by Jane Henry
How could a woman of Avalere, who has given herself to me in the circle, not know this tale? My suspicion grows. I will out the truth from her.
Telling her the story will introduce her to the expectations I have for her as well.
“Carina was a stranger to our lands,” I say. “She came as a spy from Freanoss. Did you know that?”
She shifts again and clears her throat, clear indications of guilt. “No, my lord,” she says, her chin lifted high in what I assume is a display of bravery.
“Spies are punished.” My voice hardens. “As is defiance. But, as a woman of Avalere, you know this.”
She nods, midnight tresses cascading down her back. “Certainly, my lord.”
“On their wedding night, for her failure to obey, Aldric punished her publicly in the arena.” As a member of the Hisrach, I witnessed all. Carina’s punishment was memorable.
“On the night he chose her?” she asks, eyes wide and wary.
“Yes, to establish his lordship over her. She eventually complied with his expectations. And after she did so, they lived happily ever after. This, as a native Avalerian, you must know.”
She clears her throat. “Why yes, my lord. I’ve seen both Aldric and Carina in the marketplace, and they seem quite happy.”
She would have been better off to keep her mouth closed with her first sentence, as her second has given her away. As a sergeant, I may refer to Aldric and Carina by name on occasion. However, a woman of Avalere would never refer to them with such familiarity.
“Since when did you come to know the leaders of our planet on a first-name basis?” I ask, allowing my voice to grow sterner.
“M-my lord?” I read panic in her eyes for the first time.
If I had expected anything short of a utilitarian arrangement — if, for a moment, I expected anything along the lines of romance or love from our marriage — I’d be disappointed by now. But since I have expected from the beginning that I will merely train this woman to serve me, I am not disappointed or chagrined but rather more determined than ever to ensure her obedience to me.
Our carriage turns a corner, and I can see our new home. Though smaller than the palace the king and his lady inhabit, it is still magnificent. A pathway of torches illuminates the road in front of us; the vibrant glow of the full moons above us fill our path with light. Magnificent trees crisscross graceful limbs to form an archway with filmy white flowers in full bloom. A dozen or so servants await our arrival, standing near the palace entrance. This evening, I must see to my new wife and her needs…all of them.
The carriage halts in front of the palace. Though clean, with ornate structures flanking the entrance, it lacks greenery and flowers, likely from years of neglect. Aldric gave me his word the interior would be well prepared.
The footman comes to the side of the carriage. I step down then turn and reach for the woman. She peers at our new home warily, and at first does not meet my eyes. “We will live here?”
“Yes,” I say. “Now…Trina…” It is not her real name. “Come with me. We will meet our new servants then dine privately before we retire for the night.”
She takes my hand, and, though her deception angers me, I am determined to uncover the truth. I like the feel of her small, warm hand in my larger one. As she leans down, I grasp her about the waist, lift her bodily down and place her by my side. She squeals, grasping my shoulders.
A tall man approaches, dressed in the simple robes befitting a servant of Avalere. He inclines his head. “My lord.”
I take his hand. “Tamar,” he says. “Head servant here.”
“I wish to retire with my new wife,” I explain. “Tomorrow I will make the acquaintance of our staff.”
“Certainly, my lord.” He gestures for me to enter. The magnificent doorway gives way to a cool, dark interior. Oval-shaped windows as well as exquisite stained-glass windows depicting scenes from the founding of Avalere, illuminated by walls lined by torches. Tomorrow, I will observe our surroundings in detail. Tonight, I have more pressing duties to attend to.
I look to my bride, her mouth parted in wonder, her eyes wide. I feel an unexpected stab of pride at her reaction. Though I have had nothing to do with establishing her new home, I like that she is awed by the magnificence of it all.
Our servants follow obediently, remaining quiet. Tamar opens a door, and gestures for me to go in. “My lord, your chamber awaits.”
I bow my thanks, take my new wife firmly by the elbow, and draw her into the room. “Thank you.” I continue my instructions. “Please have our evening meal brought here, and I will give you further instructions when you arrive.” He bows and takes his leave, all the servants vanishing. My wife and I are now alone.
