by Ophelia Bell
In the midst of the chaos of her wedding day, Belah realized that she’d never actually had a wedding before. Not a true wedding, at any rate. Most of her former mates had been prizes or religious sacrifices to her. No wonder they’d expected to die. The prospect of death had shrouded them from the start, and her power had done nothing to counteract their fears or preconceptions. She hadn’t endeared herself to them in any fashion—only marked them and used them.
Their pleasure had been apparent. They wanted her the way a zealot wants to be blessed by their god or a martyr wants death for their cause. Their desires had been so all-consuming, and after losing their wills thanks to her mark, they succumbed to the power of her apparent divinity. In their eyes, she was a goddess, and the purest way to please a goddess was to die in her name.
Nikhil had nearly done so himself, before even coming into direct contact with her. His touch on that first day they’d met was enough for her to know he was nothing like the others. He had made his sacrifice for her, no doubt, but he had his own craving for glory, too. He’d said as much when he believed he was near death—he wanted to be revered as the gods were.
Belah remembered that day as her attendants were dressing her in her bridal finery. She smiled at the thought that now Nikhil would find his glory in full view of the entire kingdom and all the gods, but his chief reason now wasn’t for glory. She knew without a doubt that he wanted this day to prove that she was his and for no other reason.
In another room somewhere in the palace, he was being similarly outfitted in finery. Within the next few hours, they would meet together on the grand promenade outside the palace, be paraded through the capitol together on separate gilded litters for all to see. Behind them, wagons full of celebratory prizes would be thrown to the crowds in their wake.
Once in the gardens of the Temple of Ra, the ceremony would begin, with all the gods looking on.
Belah held back a laugh, picturing how that particular scene would play out and had to endure a scowl from one of her maids who was arduously attempting to secure her elaborate headdress.
All the supposed “gods” in attendance were close, personal friends. Her oldest friends. All immortal like her. Five of them were her own siblings. One was the Ursa high shaman, one the Turul grand seer, and the last two were the twin thiasoi, the brother and sister leaders of the Nymphaea.
The idea of kneeling before the nine of them seemed silly to her, but the significance of their presence still wasn’t lost on her. A wedding like this one was unprecedented among their kind. That they had agreed to be present honored her. Even more, that they had agreed to bless her soon-to-be-husband with their magic was the highest honor that she would be indebted to for a long time.
Before she knew it, her maids urged her to move and she went. Her headdress tilted off center when she walked and the woman who had been fixing it let out an alarmed squeak, making Belah stop. She turned back to the mirror to examine the contraption that rested on her head. It was a high, tapered cylinder painted in gold and stripes that secured to the top of her head and flared out wider as it went up. All her hair had been braided and piled inside it, but it wasn’t nearly as secure to her head as it needed to be.
Seeing the quickest solution, she brushed off the panicked maid and manifested her horns inside the headdress. Once she was certain it was securely in place, she made a show of pressing the whole thing down harder, and then tilting her head side-to-side. The maid sighed in relief and they made their way out the door.
With each step down the corridor to her private exit to the palace, her thighs were jabbed with the delicious little spikes of Nikhils pre-wedding gift to her: a brand new set of barbed bands to remind her that she was his.
And on one of those bands she’d secured a sheath for her gift to him—but he wouldn’t receive it until much later, after they were alone together as husband and wife.
The blade itself had taken some time and thought for her to come up with. The perfect gift for him would align, she hoped, with what his true gift for her would be.
Every day since their last discussion, she’d played his words over and over in her mind. He would give her the gift she wished for, but by his rules. Nikhil had a reputation as a torturer among his soldiers, and strangulation was not part of his repertoire. It had become clear to her that he only did that because it was what pleased her, not because it pleased him. After several inquiries of her guards, she learned that his methods were designed to cause much pain and bloodletting, but little permanent damage other than scars if a prisoner turned pliant quickly. He’s a master, they said. His blades were his most treasured tools.
