Page 4 of Ruled By Magic

Fucking bastard.

My hands shook. Six months at his mercy, to save myself. While Hex rotted in prison.

No.

One deep breath. Two. Calm crept back in, or a semblance of it, at least. The Lord Commander wanted me, for some twisted reason. But it meant I had something of value. A bargaining chip.

“Let Hex go.” My voice wavered. I tried again, stronger. “Let her go and I’ll agree to option two.” I couldn’t bring myself to be more explicit.

“No, don—” The Lord Commander flicked a hand. A rope of power shot out, wrapped around Hex’s mouth like a gag, and fixed there, glowing blue. She clawed at it to no effect, frantic. He gave a theatrical sigh and narrowed his eyes at me.

“You want to negotiate terms? Consider this. I’ll release Hexara in ten years, based on your good behavior. If you prove difficult, the deal is off.” He lifted an eyebrow. “Can you manage that, do you think? Complete obedience?”

A good question. I was used to biting my tongue. And what choice did I have? He’d won. My brief burst of bravado evaporated, replaced by fear and shame.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I can. I agree.”

His raised hand silenced the crowd. Triumph shone in his eyes.

“Let’s be clear. What exactly are you agreeing to? State it for the court record.”

Face burning, I stared at the floor. The silence pressed in on me, every word a struggle. “I agree to become your consort.”

“Address me by my title. From now on, you’ll speak to me properly. Try again. And look at me this time.”

My whole body was rigid with humiliation. It burned through me in waves as I gazed up at him. His relaxed posture—leaned back, feet crossed at the ankles—scraped against my nerves. As if this was all a diversion. Something to pass the time. I forced the words out one by one, modulating my tone to calm compliance. “I choose to become your consort, Lord Commander.”

He watched me for a long moment, then tore his focus back to the spectators. “I assume you all heard that? This woman, of her own free choice, has volunteered herself as my consort. Your presence is noted, and you may be called on as witnesses to her decision should the need arise. I thank you all for your attendance.”

He addressed the guards. “Return the prisoners to the holding cells for tonight. No need for solitary confinement anymore. She’s made her choice.” Something in the way he said it bothered me. As if he’d got one over on me. “My staff will collect my consort in due course.” He paused.

“One more thing, Livet. I’m going to mark you, for your own protection.” He snapped his fingers. “Come.”

That snap. The demand. He’d given me an order, and I had to obey. I drew in a shaky breath at the truth of it, my brain fogged. I wouldn’t let myself face it. Not yet. My knees screamed as I got to my feet. “Mark me?”

“A temporary brand, affixed with magic. I’ll know where you are at all times.”

He rose and stood in front of me, close enough for me to smell his spicy cologne. For the first time, I viewed him as a person. A real human man. Flesh and blood. A man who could now touch me whenever he wanted. Fear exploded inside me, but I couldn’t fight or run.

I remained frozen to the spot, eyes down, as he raised his hand to my face and brushed my hair behind my ear with surprisingly gentle fingers. He touched my cheekbone, and I shivered as warmth and a tingling sensation passed from his finger into me. It wasn’t unpleasant, but the alien nature of it made my whole body tremble. He’d marked me like a thing. Like his property.

The world spun.

I needed air. Space. To be away from him. His hand disappeared from my cheek and the flow of magic stopped. I drew in desperate breaths, and my vision cleared enough for me to see the shiny marble floor. He stepped back, and my breath came easier.

Focus on the floor. On anything but him.

“I’ll have you brought to my rooms tomorrow. Goodbye, until then.” The dark promise in his words sent a fresh chill down my spine.

A flash of blue swirled at the edge of my vision. I raised my head and took in the space he’d just vacated. He’d teleported again.

The room erupted into chaos. Footsteps, laughter, chatter. The audience moved as a voracious mob, some toward the exits and others in my direction. Cameras flashed. Shouted questions overlapped, hitting my ears in broken staccato. The sound swelled to a buzz, individual voices swallowed up. One slipped through the mayhem.

“Let’s see your face, Livet!”

I clapped my hand over my cheek. It didn’t feel any different. What did it look like? How large was the mark?

The two original guards moved between us and the crowd. Several more herded everyone through the front entrance. Another guard—a woman, this time—gripped my arm and dragged me through the small door we’d entered. I stumbled on uncooperative feet. Green corridors blurred into one until the guard waved me into a cell. Hex followed moments later, back stiff and face tight. The new cell was as bare as the last, but bigger. Four metal-framed beds, a toilet, and a sink.

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