In Chains

by K. L. Thorne

“No argument here, sweetheart. But hey, the situation isn’t reversed, your sisters are alive and you’ve hit another milestone. Today is a good day.” The demon grinned.

  ∞∞∞

  After the vast mountain of gifts had been dissected and Sivelle had selected the few items she actually liked, she had been ushered to her final dress fitting.

  Despite the uplift in her mood, Sivelle had disliked her dress with even greater intensity than before. She had held her tongue and allowed the seamstress and her team of maids to package the dress up in thin sheets of paper and it had been transported up to her chamber.

  She now sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the gown as it hung in her wardrobe like a lifeless ghoul. Sivelle sighed heavily.

  “Something wrong, Princess?” Mivian asked.

  In a rare turn of events, Sivelle found herself alone with her handmaiden. Haros had been absent most of the day, having been roped into helping set up for the party. His significant upper body strength was playing an integral role in the preparations, it seemed.

  “It’s the dress… It’s just not right.” Sivelle frowned.

  “Dare I suggest that we have a look through some of the others you have in your closet? There are at least ten in there that you’ve never worn.” The handmaiden began to lay out her beauty tools neatly on the dressing table.

  “No, if any of those were right I’d have thought of that by now.”

  “Well, there is one more option that we haven’t explored…” Mivian hedged.

  “Oh?”

  “Lori’s room.”

  Since Lori and Faye had left, Sivelle had been unable to bring herself to enter her sisters’ rooms. Though the cleaners still entered every day to dust and change the sheets, they lay dormant and silent.

  Sivelle stroked the small silver locket at her neck; her sisters’ birthday wishes were now carefully folded inside. They were alive and well. She had nothing to fear from entering those rooms now.

  “Yes, let’s do it,” Sivelle agreed and hopped to her feet.

  “Should we ask one of the guards to—”

  “Nonsense, it’s just down the hallway.” Sivelle shook her head and crept to the bedroom door. She opened it a crack and peeped cautiously out into the corridor.

  It was empty. Haros’s threat had seemingly sunk in with the persistent guards; they had abandoned their usual post outside her bedroom.

  With glee, Sivelle crept out into the corridor, ushering Mivian closely behind her. The two girls scurried like mice down the long hallway and ducked into Lori’s bedroom. Sivelle closed the door quietly behind them.

  A wave of nostalgia and loneliness assaulted her. Lori’s room lay exactly as her sister had left it. Sivelle could almost fool herself that Lori had never left. A book still lay on her bedside table, half-read and face down holding Lori’s place.

  “Come on, quickly.” Mivian hurried into the large dressing room, and, shaking herself from her reverie, Sivelle hastily followed.

  Lori’s collection of gowns was truly staggering. Their father had compulsively bought elegant gowns of every description for Lori in a bid to keep her out of trouble.

  It just proved how little he had known about the girl, Sivelle scoffed silently. Trouble was Lori’s middle name and it found her wherever she went. Really, Sivelle shouldn’t have been surprised it had eventually come to this end.

  “What about this one?” Mivian held up a sky blue, slim-fit gown.

  “No, not that one.” Sivelle smiled and began hunting through the rails upon rails of dresses.

  There had been one dress in particular their father had bought that had always been the envy of both Sivelle and Faye. She was certain it would be here somewhere…

  Sivelle’s hands brushed the coarse surface of familiar material and she tugged the gown free.

  “Oh. My. Goodness,” Mivian exclaimed as she covered her mouth with her hand.

  The gorgeous, diamond-encrusted dress sparkled enticingly in the light as Sivelle held it up. It was backless and tight-fitting to the waist before flowing out like molten gold into a train. Though it had long sleeves, the neckline was cut into a low v that would expose a considerable amount of cleavage, and if that weren’t enough, there was a split running up the length of the dress to the hip.

  Sivelle smiled, her chest constricting with joy. This was her dress. Lori would want her to wear it, she just knew it. She could almost hear her sister’s voice…

  “That poor, innocent gown. Hanging there all lonely, with no one to show it off…”

  “The seamstress will be so mad if you don’t wear that lilac dress!” Mivian tittered, running her fingers along the glimmering gown. “But, oh, Sivelle. You must wear this. It’s made for you.”