She wondered why he’d never approached her about using those blades during their games, but then their games had never crossed the line into true torture before. He’d been testing her with greater and greater pain all along, but when he learned her skin couldn’t be pierced, he scaled back and redirected his efforts into other areas. That was when he’d tried humiliation at the hands of her pets, followed by strangulation by his own hand.
She raised a shaky hand to her throat, her body heating at the memory of that first squeeze and how focused every other sensation became when her power of true thought broke down as she ceased to breathe. How would it feel to reach the abyss through Nikhil’s chosen path? If he indeed led her there tonight, would it be as glorious a journey as every other one he had taken her on so far?
Her eyelids fluttered closed with the fantasy just as her maids all let out simultaneous exclamations. When she opened her eyes, a huge shadow filled the entire corridor and a wall of black leather and fur stood before her.
She scowled up at her brother, peripherally aware of all her maids kneeling around them.
“You’re scaring them,” she spat in her native tongue to keep her maids from catching on to the conflict.
Ked glowered at her and responded in the same language. “This marriage is a farce. You have to mark him, Belah, and you know it.”
“He’s sane enough with my breath. I won’t destroy his will by marking him. I don’t care if we never have a child together. He is the one I want.”
“And what do you think he wants? Is it only you or the glory you represent? He won’t just be elevated to the status of a king after today. He’ll be the consort of a goddess.”
“No,” Belah said, narrowing her eyes at her brother. “He’ll be my equal in the eyes of my subjects. But he’s even more than that in my bed. Is that what bothers you, brother? That another man commands my respect besides you?”
Ked closed his eyes with a grimace. After a harsh, defeated sigh, he said, “I love you, sister. I only wish for your happiness, but any dragon marriage not meant to produce offspring can be nothing but destructive. I fear this misplaced devotion for him will destroy you somehow, and the rest of us as a result. We can’t live without you.”
“He’s only a man, Ked,” she said softly, peering up at him. “I am still fully in control of my powers. I promise if I ever thought he would hurt anyone besides me, I would destroy him in a heartbeat.”
Ked’s eyes darkened, and along with them the entire corridor grew pitch black. Around them her maids whimpered in fear.
“He does hurt you, doesn’t he? Did you lie to me before?”
“I have never lied to you,” she said. She eyed the dark corridor beyond, wishing for a way out. She wanted nothing more of this conversation. Not on her wedding day.
Ked grabbed her wrist when she tried to move past. His unwelcome touch incited fury deep inside her. Her other hand shot up and gripped his throat. She shoved hard, her native strength surging forward enough to lift him off his feet and slam him against the wall.
Dark black eyes met brilliant blue—her own rage reflected in his deepest depths. His throat worked against her palm and she wondered briefly if being strangled would turn her brother on the way it did to her. Their games we
re ancient history, though. Child’s play, compared to what she enjoyed now.
Through gritted teeth, she said, “You didn’t make me this way, brother. I was this way before you ever touched me. That day when we did unspeakable things to each other—I will remind you, that was my idea. The pain you gave me, I begged for. Every moment of agony that resulted is mine to bear. Not yours. Nikhil gives me succor from my hatred of myself for that day and the aftermath, but never forget… IT. WAS. MY. CHOICE.”
Ked’s eyes only widened and he let out a strangled sound and a nod. Belah blinked and shook her head, coming back to her senses. She released him as tears began to stream down her face.
When her strength gave out, Ked caught her and held her. In a rough, tight voice, he said, “Hush, sister. I never blamed you. I always loved you.” He let out a small chuckle, followed by an agonized cough that signaled she’d done some damage to him after all. Clearing his throat, he said, “I forget sometimes how strong you are. You always were the strongest of the six of us. It’s no wonder I couldn’t resist you then.”