As soon as the door shuts, I turn to her, this woman I have committed myself to, the woman who lies with every word she speaks. Her gaze grows large and fearful, and she steps backward toward the bed.
“My lord…” she falters.
I stalk closer to her. She has nowhere go to. She falls to a sitting position, her wide eyes afraid.
“The truth, my lady,” I command. “Tell me who you are, and why you’ve given yourself to the circle. Tell me why you’ve come.”
She swallows, her eyes flickering away from mine as she squirms upon her seat. “My — my lord,” she stammers. “My name is Trina. I come from Avalere. I’ve been born and raised here and I — oohhhh!”
She falters as I grasp the nape of her neck, pulling her head back, baring her beautiful ivory throat. I bring my mouth to her ear.
“Tell me,” I whisper. “The truth. All of it, or our wedding night will be marked as Carina’s, with a whipping before I bury my cock in your pussy. Do you understand me, woman? Now tell me.”
She could be a spy or an enchantress, and I will out her truth. I tug her hair back farther, eliciting a small cry from her beautiful mouth.
“Release me,” she begs. “Release me, and I shall tell all!”
I consider my options for a moment before I finally release her. “You have one minute,” I stand over her with my arms crossed. Her brown eyes flick to the door, and then back to me before her shoulders sag.
“Yes, my lord,” she whispers.
CHAPTER FOUR
Svali
The warrior, my soon-to-be husband, stands in front of me, his beautiful blue eyes blazing. His dark auburn hair is tied back at his nape, his thick beard heavy and full. His lips turn down at the corners, arms crossed on his tanned, muscular chest. The dark tribal markings about his neck, shoulders, and arms make him look formidable. I shiver at his ferocity. Why did I think I could handle a warrior of his stature?
He scowls at me, and I remember he’s given me only seconds now to tell my story. He may have the truth from me after he’s bedded me, for after he does we will be husband and wife, bound to one another by custom and tradition.
“I was taken from my home here on Avalere.” I hope he does not read deceit in my eyes. Warriors of the highest order are well trained. Perhaps I can play on his instinctive desire to defend and serve justice. “I was brought to Kleedan and forced to work the mines for a full decade. I escaped, found my way to the portal that brought me back here, and have been working as a servant, waiting for the day I could offer myself to the circle. I offer myself back to my homeland in thanksgiving for having returned. I desire to serve the Hisrach, and I will bring you honor. I will serve you.” I stand and draw closer to him, casting my eyes down, my voice sultry. He does not yet seem to recognize me as the woman who tried to seduce him once before. Will he when my disguise vanishes? If I can continue to deceive him until he beds me, my plans will work far better. I must please him. “I desire to do your bidding, my lord.”
His gaze softens a bit. “Do you?” he murmurs, as I draw closer. “Perhaps I have been too hasty after all. Do you speak the truth, Trina?”
I stifle my instinctive flinch at the false name. “Of course, my lord.”
A slight knock on the door m
akes me start. He eyes me thoughtfully. Though I do my best to pretend to be brave, my lips and hands tremble. He misses naught. Perhaps he will take pity on me.
“Come in.” Three servants enter, setting the table before us. One snaps a cloth of dazzling white open over the circular table before adorning it with a vase of flowers in the center. They place two square-shaped glass plates on the table, along with a platter of roasted pheasant, a flagon of wine, roasted potatoes, an oval glass bowl piled high with greens, and a loaf of bread. My stomach grumbles. Even the fierce warrior swallows.
“Take a seat, please,” He pulls the chair out for me before pouring himself a glass of wine, then he takes up the second glass and fills it to the brim. “Drink,” he demands. “We have had a long day, and this will help you rest tonight.” He points to the wine. “You may have a glass.” As the warrior and my soon-to-be husband, I may eat only after he gives me leave. I take the glass, thank him, and drink. He remains quiet as I take the serving utensils and fill his plate with food. He nods his thanks. “You may eat.” He points his fork toward the table. I obey, eating hungrily, having to remind myself that although I’ve lived a lifetime of poverty and have never had riches such as these served to me, if I stay my course, food like this is only a fraction of the luxury afforded the wife of a warrior. I take another bite of the delicious food. I eat until I can eat no more, washing down bites of food with large gulps of the fragrant, fruity wine. By the time I place fork down, finished, my head feels dizzy and light.
