Page 17 of When Kings Rise

I don’t answer her; I’m not the fighting type, but I also won’t stand for her abuse. We are all here for the same reason and being cruel to one another isn’t helping.

Niamh walks to the bed and picks up her own set of identical garments. Amira goes back to looking at herself in the mirror.

“Thank you,” Niamh says gently.

I smile at her, but sadness pours into me. “You are welcome.” I get a sense no one has ever defended Niamh. No matter the outcome of this, I make a promise to watch out for her.

I strip with my back to the girls and get into the underwear. Just like Amira, I slip on the bracelets. Robes I hadn’t noticed are laid out at the top of the bed, and I pick up one, happy to cover up my skin. The silky material is cool against my flesh that has started to feel like it’s burning. My bare feet sink into the cream carpet under my feet. Niamh quickly gets dressed and does the same as me, donning the robe.

When we are ready, Amira marches past us and puts hers on, too. She doesn’t tie it but leaves it open.

“May the best girl win. I’m certain that’s me.” She grins.

I want to snap back at her, but the door opens for a third time, and the same maid that had led us here and brought in the garments looks at us all over. The stern look she has worn since our arrival doesn’t leave her face. Her nose is pinched, her lips downturned. She wouldn’t be getting employee of the month. There is no warmth in her green eyes.

“Follow me.” Her lips barely move as she speaks.We file out of the room as she leads us all barefoot up another flight of stairs. We don’t meet anyone, and I’m too focused on trying to settle my pounding heart to take in my surroundings.

She opens the third door on the left, and Amira pushes past and enters first. When we are all in the room, I pause. A metal pole is erected in the middle of the room. Off to the right, a wash station has been set up.

Niamh is frozen like a deer in headlights, and the maid roughly shoves Niamh forward and guides her to the pole. Amira is standing at the pole. The maid gives me a stern look, and I join the girls. There are chains dangling above our heads.

“Put your hands up.” The maid barks like we are a bunch of disobedient toddlers.

Niamh raises her hands, and I watch as the maid loops chains through the small hole on our bracelets. Amira is next, and for the first time, fear shines in her gaze.

“I’m not putting my hands up there,” she says.

I don’t blame her; I’m not exactly excited to be chained like Niamh.

What I didn’t expect was for the maid to slap Amira across the face. The sound of flesh hitting flesh makes me flinch.

I think Amira will attack the maid, but she surprises me by raising her hands. It is shocking to see how Amira acts like a kicked dog over this.

I raise my hands as I’m next, and once the maid has us all tied up, she goes back to Niamh and takes out black silk blindfolds from a fold in the front of her apron. She places a blindfold over Niamh’s eyes. Next is Amira, who has a mark on her face but doesn’t object this time. When the maid stops at me, I dip my head, but my mind is reeling. What the hell is this for?

The last thing that I see is the stern look on the maid’s face before my world turns black, and I’m left dangling with the other brides as we wait for what is next.

Chapter Seven

Amira

MY FACE BURNS along with my skin. I want to lash out; I want to hurt someone—the maid, maybe, for putting her hands on me. The moment her hand had struck my face, I was back home with my mother, knowing answering back or retaliating would lead to something far worse. The maid had hit me right on the spot where my mother’s hand had struck, and I ached to touch my face.

I pull against the chains, and they rattle. I hear a large intake of breath, most likely from Niamh, who hangs beside me. Is she also thinking of how the maid had hurt me?

Humiliation makes me hot. Shame hammers through my system. I should have hit the maid back; she had struck me in front of the other two, who already thought they were better than me. I had seen the look on Selene’s face; pity had filled her gaze. I didn’t want her pity; I wanted her gone from here with her smart mouth.

I vow, as I yank against my chains, that the next time the maid touches me, I will claw into her and won’t stop. I release more anger on the chains, but they are tight, and I don’t get any release.

My mother hit me so much, but I could control myself. She never struck me in front of people and definitely not two girls who were out to get me. They are already teaming up against me. But they don’t know how strong I am. I will myself to stay still and try out a smile.

It’s all right. The next time I come across that maid, she will wish she had never laid a finger on me.

I stop my musing when I hear the door open. It closes with a soft click. I can’t see, and I am tempted to rub my blindfold against my shoulder to see who has entered. My other senses kick in; I can smell him. His cologne brings me back to that first meeting with him. Seeing him walk into the room, watching him instruct the other girls to touch each other. He had left me out once, not this time. I lick my red-painted lips and relax my mouth. I want to smile but tell myself I’ll appear too eager, so I keep my lips slightly parted in what I can picture as a sensual manner.

His footsteps are slow, and my body comes alive, wondering what he will do. Will he touch me? I grow moist between my legs at the mere thought.

He walks again, and the air seems to shift as he moves. A breeze brushes my navel, I left my robe open intentionally to entice him. It must be working. A sense of disappointment rushes as his footsteps echo past me, but not before I inhale him deeply.

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