Page 15 of A Story of Sinners

George drew to a stop in front of me and sneered, stowing his dagger away. Aiden rose from his throne, and slowly made his way towards us. He crouched to my level, his face just a hairsbreadth from mine.

“You will do as I say.” Aiden’s minty breath hit my face. “You will wear what I ask you to wear. You will not leave your room unless ordered by me. You will wear those cuffs on your wrist until I deem otherwise. You will play your part during the summit, like the dutiful mistress you are.”

I cringed.

“Any order I give, you follow. Every morning, you will join us for temple. If one thing is clear, you need God in your life.” His eyes narrowed. “And you will stay away from my wife. She is good and doesn’t need the influence of evil, understood?”

My pulse raced at his words, and I knew not to test him, not right now. His stance was aggressive. Intimidating. There was no telling what this man was capable of. I knew it better than anyone else.

I feared him.

I was nothing more than an ant beneath his boot—powerless without magic, weak and feeble. So, I nodded my agreement.

For now.

Aiden rose, towering over me, and though his façade was one of calm, veins bulged just beneath his skin, revealing how he truly felt. On the inside, he was chaos and resentment. I was the one who’d betrayed him, who tore out his heart and stomped it to pieces.

“I didn’t hear a reply.”

He wanted my words. He wanted to witness the last dying embers of resistance.

I swallowed, left with little choice. “Yes, Your Highness. I understand.”

His posture relaxed, and his eyes traced my body, landing on the cuffs. He reached out and gripped my wrist, examining the cuffs. The runes sparkled beneath the candlelight, and he hummed appreciatively. “So iron rune cuffs work on shades. That’s good to know.”

Aiden retreated, leaving me to crumble in humiliation. George followed, but not without issuing one last, scathing look.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t be weak anymore. Something had to change.Ihad to change.

Aiden planted himself back on the throne, and his eyes lazily scanned me and Brandon, evaluating, searching for some sign of disobedience. He lingered on my kneeling form, satisfied with what he found. His voice was a low warning as he dismissed us. “Brandon, don’t let her out of your sight.”

Brandon wrapped his arm around me and whispered. “We need to go. Now.”

Chapter7

Dahlia

Surprisingly, Aiden kept his word the past week. He’d made no attempt to touch me, nor made any advances of a sexual nature. In general, I’d been left well and truly alone. Redmond had been allowed to visit daily, but our visits were short and monitored. There’d been little opportunity to speak freely, but Redmond had made it his mission to get me back to health.

It was slow going, and my appearance remained horrid, but thanks to him, I was no longer too weak to stand on my own two feet.

The only thing required of me was attending temple with Aiden, George, and Gabriella. The two men still treated me with derision, but they’d settled into a form of reluctant acceptance.

Aiden led our procession into the temple with his wife close behind. Gabriella and I often spoke with one another throughout the ceremonies, discussing her parents and her health, but George was always quick to place himself between the two of us—partly to ensure my “wicked ways” didn’t rub off on her, but also simply because he sought to be near her. He used every opportunity to watch his best friend’s wife, eyes lowered, as if worshipping the ground she walked on.

I didn’t miss the slight brush of his hand against hers, nor how he clenched his fist afterwards. Neither did Aiden, but the new king couldn’t seem to care less that his friend coveted his wife.

Gabriella cared, though, and not in a good way. Every time George inched closer, she scooted away. Whenever he whispered to her with bated breath, she shot him a scathing look. She was clearly uncomfortable with his advances, and the romance that once might have blossomed was as good as dead.

We filed into the stone pew at the front of the temple and kneeled on the cushions as the priest chanted in an old dead language. An arm brushed against mine, and I glanced at Brandon, my shadow. He was never far physically, but mentally, he was a world away. He’d kept his distance, shutting down any conversation beyond our day-to-day activities, which mostly consisted of me eating and lying in bed. I’d tried to pry answers from him. Did he already know what I was? How?

Silence was his only response.

“Sorry I’m late; I got caught up,” Brandon whispered, his forehead beaded with sweat, as if he’d just run here.

I didn’t bother asking him where he was or what he’d been doing. A stone wall stood between us, separating our former friendship. There was little point in trying, as I was a prisoner and to be treated as one. Any expansion of familiarity beyond Brandon’s duty would be a betrayal to his king, and he would suffer the consequences. I would suffer, too. If the lines Aiden had put in place were overstepped, the brief reprieve he offered would once again transition into a living nightmare.

My vision narrowed in on the rune cuffs on my wrists and the small chain attached between them. These were not my friends—they were my enemies.

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