Belah exhaled slowly, finally regaining her bearings. “We didn’t have many options at the time. We were too young and humanity was too primitive.” She pulled back and looked up into the black eyes of one of the few people in the world who made her long life bearable.
She rested her hand against his cheek. “Nikhil makes me happy. Do you truly begrudge me happiness? I know it’s not ideal, but this is how it has to be for us.”
Ked gave her an affectionate squeeze. “My only wish is for you to be happy, sister. Whatever that means, I will be here for you, but I will be on my guard where your lover is concerned.” He lifted a hand and swiped a thumb across her wet cheek, his brow furrowed. “I fear I’ve ruined your makeup.”
She sniffled and laughed. Glancing around at her maids to ensure they were still prostrated on the floor, she simply let out a breath of her magic and let her will set her appearance how she wished it to be.
“Go, brother. If you are willing to sanction this wedding after all, you need to be in the hall with the rest of them.”
He righted himself and turned to go.
As Belah was rousing her frightened maids, she heard him call her name once more.
“Belah. If he ever hurts you, you can trust that I will destroy him.”
Chapter Eighteen
Belah and Nikhil stared at each other, breathing so deeply that their chests rose and fell in unison.
The day was already hot, the scent of jasmine strong around them. Yet Belah’s skin blazed even hotter with the need for his touch
They couldn’t touch each other yet. They had to pledge their love and make it true in the eyes of the gods before they could have each other. From the second their eyes met before the line of gods who stood as their witnesses, she’d been as giddy as any village girl anticipating her wedding. It humbled her to realize—that this moment must be what every woman in love experienced, and it mattered little what her status was.
Nothing else mattered today but their love for each other. That she was immortal and he was only a man seemed immaterial in the face of what they were about to embark on together.
Beyond the raised dais they stood upon, her subjects watched with rapt wonder. The pair of them made quite a vision, bedecked in pure white robes edged in gold and jeweled embroidery, with golden headdresses and jewelry. Nikhil’s bronze, muscular chest was bare, but had been painted with gold that gleamed in the afternoon sun, enhancing every hard line and rippling muscle of his physique. His long hair that had grown out over the time since his injury was bound up in a braided queue at the back of his head and an elaborate crown rested on top. Over one shoulder was draped pure white linen that cascaded down his back and was secured with jeweled scarabs that matched the ones at her throat and hips.
Belah smiled secretly, thinking that they matched her private ornaments, too. His dark eyes were lined with kohl, as were her own, and lent him a slightly sinister appearance, but the heat in his gaze when he looked at her betrayed his raw desire and his love.
The nine gods and goddesses she called her friends and family stood nearby. The twelfth figure on the dais was the temple priestess who directed them all into position with a soft murmur. Belah and Nikhil moved to face each other and kneel while the others encircled them.
The ceremony itself was no more than a blur around her. Belah followed each prompt as though some external entity had control of her reactions, but through it all, she found she couldn’t keep her eyes off his. Nikhil’s gaze never once left hers, and her need grew with each passing moment and each phase of the hours-long ceremony.
This was true torture, she decided. The endless pledges of their love, for which each of the gods requested a different promise and bestowed their own unique blessing in kind. The blessings meant little to Belah herself, but meant everything to her lover. Each one, ceremonially bestowed, would add years to his life and ensure a longer bond between them. In the eyes of her people, their bond would be eternal, and even though Belah knew that eternity wasn’t in the stars for Nikhil, she wouldn’t begrudge these few moments to allow him as much time with her as possible.
Each of her siblings’ blessings were granted innocuously, with an exchange of breath that to all outward appearances looked like a kiss. For the sake of theatrics, they each went one better, using their powers to create the illusion of a bright glow around the entire ceremony that matched the color of their magic.
The others coupled their own blessings with similar visual effects that were secondary to the true magic. The turul seeress bestowed her gift with a song, the lilting tune so beautiful Belah couldn’t help but feel tears prick at the corners of her eyes. She sensed the other immortals lending their magic to the effects to enhance the awe of the crowd that looked on. By and large their truest magic was invisible, but the show of power benefited them all.
