Crowns of resemblance, p.23
Crowns of Resemblance, page 23
And although he scrutinizes me for another long moment before tucking back into his meal, a leaden weight settles in my depth as I realize another ugly truth.
My chances for escape dwindle with each second I spend in his presence. I’d rather march myself to the gallows than dare speak life to the thought, but I’ll never be rid of the hold the King of Risian has on my soul.
“You can sleep on the settee,” I say, not bothering to glance over my shoulder as Felix steps to the side and pushes open the door to the chamber.
I hiss as I pull off the satin slippers. Though a fire crackles in the hearth, the stone is cold beneath my heels.
“I’m not sleeping on the settee and neither are you.” I freeze as his breath fans across the back of my neck.
A thick, pregnant silence descends between us as he unravels the laces of my corset. Each lace that is undone does little to aid the pressure that sits atop my chest. It’s far too intimate.
“It’s no surprise you’ve become an expert at unlacing corsets, seeing the number of women that all but fall at your feet.”
His fingers still. “Yes, Ellesandra. Countless women have warmed my bed over the centuries.” His next words are a murmur into the shell of my ear. “Yet each time I was inside of them, it was thoughts of you that brought me to completion.”
Although need ricochets through the bond and blooms between my legs, I snort. The gown falls to my ankles when he finishes undoing the remaining laces, leaving me in a simple black chemise. Gooseflesh erupts on my arms as I step away and the night air pricks at my skin.
Climbing into the featherbed, I scoot to the far left side and face the wall. I curse when the scent of ocean and pine swathes the bond in warmth. The bed dips a moment later. While sharing a meal with the Risian King is regrettable enough, sharing a bed is another, more dangerous matter.
The thread in my chest yearns for me to roll over and become a mess of tangled limbs with its mate. It whispers deceitful memories that see a shiver work down my spine, calls for me to be all but wrapped in his skin.
“Stop thinking.”
My breathing stills as a strong arm bands around my waist and yanks me backward. All thoughts of what his command refers to cease to exist when the warmth of his chest seeps into my back.
My mind screams for me to put distance between us, but a sigh falls from my lips when he inhales deeply against the crook of my neck. “They’ll never be you.”
The words echo through my mind like the sweetest of lullabies until my eyelids become heavy and darkness washes over me.
Ellesandra,
I dreamt of you again last night.
It's the same dream I've spent five hundred years trying to forget.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Felix
“Word arrived from Brealan this morning.”
I peer up from the laces of my boots and squint to see past dusk’s rays. Ashe’s footsteps are soundless as he approaches, but my eyes are immediately drawn to the scroll that dangles between his fingers.
To keep myself sharp when I’m not in the middle of open warfare, I take to the training grounds three times a week. Although it helps keep my combat skills up to par, it’s the silence that I look forward to most.
As a young king, I was taught that too much quiet was a bad omen. It’s here, though, that I came to understand the peace that’s found within silence. No agonizing cries nor the stench of blood smothers the air. Here, while most of the castle remains asleep, I leave the crown behind and allow my mind to be freed.
My brows inch up when Ashe’s shadow blocks the sun. He wears a plain black tunic with matching breeches, and his longsword rests at his hip. While it’s not out of the ordinary for Ashe to rise early, it’s usually Thorin who joins me for training.
Annoyance fills me as he wordlessly extends a scroll into the space between us and moves to sit on the bench beside me. Brealan is certainly no friend to my kingdom—my father had taken up arms against King Alardin the moment Ellesandra was all but sold to the Brealan Prince—but I haven’t the slightest idea what the old fool may want.
I sigh and run my thumb along the forest green seal. It’s embossed with two swords intersecting one another, and a flaming arrow in the center. The blood-soaked past we share tells me it’s nothing good, especially considering I’m the one who deposed King Alardin’s only heir. That’s a death I make no apologies for. It was necessary in order to secure Ellesandra’s freedom from marriage.
Just like his father, Calor Brunet was a smug bastard who thought himself to be untouchable because he hailed from the largest and wealthiest kingdom. His arrogance only increased tenfold when he married the most beautiful woman to ever grace the continent. He stood to rule not only one, but two kingdoms, and had both the men and gold to back any heirs he and Ellesandra might have had.
I should be thankful for his over inflated sense of self importance, I suppose. Without it, I wouldn’t have met him on the battlefield and been provided the opportunity to gut him from belly to balls.
Tearing the scroll from the parchment, I scan the letter.
King of Risian,
It seems congratulations are due. Word of your victory has spread, as has the current state of my daughter-in-law’s kingdom. There comes a time when one must raise their sword and get a firm grasp of control on a matter, as it seems you have come to understand.
This is not why I write to you, however. If the whispers that reach my ears are to be believed, you have now laid claim to the kingdom of Minalis and kidnapped its queen. Per the terms that were agreed upon and brought to fruition with my son’s marriage to Ellesandra Sorrell, Minalis remains irrevocably tied to Brealan.
So long as breath remains in the Queen of Minalis’ body, this agreement stands. You, however, may continue to hold dominion over Risian, and Risian alone. Despite our history, I have no desire to take my men from their families when they’ve only just returned. I imagine this is a sentiment you return in kind.
While you are welcome to do as you please with her, I implore you to remember who Minalis and its queen belong to. She is to remain unwed and without an heir.
Should you fail to meet these terms, I will be left with no choice but to take up arms against your kingdom once more. It’s come to my attention that a celebration ball is to be held within a fortnight in your kingdom. I have sent an envoy in lieu of my place. He will await your response.
Regards,
Alardin Brunet
“What does he want?” Ashe questions.
I snort, though icy rage spreads through my chest like wildfire. “To rule not one but two kingdoms apparently.”
