by Krissy V
I hate the way I sound. Whiny. Petulant. Perhaps even a little spoiled in the opinion of others. Most girls in our kingdom would risk it all for the chance at an advantageous marriage, never mind the fact my father has been vetting every possible match to be made, and quite strategically. He’s trying to get me the whole package, at least in way of what could bring Araigha the most prosperity, the best possible military advantage, and peace for years to come.
With each new Suitor presented to me, I die a little more inside. Probably because each one is more arrogant than the last, half of them falling to a despicable category of being old enough to be my father, and the other half too young and dim-witted to even know where to begin to run a country—much less two of them.
Luckily, Father’s trusted Vizier, Javier, has vehemently disagreed with each possible match, always finding something inadequate. It’s nice to have someone expressing my own similar opinions, seeing as I’m expected to hold my tongue for the most part, although it’s clear Javier has his own motives. I’m not sure what they are, but I’m well aware it’s not because he’s troubled over my feelings in the matter.
Father’s face softens as he cups my face reassuringly.
“My sweet girl. You’re much too beautiful to be likened to an animal.”
I sigh. “I’m serious. You expect me to just…” I drift off, having a hard time forcing myself to say the dreaded M word. My nose wrinkles up. “Marry,” I finally manage. “And take on the responsibilities of a wife to someone I don’t even know. You want me to jump from being the princess locked away in her fortified palace—having not been out in public in years—to taking on everything. How can I take all this on, when I have no experience?” I stress urgently, placing my hand over his and squeezing.
“Nonsense, Daughter. You’ve studied everything there is to study. You know all there is to know, beginning your lessons before you could even read or write. That’s more than I can say for…what was his name? Fabio? Florence?”
I scoff, pulling back but maintaining eye contact. “It’s not the same as real-life experience. I’ve not even been outside our city before.”
“You traveled to your Mother’s kingdom right after you were born,” he disagrees.
“Right. When I was a baby. I haven’t even been outside the palace walls since Mother died.”
When I was twelve, I want to shout.
The mention of my mom has him sobering immediately, dismantling his somewhat naïve and naturally argumentative nature.
“This is your duty, to merge our kingdom with another, making Araigha stronger than ever.”
I wilt at his words, and he must notice my resistance because he immediately adds, “It’s what your mother dreamed of.”
And now he’s the one pulling the mother card on me.
Lifting my chin, I immediately snap to attention.
How I wish she was here. She’d reason with him, and while she wouldn’t allow me to shirk my duties, she’d be sure to rally on my behalf when Father began pushing me toward whichever match he felt to be the best. Mom would’ve helped ensure I at least had something in common with whomever I’m to be stuck with for the rest of my life.
“You’re right.” I force a smile. “Give me just a few minutes to compose myself, and I’ll be right behind you.”
Father nods before silently slipping out the door. Turning, I study my reflection. Perfectly presentable, from the jeweled hairpins down to the bedazzled slippers. It’s the same as every other day, only amplified. I run the brush through the ends of my hair, just to have a reason to avoid my duties a little longer.
Just as I’m about to turn, a chill scampers up my spine and I freeze, studying my surroundings through the mirror. The drapes separating my bedroom from the accompanying balcony flutter and I hold my breath nervously. After a few beats, I release a shaky exhale.
“And now you’re becoming paranoid from being locked up here so long,” I grumble to myself.
With a sigh, I deposit my brush back onto the nearby table, spinning on my heel as I head to the door.
Suddenly, an acute stinging pinches my neck.
That’s when everything goes dark.
My consciousness fades in and out. Nausea swims in the pit of my stomach, but I fight to stay awake even as I struggle through empty blackness. The sensations wracking my body conjure up the image of a bottomless ocean as I fight to make it up for air. My muscles burn, my lungs about to burst, yet no matter how hard I fight, I’m unable to break the surface.
I’m vaguely aware of being jostled around, of the pounding pain in my head becoming worse due to the bright white light every time I attempt to peel my eyelids apart. Since visually surveying my surroundings seems to be impossible, I focus on the sounds around me instead. The soft purr of an engine clues me in that I’m in a car.
You’d think since I haven’t ridden in one in years, the distinctive noise would be unfamiliar. But even if I haven’t left our palace compound in years, I still come out to meet Father when he’s arriving home from an out-of-town business trip. I’ll never forget that low rumble just before he pulls up in the courtyard, the excitement of seeing him after he’s been away.
“I know you’re awake.” The smooth, low voice of a man permeates my thoughts, interrupting my moment of reminiscing to remind me that I’m in a dire situation.
I try again unsuccessfully to open my eyes, but more of the bright light splits my head wide open. I whimper from the pain.
“Quiet.” His commanding tone leaves no room for interpretation, and I press my lips firmly together. His phone chimes, followed by vibrating before he seems to silence the contraption with his voice. “We’ll soon be arriving at my Helipad, and once we board, I expect you’ll be sensible enough to keep your wits. Acting out while mid-air never bodes well for any of those involved. If you try anything I’ll hog-tie you and you’ll stay that way until we reach my home.”
