell over the room.
It wasn’t a question and there was no room for me to say otherwise. I nodded, knowing it was rude but my words struggled to make an appearance.
“Of course, Your Majesty,” I murmured. ‘My ass, I was’ had been my actual thoughts, but I smiled as genuinely as my nerves would allow and curtsied in case it wasn’t convincing enough.
It was that look in the Queen’s eyes that kept opposing sides from honoring treaties or having any true peace. It was a look that dripped with undisguised disdain. You aren’t good enough for my son and you’ll never be accepted here.
Still, I swallowed the urge to flee. I didn’t need her, after all. As long as the Prince could be won over, that was all I truly needed.
The Queen wanted nothing more than to drone on and exercise her position while I fought the urge to hug myself against the glow around me that offered no warmth. I could talk to the prince, surely he would see there were better ways to afford peace between our people. I was glad that the Queen did not ask me any questions because I had been filled with the musing certainty of my own plans and tuned her out. At least until—
“Two weeks,” came the words of the Queen.
“Pardon me?” I had asked, eschewing tact at the panic of those words. Certainly she didn’t mean—
“The wedding will be in two weeks,” the Queen said slowly, each word dripping with venom for the slight that every word she had spoken to that point had not been inscribed on my soul.
Two weeks? It was scant time to build a friendship and convince them to side with me. Perhaps a woman could seduce a man so soon, but I did not wish to make him want to keep me around. I wanted my life back—my lovers, my freedom, my carefree status.
The prince was not a man that was hard to look at, but I felt no attraction for him. Maybe it was the millennia-old feud between our people, but I had never been drawn to Light Fae. Even when they were physically attractive, to the Light Fae, Dark Fae were little more than someone they messed with to piss off their parents or worse, intended to hurt or kill after building trust.
I tried to school the shock I felt and smiled, curtsying once more.
The Queen stood and her silent husband followed suit.
“It’s settled. You’ll be shown to your room now. Orphes will be your escort,” the Queen said, sweeping away from the room to show her dismissal, her son and husband following suit.
It was difficult to hide my disappointment that I hadn’t been able to speak with my betrothed, but it had been made very clear that I was being tolerated. I had been so frustrated I nearly smacked away my new ‘escort’s’ hand. I knew exactly what that man really was—little more than a spy and a babysitter. I was not to be trusted.
It had been a great effort to keep up with the Light Fae’s pace, to the point that if I lost my footing, he would probably end up dragging me. The Halls seemed to shift as I passed through the arches and I saw the Palace for what it was—a prison. Even if I wanted to, there would be no escaping. Like most things fae, wandering around places you didn’t know usually meant certain death. You could see a garden ahead and, crossing the archway, it would turn into a void you would fall through forever or a vacuum that would steal the very air you breathe.
He all but shoved me forward when we reached my new room. It was as opulent as any princess might deserve, but it was still a cell. I kept my back to him, but tore at the laces of the corset, glad to feel the dress fall away as I had fantasized doing from the moment I had put it on. I tossed my head over my shoulder and saw my escort was doing poorly at hiding his desire. I laughed at the secret powers of women, cupping my breasts and flicking my tail before sashaying towards the bed.
When I turned to sit on the edge of the bed, Orphes was gone. All for the better. It might benefit me to seduce an escort, but as long as the prince was entertaining me as his future bride, it wouldn’t do well to create some scandal that might embarrass him.
I kicked off the heels, but left on the scraps (the garters and hose, the long gloves and the nearly-forgotten choker at my throat) and nodded off, dreaming of all the ways my plans would come into fruition. Would that I had had nightmares, I might have planned far better.
Each day I had asked to see the prince and each day I had been assured that he was far too busy to trifle with me. I stopped asking and started scheming, only schemes of escape were next to useless in that palace full of random rooms. Orphes had needed to rescue me from a room where the floor dropped away into a swamp filled with albino alligators. Without knowing the key to the magic, it was far more effective than locks for keeping people out of places they shouldn’t be.
There was only a week left until the marriage and in my desperation, I had simply jumped Orphes, tearing at his clothes and my own to take him. He had seemed to be resigning himself to the attack, sighing, but he had used some magic to paralyze me. I had been stuck lying there for hours after he left, half-naked and bored out of my mind, regretting that I was truly powerless there. To be subdued and denied by a Light Fae no less; oh, how it boiled my blood!