“More wine, Trina?” he asks quietly, stormy blue eyes watching my every move. Calculating.
“Please, my lord.” I lift my large glass with a shaky hand. He empties the flagon of burgundy wine into my glass.
“Very good,” he says. “It seems our servants know their way around a kitchen.”
I can only smile my agreement, as talking now seems a monumental task. The room blurs, his words distant.
“No, thank you, my lord.” My words slur. “I have had enough.” I push my plate away.
“Come, wife.” Taking me by the hand, he leads me to the bed. Happiness and frivolity overtake me. What did I fear? I almost forget my purpose and my past.
I blink, the room darkened before me. When did he extinguish the candles? He sits on the edge of the bed, removing his shoes, and I marvel at the magnificence of him here, the light of the fire gleaming on his handsome chest. I want to stroke his chest. I do not wait for permission but trail my fingers downward until I reach the very top of his breeches, soft and warm. He inhales, his hardened muscles tightening beneath my touch.
“Surely you’ve been touched by a woman, my lord,” I tease, falling to my knees before him.
“Of course,” he says, his voice amused yet still stern. His hardened length tents beneath his suede breeches. His gaze narrows, jaw clenching, as I gently spread his knees. He takes another sip of wine then slides his glass on the bedside table. Hands now empty, he reaches for me, fisting my hair. A flicker of arousal licks through me.
I will show him who has control.
I touch his leather breeches, smoothing my fingers along the surface before stroking across his lap, his length hardening beneath my touch. “May I?” I ask.
While tugging my hair, he looks at me, his gaze heated and aroused.
“You may.”
My heart trips against my ribcage. I’ve worked months to reach this point. If I can please him and manage to seduce him to bed me, we will be united.
I unfasten the leather tie at his waist, and slowly push his breeches down. “Help me, my lord?” Within seconds, he’s freed his cock, hard and throbbing for me. Licking my lips, I place one hand around the length and guide it to my mouth. He moans, his shoulders sagging, as I draw my tongue along the tip. His grip tightens in my hair.
He shoves his cock in my mouth so hard I gag, eyes watering. I breathe in through my nose, determined not to fail, sucking him hard as I knead his thighs with my fingers.
“Good girl.” His approval pleases me. By now, the men I’ve pleased this way have started to moan, and I can take ownership of them, but not with this warrior. He pulls my hair even harder. My eyes burn from unshed tears, the pain aching along my scalp, his cock shoved so far into my throat I can hardly breathe. He thrusts.
I will take him. I will. I suck with all my might. I’ve never taken a man the length of him before. His gaze heats as he thrusts again, but I do not sway. His cock throbs and pulses. He is ready to climax.
I will swallow every drop, show him this, my submission. I will not falter.
Moments later, however, he pulls himself out of me, grabs me under the arms, and hauls me onto the bed. He plants me face down, and shoves up my tunic. I hear a loud ripping sound as he tears my undergarments in two, tossing them to the floor. I lie prostrate on the bed, chest down, arms extended before me. My body shakes, my heart constricted in my chest.
“Have you had a man?” he asks.
“Yes, my lord.” If he knew the truth he’d cast me away with the most common of thieves and vagabonds.
I have had many men.
“Good,” he grunts, and I hear him swallow the rest of the wine. My soon-to-be husband does not plan on being gentle with me this evening.
He arranges himself behind me. “Stay right there. Do you understand me?”
Where else would I go, with a man of his girth behind me, his hands astride my hips like this?
A sharp slap to my naked thigh elicits a gasp. “Your response, my lady.”
“My lord!” I shout. “Yes, my lord!”
Another sharp spank lands aside the stinging feel of the first. “I am master of this house and master of you,” he warns, leaning in and whispering in my ear. “And when we climax together, we will become one. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord,” I pant, willing him to take me. I arch my back, silently pleading.
His fingers along my slit startle me, and I gasp.
