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A girl lay in a bed, sobbing, her face hidden in her hands. Glimpses of her bare shoulders peeked through her messy chestnut brown hair, spread across her and the tangled sheets.
A gray-haired man stood over her, sneering as he buttoned his pants. He smoothed his hair as he turned to go. “Make sure you finish your dusting.”
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t wait for a response. He left without another word or a backward glance.
And the moment the door closed behind him, she sat up, her blue eyes narrowed and flashing in her puffy, tear-stained face.
“I’ll do more than that.”
She retrieved her black and white maid uniform from the floor, casting frequent glances at the door as she dressed in haste. A bureau stood across the room from her, and she crept toward it, reaching a trembling hand out to lift the lid from a jewelry box. The sunlight pouring through the window caught on the polished wood and reflected onto the single item within the box, a plain-looking necklace with a clear ovular stone.
She glanced at the door again.
Then she snatched up the brass chain and dropped it into her pocket.
She combed her fingers through her hair, gathered her cleaning supplies, and hurried out of the room and down the hall, hanging her head to hide her face.
“Good morning, Iris.”
Micah’s voice and a sharp shake of her shoulder dragged Iris into consciousness. She whimpered, and then she felt the mattress shift beside her, and she tensed. This was his bed. His room. And when she opened her eyes, she’d see his face.
But if she didn’t respond soon, he’d shake her again. She didn’t want to feel any more pain than was necessary.
She opened her eyes.
He’d propped himself up on an elbow next to her, twirling a lock of her hair around his finger and looking down on her with eyes as cold as ice. “Did you hear the past bearers at all last night?”
“No.” Her voice wasn’t harsh; her throat wasn’t raw. It felt wrong when the rest of her ached and burned.
“Any dreams?”
She swallowed. “I… I think I saw my mother stealing the amulet.”
“Interesting.”
Micah studied her for a moment, silent and motionless but for his finger playing with her hair. All Iris could do was wait. She didn’t know how or why she had that dream; she only knew hiding anything from him would lead to more pain.
“A maid, about sixteen years old, with brown hair and blue eyes?”
“Yes. He… There was a man, an older man with gray hair, and he…”
“Raped her,” Micah finished for Iris, as dispassionate as ever. “I made my master tell me everything before I killed him.” He chuckled. “To keep that amulet in such an insecure location, and to rape the very girl responsible for keeping it in pristine condition—I would have been more surprised if she hadn’t stolen it. And then it took him two years to track her down. She told him she pawned it, and the fool believed her.”
Two years. Meaning Iris could have been a little over a year old when her mother left her at the church—unless her mother abandoned her earlier than that.
She had only been a girl. Just sixteen years old.
“Is… is she dead?”
Micah scoffed. “Of course. My late master couldn’t have anyone discovering his folly, could he?”
And yet, it had ruined so many lives.
He picked up the amulet with his left hand, studying it in the rays of sunshine spilling through the window. It looked the same now as it had in the dream: worthless. Useless.
“But he was a capable mage and an adequate teacher. I suppose he is where your power comes from. Mages tend to breed mages, with a few notable exceptions.” His cold blue eyes flicked from the amulet to her face. “My parents had no magical ability at all.”
His eyes dropped to her lips.
Much as she wanted to, she didn't turn away. The slightest movement meant excruciating pain, and she knew she would have plenty of that soon enough.
But, as with his handling of her the previous night, his kiss this morning was soft and painless.
He set the amulet in the center of her chest, not even pressing it into her as he often did. His hand glided across her curves, and his lips traveled across her face and neck, and she held still, fighting the waves of nausea sweeping over her. This felt tender, affectionate, even.
But she knew better.
“I’m feeling generous this morning, Iris,” he breathed into her ear. “Drop your shield from the fairies so I can summon them, and I’ll only kill one of them. I’ll allow the rest to tend to you as they did before, and I may consider giving you more time to recover before I continue this.”
There it was. The threat she’d been dreading the most.
She squeezed her eyes shut. “I… I don’t know how.”
“Oh?”
She heard the danger in that single syllable and hastened to continue. “I haven’t been shielding them. At least, I haven’t been doing it consciously. If I knew how…”
She trailed off, because even if she knew how, she wouldn’t do what he was asking. She wouldn’t sacrifice even one fairy for herself.
And he knew that.
He sighed. He brushed away the tear sliding down her cheek, and she hoped. Prayed. Just once, couldn’t the lie in his gentle touch be real?
“Iris.” He sighed again. His lips pressed into the corner of her eye. “Sweet little Iris. You leave me no choice.”
Another tear slipped free. “Please. You don’t have to do this.”
The bed shifted. His weight settled on top of her; she felt his hands at her collar.
“You’re right,” he said, his voice suddenly hard as stone. “I don’t have to do this.” Fabric tore. “I want to do this.”
There was nothing she could do. Every movement sent fire shooting through her body. She couldn’t fight him, and it was easier to allow the pain to overwhelm her than to think about what he was doing to her—although he wouldn’t let her retreat within herself. He kept talking to her, as he always did, honeyed, poisoned words dripping from his tongue, compliments and threats woven together too tight to separate one from the other, finding their way through the roar of agony to pierce her mind. His laughter found its way to her, too, mocking her involuntary whimpers and cries.