My schemes did not stop, but they always failed and did little more than fill the time. Orphes had taken to restraining me with his magic on every visit as my determination to have him became a sport. It was childish of me, but I wouldn’t be bested so I had started booby-trapping my own room to get back at him. He pretended to be annoyed, but sometimes his face screwed up with excitement and amusement. I definitely did not bore him at the very least. I thought I would have things all worked out, so why not have a little fun?
At least I thought so until the day of my marriage had finally arrived.
The wedding dress was brought in that day and I had no longer been able to conceal my panic. I fled from the bridesmaids, women I had only just met, more Light Fae with looks of disgust.
Orphes had been called in to attend to my hysterics and once more, he had paralyzed me. Once more I could feel but could not move. He had stripped away my clothes with deliberate care, not bothering to hide his pleasure. He placed me on the dressing table as if I were little more than an ornament and even though I couldn’t move, I could feel the defiance burning in my eyes.
I probably would’ve tried to have him again since his clear amusement in my helplessness made me both more furious and more desperate to defy the oaths that were yet to come.
His hands had moved over me with excruciating intimacy, but just as the heat built under my skin, he had moved away and came back with the wedding dress...
This wedding dress... It hadn’t been made with me in mind at all. The coloring, the cut, it had all been made clearly with a tailless Light Fae in mind, making it quite clear how ‘well-received’ I was. It probably looked beautiful on some slender wisp of a girl but the diaphanous butterfly theme looked ridiculous on the curves I had been blessed with. Oh, it fit well, but for the clear disregard to my tail, which was damn near squished between the cheeks of my ass since the tight fit of the bodice went well beyond the waist to mid-thigh. It was all gold and whites and adorned with great yellow teardrop gemstones. My lilac skin looked ruddy and dull beside it.
Orphes had not been so delicate about dressing me and I felt a bit triumphant. For all of his effort to toy with my body, I could see now that it had not left him unaffected. With my initial panic sharpening to something cooler, my thoughts shifted away from that moment. I just wanted to approach the prince with whatever last minute scheme I could hatch. Even in those grasping moments, the stubbornness of youth kept me far too confident that there was still a ‘right moment,’ an opening that would promise escape.
It was time to meet my future husband.
I could feel the contempt of the Light Fae Court behind the pasted-on smiles, but my own people were absent; even if they had been invited, they would not have come. Until we handfasted, the truce was not set in stone. I could see the prince waiting by the altar to receive me and only had eyes for him. Well, not for any feelings of love, of course, but I’m sure the misread eagerness to join him would be to my favor. It took all I had to not rush to him. Mind you, there was no music or pacing like you would find in a human wedding, but even among fae, you were expected to display yourself and preen before the Court. Hurrying would not be seen as eagerness, but as lack of courage under scrutiny. Instead, I spent those moments sending him a silent plea.
I approached the dais on the Altar of the Sun and balked to see the deprecating look in the Prince’s eyes at the ridiculous dress. It wasn’t intended to be a shared amusement or I might have sensed the camaraderie of the moment and been comforted. A cold, clammy dread billowed over me like a sudden belch of fog. Even in my terror, I steeled my face and met his eyes, seeing then what I had been so quick to miss in my eagerness to accept his kindness when we first met.
The hate, the superiority, the cruelty. His mother’s son.
I knew my father was there, somewhere on a balcony just as the Prince’s parents were. The High Court could always be relied upon to view any event from above the rest of them, after all. I did not seek out my father for reassurance. It could have gone one of two ways—either that love would have strengthened me or it would have given my betrothed access to a chink in my armor.
So I kept my gaze on the cold pale stare of the man in front of me.
Despite the lack of music or talking, the area was abuzz with the sound of Fae. Plants, walls, even the stones they stood on could be sentient singing things. Fae enchanted all things at will, especially the little winged pixies and the wretched little brownies.
The murmurs made it much easier for me to not worry about being overheard. Or rather, with so much going on, I was simply too insignificant to warrant attention.
The marriage ritual was one I could do in my sleep. We stood on opposite sides of a huge water basin and filled two pitchers with water. He emptied his and I filled it with water from mine.
“Are we really going through with this? It is obvious we are not soulmates,” I murmured to him as he emptied the pitcher, scooped more water and emptied it into mine.
He gave me a chiding look, that fake smile still pasted on his face below it.
“Then you would prefer we keep to this silly war? Political marriages are not for the benefit of the civilized, my dear. The smaller minds are far more abundant in our kingdoms, fae that still cling to superstition and charms. This is no more than a symbol of hope for the pathetically naive,” the Prince said with airy certainty as I emptied out my pitcher.