“You will stay where I put you and obey me in all ways,” he growls. “And as I claim you, you vow your allegiance to me.”
“Yes, my lord,” I repeat, and I feel him now, the warm, silky head of his cock at my entrance. He pushes in, gentler than I expect for such a fierce warrior. He groans, and a barely-perceptible growl resonates over me as he enters me, filling me. After a sharp thrust of his hips, I push up on my arms. I gasp as the flat of his palm connects again with my naked skin.
“Chest down.”
I fall to the bed, my arms outstretched in front of me again. He pushes himself in me, beating a rhythm that causes my heart to accelerate, my pussy to throb. A low-pitched moan echoes. I am drunk on wine and arousal, so it takes a moment before I realize the sound comes from my own lips.
Every sensation magnifies — the stretch and pull of him in me, his hard thrusts, the fierce grip on my hips, his own growls. My excitement mounts, mitigating the pain of his hardened length stretching me. I pant and grip the blanket. To my surprise, a gentle sweep of his hand pushes my damp hair off my forehead, and he gathers my long hair.
“You may come,” he whispers in my ear. I have never been given permission to climax before. Has he turned the tables on me?
It seems he has, as I lose all control over my body. A delicious thrill of ecstasy threads through my limbs, my heart beating a frantic tune, warmth and pleasure suffusing every inch of me. No one has ever taken control like this. No one has taken me to heights like this before. After what seems a very long time, he lowers himself, bracing his body on his strong forearms. I feel a sudden loss as he removes his cock.
It is done.
I bury my face on the blanket, hiding the smile I cannot control. We are wed.
When he finds out the truth…but, no, I will do my best to keep him happy, and perhaps he will not react in anger to me. Now that I belong to him, subject to his rule, I could face punishment in whatever form he decides to mete out. I will face it. I must.
“Thank you, my lord,” I whisper. “T
hat was exquisite.” I speak the truth.
He rolls out of the bed and grunts in response. I lie in bed, watching him. He goes to a small room attached to our bedchamber and returns with a soft white cloth, handing it to me to clean myself.
“May I have some privacy?” I ask.
He nods, stepping back into his breeches before walking about the room.
Now is my chance.
⊱⟢⋯⟣⊰
I must gather my wits. When the door to the washroom closes behind me, I fumble for the lock. I feel around, and finally I stoop, peering more closely. I have not found the lock for there is none. Impulsively, I kick the bottom of the door with a swift thump.
“Trina?” I hear my new husband speak. I clear my throat.
“Nothing, my lord. I stumbled.”
It is disconcerting to me how easily untruth falls from my mouth. I never have been the dishonest sort. Headstrong, yes. Willful, no doubt. But no, I never was a liar.
I sigh as I step in front of the ivory vanity. An ornate, oval mirror hangs on the wall above the pedestal sink, small candles lit on either side. A pile of thick, luxurious towels sits upon a wheeled cart to my right. Quaint and refined, it contrasts heavily to the squalor I left behind. I straighten my shoulders and look in the mirror. Though I’ve prepared myself, I stifle a gasp. The disguise was supposed to last longer. But the dark brown of my eyes begins to lighten, the edges of my irises already a deep purple. As my breath catches in my throat, I gather my hair up and pull so I can see the roots. I hiss into the darkness. My hair is now golden-brown. By morning, I will return to normal, but the deed has been done. We are wedded.
Still, I did wish for a bit more time in disguise. I felt protected somehow, concealed. When I face him as my true self, how will he react? Many call the Avalerians barbaric, and some certainly are. The warriors of the highest order command the utmost respect and obedience as enforcers of law and order, protectors of the Avalerians.
Sighing, I splash water on my face before drying it with one of the soft white towels. I blink at my reflection in the mirror: clear, unblemished skin, free of wrinkles or freckles, my eyes framed with long lashes, more lavender than brown now. My hair is thick, shiny, and wavy. I have high cheekbones and a small, pointed nose, a full mouth with rosy lips, brows delicately arching above my eyes. I wear golden earrings, spirals that catch the glimmer of light from a flickering candle on the shelf.