The ursa shaman’s magic was the most visible of all of them. When she raised her hands to the heavens, clouds coalesced above them, and warm rains came down, drenching Belah and Nikhil both. Between them, a seedling sprouted straight through the stone and grew with surprising speed, up through the circle created by their clasped hands. It grew into a tall tree, branching out into a bright green canopy above them and flowering brilliantly in a burst of color that caused all the onlookers to gasp with amazement.
In the background, the turul’s voice added a new song to the event, and beside her the nymphaea’s magic rose as the brother-sister pair stood and began moving their lithe, tall bodies around the circle in a dance. They leapt and bent and swayed with the music, as beautiful in their flowing robes as the birds that graced the river’s edges. She didn’t see the entire dance, but every so often as they circled around her and Nikhil, she would catch glimpses and was sure they became those long-legged birds, with blue-edged feathers and long, curved necks. Above them the tree bloomed and the flowers fell in brilliant red waves around them until the entire surface of the sand-colored polished stone they knelt on was carpeted in brilliant red petals.
The heft of the dagger attached to Belah’s thigh weighed heavy, pressing the spikes of the band harder into her flesh. In her mind’s eye she saw the red petals turn to blood. The image probably should have troubled her, but it excited her. She had never once even seen her own blood. Her life’s essence was protected beneath her impervious skin. Tonight, would he be willing to use her gift? He had told her that he would take her to that place one more time, in his own way, and had suggested that meant drawing her blood, yet he hadn’t mentioned it again since.
She loved the way he took her to the edge of pure pain. How he’d learned to improvise when he’d learned she had such limits. He didn’t go for outright violence beyond the whippings he’d given her, and his hesitance to push her to that final precipice too often betrayed his deep love for her. Death might not be permanent for her, but he had se
en it often enough to know the impact of it. He had administered it himself.
He was a killer, and knew both how to kill and the repercussions of doing so.
Belah swallowed harshly. They had been apart for months, but she still remembered the last time he’d wrapped his large hands around her slender throat and squeezed just enough.
The dancers swayed into her line of sight, their actions mimicking the images in her mind. The male bent over the female, hands at her throat, his body arced so gracefully he could have been a tree bending in the wind. But he didn’t clasp his hands as Belah anticipated. He pushed them higher, through his sisters’ hair and pulled her up against him to dance entwined.
They were immortal like she was, did they wish to find the same kind of peace she did? Even if she could just sleep for a few centuries…
She bit the inside of her mouth. No. This was her wedding day. Nikhil was here now, and it was bad form to already be thinking about how she would exist after he was gone. After the blessings were bestowed, she would have a few centuries with him, she hoped.
More red petals fell around them, inundating her with their spicy scent. The nymphaea twins kept dancing, their movements generating strange magic that she’d never felt. The magic made her want to use her limbs, to move with them. But more than that, it made her want to lay Nikhil down and fuck him in the most acrobatic way.
She caught his gaze and his mouth spread into a wide smile. He felt it, too. She didn’t have to look down to know that his gilded cock was hard beneath his wedding garb.
The nymphs’ magic filtered over them like a mist settling. Most of it was directed at Nikhil, and each time they twirled and bowed close to him, they touched him. Each touch bestowed him with more of their magic, which held the essence of vibrant life coupled with stillness. That of a placid lake, as clear as a mirror on the surface, but teaming with life beneath.
Around her, the ceremony faded out, becoming secondary to the connection between her and Nikhil. She responded almost unconsciously to the instructions of the priestess as she made her vows. Her body thrummed with excitement when Nikhil’s deep voice reverberated in her ears with the promises of his own wedding vows. Soon, the pair of them were urged to rise again and present themselves to the throng of onlookers who cheered so loudly the air moved from the force of their congratulations.