I’m sitting in a chair while two maids spend what feels like hours preening and styling my hair.
The whole time, I repeat over and over my new mantra: I will survive, I will beat them, I will beat them all.
When my hair is finally done, they do my makeup, slapping foundation onto my skin, applying blush and highlighting my high cheekbones.
My lashes are long anyway, and I sit patiently while they neaten up my brows and decide I am now fit enough to be taken to market.
One of them holds out what is to be my wedding dress.
It’s satin, white; it hangs low off the shoulders and curves down enough to show a hint of cleavage. It cinches at the waist then puffs out like a ball gown.
It’s ridiculous.
I wonder if Cali picked it, though I doubt Emet would have let her be involved in any of this.
I step into it, and they dress me up, one holding the two sides of fabric together while the other does the buttons that run the whole way from the top to the very bottom of the trail.
As the younger of the two maids holds up the veil, my brother walks in, and they both curtsy.
“I want a word with my sister,” he says. “Alone.”
They both nod and quickly leave.
I grit my teeth and wait for whatever this new bit of the horror-show is.
“You look very beautiful, Arbella,” he says, taking me in.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
“I thought we should finish our conversation from yesterday…”
“What conversation?”
“About your wedding night,” he says.
I wince. “I don’t think we need to,” I say, looking away.
He laughs. “Yes, we do, Arbella. I need to make this absolutely clear to you,” he says, grabbing my arm to pull me closer. “Once the ceremony is done, once the feast is over—”
“I know,” I hiss, cutting him.
His face turns thunderous. He hates being interrupted and especially by me.
“You will make sure he fucks you. Do you understand?” he says.
I turn my face up in disgust and his grip tightens. “This marriage only stands if he consummates it. Our alliance only holds if Luxley is happy.
“I don’t want to hear of any disappointments from tonight’s proceedings.”
“Our alliance?” I retort. “Since when has it been ‘our alliance’ and not yours?” I say stupidly.
“You,” he snarls, hitting me so hard across the face I fall. “Perhaps this contest has gone to your head sister? Perhaps you think you have more worth, more value than you do?” He spits.
“Perhaps it’s time for a reminder, a last lesson before I cart you off to your new husband?”
“No,” I gasp. He’s pinning me down, holding me against the bed as he starts yanking my dress up.
“I taught you obedience sister, do you remember?” he hisses into my ear.
I nod quickly hoping it’s enough to placate him. Only it’s not. It never is.
The door opens and a different maid walks in. “We have your bouquet, Princess,” she says, before gasping at the scene in front of her.
Emet snarls, breaking free of me and I curl up, recoiling, full of fear.
“See to her makeup. And make sure she’s ready on time,” he snaps before storming out.
My brother holds my arm.
My makeup has been redone and the maids have done a good job of hiding the bruising that’s even now throbbing along my cheekbone like an omen of how the rest of this day will play out.
I feel like a lamb being led to the slaughter. My veil is down across my face. I look the perfect virgin princess.
The entire hall is packed with people all smiling, all happy at this union. No one seems to notice or care that the bride is not.
I can still feel my brother’s anger though. It’s radiating off him, melding the air around us.
He was never very good at controlling it like his abilities, and I wonder how many others can feel it too as we walk past.
Luxley is standing at the altar. He looks so smug as he watches me. I look away then down.
Today is going to be unbearable, but tonight…I can’t think about tonight yet. I don’t have the strength or the courage to let my mind even contemplate what will happen.
Emet hands me over and Luxley takes my arm, gripping it so tightly I think he must be worried I will run.
No one asks if I want to marry him, this man, this warlord.
No one cares for my opinion.
A man stands to run the service.
Normally, a member of the Great Council would be overseeing this.
But because I am already betrothed, and because the man I was meant to marry is anointed by them as the king of these lands, they’d never permit such a wedding as this to go ahead.
What’s happening right now is paramount to treason. And in a way, I am complicit because I’m not exactly shouting and screaming out that I don’t want to be part of this.
When the words I dread are pronounced, Luxley lifts my veil and kisses me, putting his disgusting lips against mine and I can’t hide the repulsion then.
Not that I think anyone notices or cares, for that matter.
We’re seated beside one another. My brother sits on the other side of Luxley and they spend most of the wedding feast talking and ignoring me entirely.