  “I couldn’t agree more, Mivian.”

  The princess delicately draped the gown over her arm as she and her handmaiden rushed from the closet.

  Mivian headed straight for the door, but Sivelle faltered. There was something else that she had been keen to collect from Lori’s room. The princess doubted she would ever be brave enough to visit this room again. This might be her only chance.

  Sivelle hurried to the bed and dug her hands beneath the mattress. Many years ago, after a fateful visit to the castle library, a steamy romance novel had mysteriously come into Lori’s possession. Sivelle was certain her sister used to hide it beneath her mattress for safekeeping.

  It has to be here somewhere…

  “What in Hestaesia are you looking for?” Mivian giggled.

  Sivelle frowned with frustration. The book was missing. The little witch must have packed it when she had fled. Disappointment flooded her.

  Other than Lori’s gossiping, that book had been Sivelle’s only experience of sex and romance. With the alarming new emotions Haros was eliciting in her, she had been keen to refresh her memory and glean as much information from the pages as she was able to.

  “Nothing – it doesn’t matter.”

  Mivian quirked her brow, but didn’t press for details. The handmaiden slipped out into the corridor.

  Sivelle glanced back into the room for a moment before closing the door behind her. Her heart ached for Lori, but Sivelle no longer mourned her sister as if she had passed on. Sivelle’s grief had been replaced with longing. She hoped they would all be together again, some day.

  Mivian and Sivelle skipped back into her chambers, and the princess carefully laid the gown out on the bed.

  “I’m so excited. I have just the hairdo for that beauty!” the handmaiden squealed, hopping up and down and clapping her hands together excitedly.

  “It’s a shame my thrall probably won’t get to see me in this…” Sivelle sighed, stroking the dress.

  “Are you not inviting him to your party?” Mivian’s face fell.

  “No. He’s a demon, Mivian, and a stowaway at that. We both agreed it would be simpler for him to stay here, out of harm’s way.”

  “Well… that’s a real disappointment. I thought for sure tonight might be the night that you finally—”

  “Mivian!” Sivelle scolded, her cheeks heating.

  “Oh, come on, Sivelle!” The girl rolled her eyes. “He’s got it bad for you, you clearly have it bad for him – and don’t you dare deny it!”

  Sivelle opened her mouth to protest then closed it obediently.

  “He’s the perfect man for you! You can do whatever you want with him and he has to obey you. You don’t need to be fearful of him. Unlike other men, he’s bound by contract to listen and act on your every whim.”

  “Really? Do you see Haros as the sort to be ‘bound by contract’, Mivian?” Sivelle raised a brow.

  “Alright, fair point, but he’s got those damn manacles on for a reason!” the handmaiden protested, growing ireful. “Chain him to your bed! Blindfold him, gag him – you can do whatever you like to ensure you feel comfortable. You can finally explore without fear of rejection or failure.”

  Sivelle didn’t speak, just stared at h
er hands in her lap. It was becoming increasingly difficult to argue with Mivian’s logic.

  Though the gag may have been a step too far, her handmaiden had a point. Sivelle could easily chain Haros down. He would be forced to take things at her pace. Worst case scenario, she could get cold feet and just leave him trussed up all night if need be.

  She was in charge, she could do whatever she wanted with him. Sivelle would finally be able to see what all the fuss was about. She could finally put an end to her sisters’ teasing and join in with their raunchy conversations. She could finally experience what she desired most.

  Sivelle shook her head. “No, I couldn’t… How would I ever look him in the eye again afterwards?”

  “You barely look him in the eye now, Princess. Besides, if things get too awkward, you could always just banish him to the kitchen. I’m sure Dorian—I mean, the head chef would be glad of the help.”

  Another valid point. If it really were too painful to live with afterwards, Sivelle could always move Haros on. He was, essentially, a possession now after all. He would be safe in the kitchen; her father would never need know of his existence. She would still have a clean conscience and would have sated her curiosity.