And when it was over, he was back to the false tenderness that drove the hurt in deeper, holding her as she sobbed.
“Iris. Sweet little Iris,” he murmured, his voice soft as down. “Do you understand what it means to be mine now? If you do as I say, it won’t be like this again.”
Again.
Everything within her recoiled from that word.
A fire lit in her chest, a burning rage. She’d never hated a person before, but now she understood the sheer hatred she’d seen in her mother’s eyes.
This wouldn’t happen again.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret, Iris. I’ve been losing the war on purpose. That last battle should have the dragons preparing their final strike. I’m expecting their entire army to arrive within the next few days, and though I will advise the king not to take to the field, he will, sadly, ignore my advice and sacrifice his life for his people.”
He sighed, as if disappointed or saddened, but his smirk belied his heart—or lack thereof.
“And unfortunately, he never married. No queen, no heir to the throne, and the last of his relatives mysteriously died or disappeared recently. It’s tragic. I’ll have no choice but to save this kingdom from the cruel dragons who have been razing every habitation they encounter to the ground, military and civilian alike, and though it will pain me to do so, I will consent to take the throne.”
He chuckled and kissed her cheek. His fingers threaded through her sweaty hair. She had already felt disgusting when she woke up in a sweat-soaked, grimy nightgown, but she felt filthier than a pigsty now.
“And this is where you come in, because unlike the current occupant of the throne, I have a vested interest in leaving a lasting legacy on this world. Your inherent power makes you the logical choice for my queen. An endless source of power, and a high likelihood of producing offspring suitable enough for me to entrust with my secrets.”
He kissed her on the lips this time. His tongue slipped inside her mouth, and for a moment, she feared he’d hurt her again. She tensed, heart pounding, and then he pulled back, hovering over her with a smug smirk.
“And, of course, you are so wonderfully malleable to my demands.” He chuckled and gave her a peck on the lips. “I regret to say I have a busy day of twisting the king around my finger, so I will have to leave you now. I’ll send a maid at midday to get you cleaned up after you’ve had time to rest.”
The relief escaped her in a single exhale when he climbed off of her and out of the bed. She closed her eyes, crying in silence and listening as he moved about the room getting dressed, but the hot tears streaming down her face and the fiery pain surging through her body were nowhere near as hot as the anger in her chest.
This would keep happening unless she stopped it.
His master killed a man for the amulet. Her mother stole the amulet in an act of vengeance against the man who raped her. Micah spent his life stealing magic and killing others in his search for it.
There would be no end to this cycle until she got rid of the amulet.
The door opened and closed.
She opened her eyes. She was alone.
She forced herself to sit up, biting her tongue to silence her cry of pain. The throbbing between her thighs didn’t go away when she held still. She knew she would heal eventually, but the scars he’d left on her heart and mind would always remain.
She hated him.
You can fight him, Iris.
Her eyes widened. The soft, rhythmic pulsing of the crystal was back. The whispers were back.
She reached for the amulet, wincing from the movement. Her fingers tightened around the gentle warmth emanating from the stone. It was calling to her. The crystal was calling to her. She had to find it.
She had to end this.
She stood, and a wave of agony shot up her legs and across her arm as she grabbed the bedpost for support. Her breath came in ragged bursts. She was going nowhere if she didn’t do something about this pain, but wouldn’t she weaken herself even more if she used her magic to heal herself? And what if Micah felt her using magic?
You can fight him.
She heard a soft tapping at the window, and when she looked, she felt new tears spring to her eyes—tears of relief. The fairy was there, tapping at the glass.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and pulled the warmth from the amulet out into her body. It washed over her in soothing waves, pushing the aches and the lingering flames away.
She opened her eyes again. She felt good. Not weak at all, and pain free.
How…?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter.
She walked to the window and opened the latch with ease. The fairy zipped straight to her lips with a burst of warmth, and she smiled. “Yes, I’m glad to see you, too.”
The fairy darted in circles around her, and that, along with the chilly air from the open window, reminded her she was naked. She closed the window and hugged herself as she turned back to the room.
The decor was consistent with the glimpses of luxury she’d seen upon entering the castle. A plush red carpet covering the center of the floor, gold inlays decorating the dark oak bed posts, red and gold bedding—Micah was already living as the king, even if he didn’t yet bear the title.
The sound of running water drew her eyes to a red and gold dressing screen. She peeked around it and saw steaming water filling a claw-footed bathtub.
“Oh, thank goodness.” She stepped into the tub and sighed her contentment as the hot water rose. Sweat, blood, grime—she wanted every trace of Micah gone from her body.
The fairy whizzed away. She heard the groan of drawers opening and closing, and she knew the fairy was looking for something she could wear.
She felt the pulse of the crystal echoing through the amulet. It thrummed through her heart, and when she opened her eyes, she saw the water rippling away from her.
She reached for the soap. There was no time for her to soak and relax.
Tearful blue eyes flashed before her vision.
I’m sorry, Iris. I love you.
She sucked in her breath and dropped the soap.
The girl tucked the amulet under the blanket. She kissed Iris on the forehead, and then she was gone.7Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSC6YxIOCg7