The whole time, I’m trembling because despite my newfound resolution and determination to survive this, to fight them in my own way, it’s only a matter of time before I am alone with him, my new husband.
And I’ve learned enough about him already to be fearful of how he will treat me.
Cali is laughing so loudly I think she is drunk.
I glance at her and wonder how long she has left, how long before my brother tires of her and decides to get himself a wife, to ally himself with some great house now that this marriage has proven so successful for him.
Manox catches my eyes and he gives me a sympathetic look that I can’t bear to see.
I don’t want to see.
I look away, fearful that I will start crying and my whole ruse will be lost.
Luxley is drinking more. Emet is drinking with him. Their conversation is getting cruder and cruder as this night goes on. I sit trying not to hear, trying not to listen.
Emet snaps his fingers for one of the guards.
They come running.
“Escort my bride to my rooms,” Luxley says. I look at him in horror. “Go, wife,” he orders. “Make yourself ready for me.”
I shut my eyes. I can’t look at anyone then because I think I might just fight. I might just scream out. The guard leads me from the room and I feel Emet’s eyes boring into my back the whole time.
There’s a maid waiting for me when I’m led into his rooms. They’re bigger, grander than mine despite my rank being higher than his.
The maid helps get my dress off then pulls a silk slip over my arms.
She undoes all the tiny ties holding my hair up and it falls in ringlets down my back.
I’m shaking by the time she’s done. Shaking with fear.
Luxley doesn’t come for another hour.
Apparently, he likes my brother enough to stay drinking with him on our wedding night though I’m not complaining. If he stayed all night, drinking and whoring, I wouldn’t complain.
He opens the door and half-stumbles in.
I step back, meeting his gaze. I’ve been standing the whole time, waiting, petrified to move, to even look at the bed.
“I see you are ready for me then,” he says.
I nod quickly.
It’s not like I have a say in this and the more compliant I am, the less likely he will hurt me.
He smirks. “I bet you can’t wait for me to fuck you,” he says, stepping closer to me. “After the fingering from yesterday. Bet your cunt is itching for something bigger to fill you up?” he says.
I screw my face up and he laughs, grabbing the slip covering me, and half-rips it from my body.
I whimper, recoiling as he leers at me.
“Fine pair of tits,” he mutters before belching. A waft of ale hits me. He’s so drunk he can barely stand straight.
He takes his cloak off and dumps it on the floor, then removes the rest of his clothing.
He grabs his cock, holding it out, waving it; it’s so soft that it practically flops in his hand as he does it.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” he says. “You’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”
I shake my head.
In this moment, I don’t care if he hurts me. I don’t want to play along. I don’t want to be obedient. I’m done pretending.
He laughs before grabbing hold of me, pushing me back onto the bed. He grunts as he tries to shove himself inside me.
But his dick is so soft, it won’t do anything.
He groans, he grunts, his disgusting hot breath is all over me as is his sweaty body. It feels like it’s leaching into me, poisoning me.
He grabs me by my hair, yanking me to my knees on the floor. “Suck me. Make me hard,” he says.
I look up at him with no idea what he means.
He snarls then hits me hard across the same cheekbone Emet hit me earlier. As I open my mouth to cry out, he rams his dick into it. It’s so soft, it just flops in.
I don’t even know what to do, and he wraps his hand around the base of it, trying to pump himself up, trying to make himself harder.
“Fucking whore,” he mutters. “Fucking whore,” he yells. “Make me hard,” he snaps before hitting me again and I fall onto the floor, spitting out the disgusting taste of him.
He stands over me, his cock covered in my saliva, but as soft as it ever was. He grabs a knife and my eyes widen.
I think he’s going to cut me, hurt me, make me pay for whatever the hell reason he can’t get hard.
He grabs my ankle. He wrenches my leg up and drags the tip of the blade the whole way along my sole.
I cry out as it splits my skin apart and then he tosses the weapon before squeezing my wound to make it bleed more.
When he’s satisfied, he picks me up, dragging my foot to make a bloodied patch on the sheets, then he throws me back to the ground.
“Sleep there tonight. You don’t deserve to sleep in a bed,” he states before climbing in and snoring the moment his head hits the pillow.