  “I don’t know…” Sivelle mumbled.

  “You only live once, Princess. I implore you to take a leaf from Lori and Faye’s book, on this fateful day of all days. Sometimes it’s good to be a little scared. It’s called living!” Mivian smiled kindly.

  Sivelle nibbled her lip, excitement fizzing in her belly.

  “I’ll think about it.”

  Chapter Nine

  Haros had never seen such an ostentatious display of wealth. He had spent the day helping the servants set up for Sivelle’s birthday ball, and for the first time since he had been a part of Awrelwood’s staff, he had seen the level of extravagance he had been expecting of the faerie capital.

  The large ballroom had already been a sight to behold before they started decorating but by the time they finished, Haros wouldn’t have been surprised if the glitz and glamour could be seen from Banesteppe.

  The entire room had been decorated with gold and jewels. A long banquet table headed up one end of the hall and a full orchestra of musicians were setting up at the other. Some had instruments Haros had never even seen before.

  Large velvet curtains had been erected over the huge floor-to-ceiling windows to try to keep the warmth in, but for any guests that decided to brave the cold, several fire pits had been assembled out on the veranda. Every speck of snow had been diligently and painstakingly swept from it, naturally.

  Finally dismissed for the day, Haros wiped the sweat from his brow with his shirt. He hadn’t eaten or drunk anything and was exhausted. ‘Slave labour’ had become an unpleasant reality for him today, not just his pseudo job description.

  The demon wandered out into the entrance hall and left behind a room full of faeries who were still rushing around, dusting, laying table cloths, polishing dinner platters… The list was endless.

  Haros found himself drawn to the array of delicious smells wafting from the kitchen.

  It was chaos inside the large room. Several chefs scurried from one stove to another, some were slicing and dicing fruits and vegetables, others decorating elaborate-looking desserts. Haros scanned the busy kitchen for Dorian.

  “No, no – start again. It must be perfection!”

  Haros caught Dorian’s eye and shot him a wide smile.

  “Haros! Good to see you.” Dorian embraced him roughly. “You look like you’ve had as tough a day as I have, my man!”

  Haros fanned his sweaty shirt away from his chest. “You can say that again. Has that wine we were talking about arrived?”

  Upon discovering that Sivelle’s birthday was imminent (much more so than anyone had let on) Haros had done some digging as to a gift he could get for her. Mivian had asked Dorian to source a particular wine that the princess was extremely fond of. It was rare and expensive, but the chef had happily agreed to add a bottle to his extensive party food order.

  “Ah, yes – of course! This way, this way…” Dorian gestured for Haros to follow and they edged their way through the busy kitchen.

  Dorian paused to look over another chef’s shoulder. “It needs to be much finer. Make sure you chop it up evenly,” he scolded before continuing on.

  They headed down the steps into the basement and Haros was relieved to get away from the hot, crowded kitchen. Dorian led him into a dusty cellar, where rows upon rows of fine wines were stacked up. The chef scanned the shelves before eventually pulling out a bottle and glancing at the label.

  Even the glass of the bottle was extravagant. The intricate hatched pattern carved into the surface made it shimmer like diamonds.

  “Here you are. We haven’t managed to source this particular wine for many years. I’m sure the princess will be ecstatic.”

  “That’s the plan.” Haros smirked, appraising the bottle in his hands. “How do you want me to pay you for it?”

  “Nonsense. Awrelwood paid for it, my man. Just have it! I think the king can afford a bottle of expensive wine, don’t you?” He clapped Haros on the back.

  Haros laughed as Dorian led him from the cellar.

  “Are you attending the party this eve?” the chef asked.

  “No, Sivelle thought it was best I didn’t, given the horns and that.” Haros gestured to his head. “She was worried I might attract too much of the wrong kind of attention.”

  “Probably wise. Trust me, you won’t be missing out on much. I’ve been to thousands of these events. It’s a day and a night of pure stress for me and not even a ‘thank you’ to show for it,” Dorian said bitterly. “Though I’m sure the princess will be grateful.”