My skin prickles as the tiny hairs rise up to stand on end, but I refuse to argue with him. Not when I know so little about my situation. Like who he is, what he wants, what he intends to do with me until he gets it…and after. Especially after.
“I’ve procured the girl. The plan is in motion, so there should be no reason to contact each other again.”
I hear him drop the phone nearby as he releases a sigh.
He sounds so tired.
Tired like me.
I fall back asleep.
Chapter Two
Yasmine
The next time I wake, it seems like days have passed. My body still seems to be weighted down and lethargic, my mind hazy and slow. The sensitivity to light is still a cause for alarm, but after finally forcing my eyes open, my sight gradually begins to adjust.
I notice the man sitting to my left; his tailored suit fits him perfectly, the blue hue a nice contrast to his golden skin. A fancy wristwatch sits on his wrist, a tumbler filled with amber liquid carelessly poised in his hand.
All of these details are cataloged from the corner of my eye, without ever turning my head in his direction. I should be putting in every effort to study him, should be determining what it is I’m up against and devising a plan.
But seconds later, I gasp, realizing the rest of my surroundings and immediately turn to stare out the window in awe. The ground is so far away, my stomach tightening at the height at the same time a thrill shoots through my body.
We’re flying down a coastline, the water a cloudy turquoise blue I’ve never seen before. What I can only guess are tall buildings pop up in the distance, but from here, they look like tiny building blocks a child might play with.
Beautiful as it all may be, a pang of sadness squeezes my chest. This is already much more than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. Is this where it all ends? Will this be my final view?
“What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you been in the air before?” the man beside me chides. Before I’m even given the opportunity to respond he adds, “I find that hard
to believe, so you can cease with the act.”
I whip my head around angrily, not used to being chastised and definitely more accustomed to having the upper hand than not. Which is probably why I let the words flow free without thinking.
“What’s the matter with you? Haven’t you heard the princess hasn’t been seen in years, or have you lived under a rock?”
I finally meet his narrowed eyes, shooting daggers right into the tropical orbs which are not unlike the hue of the water we’re flying over at the moment. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a color so vivid, so unique.
And yet…he seems so familiar as he slowly blinks at the snappiness of my words. It takes him a few moments to respond.
“Obviously I’ve been keeping track of the ins and outs of palace life, or I wouldn’t have been able to abduct you.” He quirks a brow. “But you had to have ridden in a helicopter before, been out and about…I figured your father was just keeping you out of sight because the citizens of Araigha continually grow discordant and unruly.”
I start to argue with him, that our kingdom’s citizens are perfectly content, but how would I even know if I’ve been locked away and haven’t seen for myself? “I haven’t been outside the palace walls since my mother’s death…”
“Which is exactly when things went from bad to worse.”
I turn away from him, worry filling me over the state of my kingdom. Funny how that causes me more worry than my own well-being. Leaning closer to the window, I survey the sandy beach below, barely making out the tiny forms of people moving around.
“Do you want to switch seats, so you can check out the view on this side too?”
The generosity of his question catches me off guard, also causing hope to swell. Maybe he’s not that bad. Maybe he’s just an answer to my prayers to Allah, showing me the world before I’m forced to marry.
I give him an answering nod before he’s given the chance to change his mind. Reaching over, he unfastens my harness, holding my arm to ensure I’m steady when I stand and attempt to switch with him.
Once we’re settled again, I marvel at the new view, how the sun is moving lower behind the horizon and casting a golden glow over the waters.
“Why did you take me anyway?” I finally manage the nerve to ask.
The air around me suddenly changes, infused with a coldness that makes me wish I could take back the very valid question just to recreate the façade of harmony.
“No more chitchat,” he orders gruffly. “You’ll find out soon enough.” The smooth voice that was slightly calming just minutes before, cuts like a razor.
As soon as the heavy wooden door of the room opens, he thrusts me inside.
And I let him.
I’m too exhausted to fight back anymore. I’ve done so much of it, I literally might fall over if I exert myself any further. It doesn’t help that I’ve refused him every time he tried to feed me. I wouldn’t even take a bottled water for fear of being poisoned. It’s becoming clear to me that he needs me alive for whatever plan he’s scheming, so the likeliness of him killing me via poison is pretty slim. Plus, I’m going to have to eat soon if I want to replenish my strength. Eating seems like the lesser of two possible evils, but I’m not doing it in front of him.
No way will he get that satisfaction.
Besides, seeing what I’m assuming is an unattended room, is a relief. In here, I can let down these steel walls I’ve erected to protect my pride. Maintaining them is becoming a heavy burden.
My eyes slowly adjust to the dimness, a harsh contrast to the bright sunlight from outside, and I squint, hoping it will further aid them.
A gasp wrenches its way from my throat before I can stop myself.
“Hope your accommodations are adequate,” he sneers.
I say nothing, standing tall and proud as I face the empty room. No way will he see the sole tear sliding down my cheek. No way will he witness the trembling of my lower lip.
The door slams shut, metal grinding against metal reaching my ears as he slides the locks in place. Locks. There are multiple I notice.
I crumble to the floor, still shocked as I take in my new surroundings—as I accommodate myself with my new living space.