He scooped more water to pour into my empty pitcher once more and I was glad for the basin between us or I might have struck him. I did not miss how he had drawled out the last two words to insinuate that I was not excluded.
“I am well aware of how it works. We could have more easily been liaisons between our people rather than so hastily tying ourselves in marriage. Neither of us can be away from our Realms indefinitely,” I pointed out as I poured the water back into his.
Fae, whether Light or Dark, drew their strength from their homelands. In the two weeks I had been held, my usual strengths had been dulled. I wasn’t as swift or clever or strong and the lilac of my skin had taken on a grey cast, a desaturation as the light slowly sapped away my element. There was no other way that Orphes could ever have overpowered me. Fae were not just ranked by virtue of birth—the higher your appointment, the stronger your manipulation among your people.
“You will be returned to your Realm to sustain yourself, rest assured,” the Prince purred, but there was no warmth in those words, no implication that he would ever lower himself to go with me. He poured half of his pitcher into mine this time. “And you are free to find your soulmate as long as you understand your position.”
I bit back the retort, that there would be no way I could ‘find my soulmate’ while confined among his people. The thought of my entire love life revolving around trips home to quench my sexual depletion filled me with despondency as the pitcher trembled in my hands. Don’t splash it in his face, don’t splash it in his face...
The need to quell my own chaotic emotions rendered me speechless as we poured water from our pitchers into goblets and handed our goblets to each other.
This was the last step—drinking the water would symbolize our union. I could not hesitate there without risking scandal, but I had felt it happen in terrible slow-motion: the rise of the goblets to our lips, the careful tilt of the cup, the first small sip then the draining of the cup.
What happened after was more like an explosion. He had grabbed for my wrist so quickly that I had dropped the empty goblet in shock. His other hand had found the gap between my cleavage and he had torn the dress from my body. At another time in recent memory, I would have found it liberating, having my tail freed from the inconsiderate dress. Under the watchful eyes of the hateful Light Fae and my father besides, however, feeling my husband plunging into my body roughly was anything but.
I had locked my ankles behind him, but he had held my wrists cruelly at my sides so it was the only thing I had the power to do on my own. It was a selfish coupling and it was clear he wanted to give no pleasure, but I refused to be humiliated. The Dark Fae were no strangers to exhibitionism and the rest of the conditions did not bear thinking about.
I had looked up into the bland cream-colored sky over Saranel, drowning out the sound, concentrating only on what happened next for me. This was not the end and I was not done scheming. I knew that the marriage had only made things more difficult for me and I did not wish to cause war. Still, I would be damned if I gave up on the idea of returning to Asphodel and achieving the peace we wanted.
You couldn’t have told me then that I couldn’t have my cake and eat it too, that it was impossible no matter how much scheming I did. I knew it, deep down, that there would be no perfect compromise, but it was that sliver of hope that helped me survive the days to come.
The Prince would not give his name so I had gotten it from Orphes: Elandris. I had been foolish enough to use it during one of his forced sexual predations and he had made it clear I was never to use his name, a painful lesson that might have left scars if I had been anything but a princess of my own people.
That cruelty marked
my every encounter with him. I had not been confined to one room after our marriage, but my prison had simply grown, not been done away with entirely. This only meant that I could avoid him with a bit more ease and I did. I had learned the sound of his footsteps, no mean feat for the naturally quiet footsteps of all fae, and had done well to flee whenever possible. It went against my natural pride to allow myself to respond like the hunted, but bravado was always met with being overpowered. Even Orphes could subdue me with ease, so it was even less effort for Elandris to do so.
Until I was allowed to go back to Asphodel to recuperate, I had resorted to seeking out Orphes once more. He was no defense against my cruel husband and I did not even try to appeal for his loyalty, but I was desperate for a man who didn’t get off on his one-sided pleasures. It took very little convincing to persuade him to be my lover, had probably even gotten the blessing from my husband himself. He had no love for me, but our trysts were comparably gentler and more satisfying for the mutual desire that Elandris seemed intent on making sure didn’t exist. It had been a late revelation to realize that in the same way most men were encouraged by a woman’s pleasure, my husband was only interested in my pain. I was no stranger to the thrill of mixed pain and pleasure, but his cruelty demanded only one.
That had been my defiance against Elandris though and the way that I stole away the thrill of his game. No matter how he hurt me, I had expressed only pleasure. There was no way he could maim me or kill me, but no matter how clever his torture, I had always crossed over the borders of pain and pretended to burn for more. It had succeeded in making his attempts less frequent, shorter, but much crueler.
The Magical Book of Wands Page 9