  Haros nodded. “I’m sure she will. Has she got a birthday cake?”

  “She’s got several. I’m my own worst enemy – I couldn’t decide between designs, so I’m making all ten!” Dorian laughed.

  “That’s a lot of cake!”

  “I’m sure any leftovers will make their way to you, no problem! Speaking of – have you eaten yet? I’m afraid I won’t be cooking a main meal this evening, but you’re welcome to scavenge what you can from the various feasts we’re preparing. Have you ever had mirror trout?”

  “No, but it sounds interesting.” Haros grinned.

  “Then come, I’ll get one of my men to fry up an extra. Just help yourself to any of the pots and pans.”

  Once they were back in the kitchen, Dorian quickly became distracted and disappeared to show another of his kitchen staff exactly how they were supposed to baste a greater forest quail. As per the chef’s instruction, Haros hovered around the kitchen and picked mouthfuls from various party platters that were lying around.

  He couldn’t identify most of the elaborate food stuffs that passed his lips, but none of them were anything short of delicious.

  When it became clear that Dorian had already forgotten the promise of fish, Haros helped himself to a few more mouthfuls before he decided to make his way back to Sivelle’s chambers.

  “Good luck this evening!” Haros shouted.

  Dorian raised his palm and gave the demon a thumbs up before turning back to the carnage in the kitchen. From the counter top, Haros carefully took the stems of three pristine crystal glasses between his fingers as he left and tucked the wine bottle under his arm.

  The castle was abuzz with activity. Maids flitted to and fro with dusters and brooms in hand. Waiting staff were polishing everything in sight. Kitchen staff ferried large silver platters from room to room.

  Haros trotted away up the stairs, relieved to finally be away from the chaos. A flash of light caught his attention through the large bay window at the landing. There was a multicolour rainbow of sparks in the sky, followed by the loud, tell-tale bang of gun powder. The fireworks had already started. He didn’t have much time left – the celebrations would be due to begin soon.

  Haros knocked politely at Sivelle’s bedroom
door and Mivian threw it open, though Haros barely recognised her.

  The girl was wearing a simple but elegant party gown. She had her hair loose, so it tumbled and curled at her shoulders.

  “Where have you been?!” she hissed.

  “Shit, you scrub up well,” Haros teased and sauntered into the bedroom.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to return for hours! I need to catch up with Dorian before the party starts. He’ll be so busy with the banquet; I won’t get a chance to speak with him all evening.”

  “Catch up?” Haros raised a brow.

  “A polite way of saying ‘make crazy, passionate love to’.”

  Haros laughed. “He’s pretty swamped down there. I wouldn’t hold out much hope for ‘catching up’.”

  Mivian pursed her lips and adjusted her dress so a little more cleavage popped over the neckline. “He’ll make time, don’t you worry. I won’t be long. Tell Sivelle there was an emergency in the kitchen I had to deal with, but I’ll be back in time for the escorts to lead us to the party,” the handmaiden whispered.

  “A kitchen emergency…” Haros chuckled

  “It’s not a lie – this is an emergency! It’s the one day a year that I don’t look like a street urchin and I need to make sure my beau sees it. I trust I can leave it to you to keep the princess suitably distracted?” Mivian smirked

  “There’s nothing I’d rather be doing.” Haros grinned and placed the third glass carefully on top of a cupboard. “Guess it’s just wine for two this evening. Where is she?”

  “On the balcony.” Mivian’s face lit up with a sly smile.

  “What’s that look for?”

  “Wait until you see her! Try not to slaver too badly, won’t you?”

  “Get out of here!” Haros scolded and pushed the door closed. The handle clicked and Haros turned his attention towards the doors leading to the outside balcony area. He felt the fizz of nerves at the pit of his stomach, but strode to the open doorway confidently.

  It was only when he eventually laid eyes on Sivelle that he truly comprehended what Mivian had been teasing him about.

  The princess stood with her back to him and was leaning her elbows against the stone railings at the edge of the balcony. She was gazing up into the night sky, watching the fireworks.