Page 25 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

The priest looks at my hands before stepping forward. “You are safe, princess. Please do not be scared. Of course you wouldn’t know. My name is Priest Jean.” He places his hand on my shoulder. His voice is softer than the woman beside him. “It is an honour to meet you, Princess Maelena.”

I resist the urge to knock his hand off me despite his kindness. “Likewise.” I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm in my voice. “Why am I here? Shall we just go to the chapel and get it done quickly?”

“Pertinent, spoiled princess!” The priestess snaps at me, clutching her walking stick tightly. “I had been warned but never imagined?—”

“Oh, she is simply eager to marry our king,” the priest cuts in, “which can only be expected. He is very handsome, and the union of our kingdoms will bestow upon us great fruition.” Just when I think the priest might not be so awful, he ruins it by mentioning that. It’s clear the joining of our kingdoms is a union I want no part of. “I am afraid you must remove your lovely dress, Princess. You may have it back after the ritual, when you are married to the king and your union consummated.”

“What?” I whisper in disbelief, sickness rising in my throat. “But it took forever to get into it.”

I can’t help but laugh at my own response. Of course, that really wasn’t what I wanted to say. What I want to say is—are you fucking serious? These people are sick if they are.

The priestess takes a step closer. “The future queen must be fully seen by the kingdom. It is a tradition that has stemmed back hundreds of years. All noble women do this. I am afraid it must be the same for you. You are to walk through the crowds in nothing but your skin for the gods to see so that they might wash any sins that cling to your body. It is to make you completely pure. You understand this must be done.”

It isn’t a question. It’s a demand.

Two priestesses step forward and walk towards me from opposite sides of the room, blocking me in. I take several steps back, almost stumbling over the dress. “Absolutely not!” I hold my hands out to them. “Don’t you come anywhere near me. Do not touch me!”

“Come here, your insolent child!” the priestess shouts as I continue stepping back.

The other two priestesses go to grab my arms, but I lurch away from one, only to trip on the dress and fall with the other tightly grabbing my wrist. Someone catches me before I hit the ground. I look up to see Erax frowning down at me, his arm around my waist, his eyes burning with something dark and dangerous.

“I would suggest you take your hands off her before you bruise my future queen.” Erax doesn’t look at them when he speaks. He keeps his eyes locked on me and his scent is like a comforting wave as it washes over me. “Or this will not end well for either of you.”

The priestess immediately let me go and jump back as if shocked by his words. My cheeks burn as Erax straightens me, and I step out of his arms the moment I can. My heart races as he looks at me slowly. A dark, primal desire burning in his green eyes. It seems like he needs more than a minute before he can pull his gaze away towards the others waiting. I look at him too, shocked. The black scaled leather clothes are gone, replaced with dark green and gold fine clothes that are tightly fitted to his toned body. A gold cloak falls from his shoulders, and his black hair is styled rather than the usual windswept way he wears it.

He looks like a king about to marry a princess of an enemy kingdom.

He looks like the kind of man I would have begged my father to let me marry.

He looks like someone I want as mine.

“What is going on here?” he demands of them. They all look between each other but there is no mistaking the venom in his tone. “Do not make me repeat myself. Speak, or I will drag the words out from you myself!”

The priest quickly explains about the tradition that takes place before the ritual, apparently one his great-grandmother went through.

“It is tradition, Your Majesty,” she concludes. “The gods demand it be so.”

Erax clenches his fists. “Do you think I'm a fool? The ritual has not been taken place in generations.” He glares at the priestesses moving ever so slightly forward, possible to get away. It’s unclear. “Touch my wife again and I will kill you in front of your gods.”

The older priestess splutters something unintelligible, then again tries to justify her actions. “My king, the ritual is needed for such a sinful queen?—”

He interrupts her with a snarl. “Fuck the ritual! Only I get to see what is under my wife’s dress. She. Is. Mine!” No one dares to argue with him again or challenge the downright possessiveness of his statement. “Now go to the chapel to wait for us, and while you are at it—run. I won’t be expected to wait for you, old man. I will walk my bride there myself. In her dress. Is that clear?”

They each nod and bow their heads, although somewhat hesitantly.

Noble stands a few feet away from us, and I don’t notice him until he speaks. “Now, when the king who rides a fucking dragon, tells you to run… run.”

They scurry away, each breaking into a run. Noble moves into the path of the oldest priestess, stopping her. Erax looks at me. “Not you, priestess. You’re to go with us riders.”

“But my king?—”

He looks over at her, his face impassive.” I believe you were a regular guest at where my princess grew up?"

“Well, yes,” she begins, confusion making her eyebrows rise. “I can’t see how that?—”

Erax's tone holds no time for her. “Then you go with my riders.” I’m confused as I look at them all. The priestess leaves with Noble and two other men I’ve not seen before, clearly more of the king’s riders from their leather clothes and casual stance. Erax eyes seem to flicker down my dress more than once, making me feel extremely nervous, before he offers me his elbow. I wonder what he thinks. “Come, we have quite a bit of a walk. The carriage already left, or I would ask for it to take us.”

“As long as I can keep my dress on, I’m happy,” I answer, still confused that he stopped it from happening. He helped me again. “Wait a second.” I lean down, taking the heels off my already blistered feet and chucking them to the side. “I’m sorry, but I can’t walk all that way in those heels.”

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