The barren white walls and dark wooden floors are a far cry from the palace I’m used to. The walls are closing in on me. My bathroom was bigger than this. Honestly, my closet was probably four times this size.
Gone are the servants to attend my every need. My enormous bed with the intricately carved posts of gold has transformed into a threadbare blanket. All the fluffy pillows have disappeared, only a flat and unpractical one remaining.
Too fatigued to stand, I force myself to crawl across the cold floor to my makeshift pallet. Sleep. That’s exactly what I need.
But fingering the stiff, white fabric has me cringing in dismay. I’m not familiar with the fabric, but it certainly isn’t cashmere or silk. I doubt it’s even cotton. And the thread count? Couldn’t be more than one-hundred, and even that’s being generous.
I lay my head on the pillow, immediately sitting up to fluff it, and lying back again with a whimper. No help at all—not that that’s the reason for the sudden wave of emotions.
Fear is creeping into my thoughts, a poisonous vapor dissolving my shield of strength like acid. I’m a captive. Ripped from a beautiful and luxurious life—the best one anyone in my entire kingdom could dream of having—and stripped of all the privileges that came with it
Here, there isn’t an ounce of beauty.
Here, my birthright is void of meaning.
Yesterday I was a princess, but today I’m a prisoner.
Captive, I try the word in my head again, attempting to reconcile myself with the new title as my eyes scan the barren room once more in an attempt to find something to focus on. Anything that might distract me.
Sight having enough time to adjust fully now, a pop of color finally does catch my eye. Just in front of the door I was forced through minutes earlier, is an exotic carpet in rich purple hues and embellished with gold threads.
In a place like this, it’s a painting. In a place like this, it’s a work of art so lavish, so out of place, it reminds me of home.
In fact, I’m instantly calmer.
At some point, I drift off to sleep staring at the magic carpet.
I pound my fist against the door for the millionth time before resorting to leaning my back to it and kicking with my heel to amplify the sound. Clearly, he’s not going to answer, but that doesn’t mean I can’t irritate the shit out of him while I’m stuck in here. It’s been days, after all, though there have been few interactions between us.
A minute later, I’m falling to the floor when the door swings swiftly open.
“Ouch, Asshole,” I seethe, whipping my head around to glare at him. I don’t even have the opportunity to hone in on him before I’m being wrenched to a standing position and spun around to face him.
Every time he graces me with his villainous presence, I can’t help but be awestruck by his beauty. That next day after I’d been taken, I’d chalked my first impression of him to my head still being bogged down by the aftereffects of whatever he drugged me with. Suffice it to say, I thought his ridiculous good looks were some sort of mirage my desperate mind conjured up.
Of course, this isn’t the case. Nope. Even as he grabs my hand now, pushing the blade of a knife firmly against it in a threatening manner, it’s impossible to ignore the vicious fact.
My captor is uncommonly beautiful. But not the kind of beauty found within the walls of my father’s palace. The kind of raw, unenhanced beauty you find out in the real world—places I’ve only heard of but have never been given the privilege of venturing to see for myself.
Like seas of desert sand as far as the eye can see, stationary wave upon wave of tiny grains rolling along with nothing but the sapphire sky and emblazoned sun placed as the backdrop.
That’s my captor. Beautiful but deadly, depending on how long you’re subje
cted to his elements.
Lean, sinewy muscles pop beneath his tanned flesh. He’s strong, yet lithe—lethal. Outwardly, he’s a shrine worthy of worshipping Allah. Youthful, regal, but hiding beneath that sinful, deceitful packaging, he’s danger embodied. A diamond in the rough. I can feel the chaos churning beneath the surface, terrifying and intriguing me from one moment to the next.
I can’t quite decide on his age. Going by appearances, it’s clear he’s not much older than me. Yet, looking into his eyes, I’m somehow able to see past the hate and spite, down into his depths. His soul has years—decades—on my own.
He’s lived more. Experienced more. Bore more tragedy than I could ever understand…
Maybe that’s what frightens me most. That gray area separating the obvious from the unknown, and as far as my abductor goes, there’s a lot I don’t understand about him. Much knowledge is yet to be obtained.
But one thing I do know beyond a shadow of a doubt…
He means to hurt me.
He means to harm me in the worst of ways.
And he’s going to love every devious moment of my agony.
Isn’t it ironic? A small voice in the back of my mind asks.
My father has always treated me as if I’m made of glass. Maybe he jinxed me…because this beguilingly haunted man? He won’t stop chipping away—slowly wearing me down—until a million jagged splinters are all that remain.
The blade presses further into my skin, causing my eyes to widen. He wouldn’t…
Pain slices across my palm, blood flowing to the carpet from the open gash.
“Just like the market back home was once known for cutting off the hands of thieves, you’re likely to lose a hand under my roof just for using it any manner I don’t approve of.”
I barely register the fact he called Araigha home as I attempt to jerk my injured palm away, but he’s holding me in an iron vice. I throw my knee in toward him instead, but he blocks most of the shot with his own leg, barely being clipped in the thigh and never releasing me.