A rustle of leaves breaks us from our stare. He drops my arm and we step apart.
A raven flies out from the trees, toward the river to grab a drink. How very odd. I didn’t realize Zorya had so many native ravens. I shake my head, clearing my thoughts as we both continue packing up our things before heading back to the castle.
On the way back to the castle grounds, I realize I never got his answer.
* * *
By the time the sun drops behind the horizon, I’m dressing down for the night and sitting at the vanity desk. My golden jewel-encrusted brush glides through my long black hair as I brush out any knots and tangles.
A knock sounds at the door as I finish up, running my fingers through my silky locks. and I freeze. Only one person visits at night and it’s never good.
I walk to open the door, knowing he’d want me to greet him. I try to take steady breaths, slowing my heart rate and trying to stop my shaking hands. I raise my chin, feigning confidence, and open the door. “Your Highness.” I curtsy. I open the door wider for him, placing my hands behind my back to hide the tremor before smiling.
“Verena. You look lovely this evening.” He steps in, closing the door.
“Thank you.” I wasn’t sure how he would punish me tonight and I don’t like not knowing.
“Do you understand your mistake from the garden?” He rolls up his sleeves. He did it every time he punishes me and I never understood why other than to keep any blood off his shirt. I nod at him. “Words, Verena.” He demands in a louder tone, making me jump in my spot.
“Y-yes, Your Highness.” He looks at me expectantly and I feel like a child being chastised. “I did not use your title when addressing you and I understand it’s disrespectful.” He nods back. “I truly am sorry. I have been doing a lot better but today was a complete accident.”
“I understand. Thank you for your apology.” His hand slices through the air like a razor, catching me off guard. The sharp sting on my cheek is enough to make me flinch, and I know better than to try and dodge his blows. He never strikes me in the face, but this time he makes an exception. My head snaps to the side from the impact, a red-hot heat spreading across my skin. A whimper escapes my lips before I can stop it, and I curse myself for showing any sign of weakness. “Now. I figure I will go lighter today since I noticed the decorations are looking better already and you apologized.” He violently yanks my hand away from my cheek and grips my face with an iron grip, forcing me to meet his cold, unyielding gaze. “You know I hate having to discipline you, but it’s for your own good,” he sneers through gritted teeth before his facial features change like magic, revealing a joyful smirk and playful eyes. “Now, come relieve my stress. I’ve had a long day.” With a wicked glint in his eye, he maneuvers us toward the chaise lounge and forcefully pulls me onto it. I feel myself begin to disconnect from my body as I prepare for what is about to happen — a painful detachment that has become all too familiar under his twisted idea of love.
“Take down my trousers, make up for what you did today.” The threat of tears burns behind my eyes, but I swallow hard and force them back as I take a deep, shaking breath. With trembling hands, I unzip his pants and push them down,. My knees buckle beneath me as I lower myself to the ground, ready to perform my task at hand. A single tear escapes from my eye, betraying the mixture of fear, disgust, and resignation that consumes me.
Chapter 3: The Market
Verena
2 Days until Dryston’s Coronation
The royal family hereby requests your presence
for the Royal Brunch in celebration of
Prince Dryston Whitewell’s coronation.
Istare at myself in the mirror as Mya attempts to hide the mark on my cheek. “Thank you, that’s as good as it’ll get.” When Dryston slapped me, it’s the back of his hand and he had worn his family ring. I hadn’t felt it last night but there was a small cut on my cheek, barely missing my eye. There was also a small bruise surrounding it.
After putting another excruciatingly ugly dress on and fixing my hair, we leave the room— Hadeon meeting me on the other side of the door. “Good morning.” He greets me and I smile at him, not meeting his gaze so he doesn’t notice my cheek.
“Good morning, Hadeon.” I reply, starting our journey toward the dining hall. The walk was standard, my dress swishing across the marble floors. I hold myself up, as if I were already queen. If any of these guests smell a weakness in the castle, Dryston will have my head.
We make our way to the double doors, and the Herald greets me to everyone already in their seats. Dryston sits at the head while his mother sits at the other side. I take my place next to him while Hadeon, Mya, and other maids or guards stand off to the side of the room.
“Did everyone arrive?” Dryston asks me as everyone converses. I smile at him as if nothing is wrong and our lives are perfect.
“All but one. King Eryx has not arrived but our scout informed me that he is on the way. He should arrive by tomorrow for the gala and your coronation. I still haven’t received confirmation that he will be attending our wedding.” I watch as he grips the arm rests on his chair, his knuckles white. I involuntarily flinch, my eyes meet movement from the side, Hadeon itching to move closer to me but I top him with a shake my head.
“That damn tyrant. I almost wish he would have declined in total. Him showing up late is disrespectful. We are supposed to be at peace.” His speaks in a low volume, anger radiating off him. There’s a gleam in his eye at that statement and it drives my curiosity but I know better than to ask during such a busy time.
When all guests arrive from their rooms, we finally get to eat.
Laughter echoes around the table, mingling with the buzz of excitement and the warmth of camaraderie. Everyone is thoroughly enjoying their time together, caught up in the infectious energy of the moment. My gaze is drawn to Dryston, a strikingly handsome High Fae who exudes confidence and a hint of arrogance. His blond hair is impeccably styled, framing his sharp jawline and high cheekbones that are just one part of his undeniable beauty. He embodies the essence of High Fae, from his flawless appearance to the way he carries himself with poise and grace. And then there’s his gift — the ability to manipulate metal with ease, a true reflection of his inner self. Each High Fae’s gift is uniquely attuned to their essence, bestowed upon them by the Gods and Goddesses themselves. As for me, my own gift has yet to be revealed, waiting patiently to shine forth in its own time.
Growing up, he was never truly a gentle being. He would pull my hair, tease me, and we had this teasing banter that my mother hated. But, he protected me from another kid that tormented me. I haven’t seen themsince the last time they pushed me down when we were ten but I assumed it’s because they knew Dryston will be king and I was his betrothed.
The memory brings up my childhood. My mother and father had passed away when I was coming into adolescence at the age of 13, just before my dreams started up. I’ve been an orphan for over a decade and it’s never easy. I didn’t have a great relationship with my father, mostly because he and my mother never got along. But she was my entire world. Where my father made me feel like an object, my mother had treated me like the only thing that was important. She told me she grew up in Khyrel but anytime she’d try to give me more details, my father would silence her. And now, the only thing I have left of her is a small necklace with a tiny aurora borealis in the pendant that I hide in my gowns. I find myself missing her dearly before shaking off the memories.