The King of Brealan’s heedless ambitions come as no surprise. Being my father’s heir, I spent many evenings in his study listening to his endless tirades about our enemies. While I reduced much of what he said to maddening paranoia, he was right to advise me to keep a watchful eye on Alardin Brunet.
I’d expected this letter would arrive the moment I laid siege to the Amber Palace, and even planned for it accordingly. But it’s not the high-reaching fingers of the Brealan King that see my jaw clench and my hand ball into a fist at my side.
Belong. It’s that word that sees red creep along the edges of my vision. Belong. The bond roars to life as my eyes catch on the word once more and lashes out in a primal sense of possessiveness. My jaw clenches further—so tightly it’s a blessing from the stars themselves if one of my teeth doesn’t crack—in a poor attempt to fight against the being inside my chest. Claim, protect, possess, it chants.
I rub my jaw and use the feeling of the short, rough hair beneath my palm to prevent me from doing what the bond wishes me to do. To prevent me from abandoning my training, marching to the chamber I know she’s in, hiking up her sleeping gown, and fucking her until there’s no question of who she belongs to.
“Felix.” I turn my head and allow Ashe’s voice to ground me. He jerks his chin toward the parchment that crumples in my fist. “What else?”
The spots of red in my vision return with the mere thought of the Brealan bastard. “He says that Minalis will remain under his control.” The breath I blow out is a whistle between my teeth. “And that Ellesandra belongs to him. Should she marry and bear an heir, he’s promised war.”
Though I’ve shared little—save for necessary information—of what I have in mind for my future with Ellesandra, I know that Ashe has an inkling of my plans. Both Ashe and Thorin understood what my intentions were when I commanded my forces to retreat and lay siege to Solei.
Unlike my council though, the two men know there’s little point in trying to sway me. The only reason the council heard of my plans in the first place was to hopefully put an end to the thousand year war Risian has been entangled in. While gaining control of Minalis was a means to an end for them, it was never front and center in my mind. My primary focus has always been her.
Ashe stands and unsheathes the steel from his side in response. “Let’s go.”
Although I’m no longer in the mood for training, I know it’s something I must do. Lords and ladies throughout Risian flock to the Selenic Palace as we speak. The tension radiating through my body needs to be released if I’m to endure hosting a ball. I don’t mind engaging in conversation with my people, but their exuberance has lost its shine after five centuries.
With a sigh, I lean down and finish lacing up my boots before grabbing my sword. Seeing that the training yard is a circle of compacted brown earth, we’re given free range to move about.
The moment I lift my sword, Ashe steps in front of me and lunges forward. The singing of steel against steel cuts through the air as I parry. Sweat forms on my brow as I block the next attack, though my movements are nimble as I go on the offensive. The clashing of swords and the occasional grunt are the only sounds to be heard for several minutes, but I don’t mind.
Although I’d rather cut off my arm than seriously injure my brother, I find myself thinking of the ways I’ll kill Alardin Brunet should I ever meet him on the battlefield. Just the way I gutted his son, I decide. It’s poetic, I suppose, and I’ve rather come to enjoy poetry. Stories of knights and princesses become dull in the face of five hundred and one years.
“So,” Ashe says between grunts. “It seems our Queen is adjusting nicely.”
Nicely. That’s rich. Since the dinner we shared together over a week ago, she’s barely spoken a word to me. Instead, she lives to infuriate me by insisting all of her meals be brought to her chambers. While they’re my chambers, strictly speaking, it seems to be the only place she finds some semblance of calm.
As much as I ache each night to take her into my arms and whisper the words her soul longs to hear, it would be of little use. The moment I kissed her at the dinner table, I recognized the look in her eyes. It’s the ghost of a look that has appeared behind my eyelids each night, the last emotion I saw in her eyes that night so many years ago.
She’s scared. I’d been almost giddy when I came to recognize the fear that stared back at me after I finished tasting her lips. Elated, even, that my touch finally coaxed some sort of emotion from her. Fear I could work with.
But then she snapped shut as quick as a clam at the bottom of the sea that holds the most precious jewel. While I’ve attempted to goad her into conversation in hopes we’ll fall back into what was once our normal banter, she says nothing.
So, after the day is done, desolate silence greets me when I enter our chamber. The thread in my chest entices me to pull any emotion I can to the surface. Anger, hatred, rage, disdain. Anything is better than the shell of a person she’s become. Each night I lie beside her, she refuses to look at me.
Although I haven’t tried to touch her, she lays as far away from me as possible each night. Even if her divine scent is slowly unraveling the threads of my sanity, I can’t find comfort elsewhere.
“‘Nicely’ is a loose term,” I grind out finally, blocking my right side from Ashe’s attack.
“Well, you still remain among the living, so I think we can consider that a victory,” he says between breaths. “She just needs time and then she’ll be right as rain.”
As if.
Ellesandra,
Do you know how infuriating you are? I tried to drink the memory of you away. That earned me a bloody lip and a severe headache. Burying myself in the finest whores Risian has to offer ended similarly.
I hate you.
Come back to me.
Chapter Thirty
Ellesandra
I’m a prisoner. I don’t belong here. I’m finally going mad.
These are the things I repeat to myself in my mind, a mantra that fades when my lungs scream and I’m left with no choice but to draw breath. No matter if I pinch the bridge of my nose and inhale through my mouth, I taste the woods and ocean on my tongue.
His scent is everywhere.
It sticks to the bed sheets. Clings to my dressing gown like a leech that seeks to bleed my resistance dry. It’s been a week since I arrived in this stars blasted kingdom, but I remain a prisoner in all senses of the word.
My powers haven’t returned. Each night I close my eyes and will them to the surface, the bond takes any thoughts of escape captive the moment it catches his scent.
The war rages on with the slow passing days, leaving me exhausted despite the fact I don’t lift a finger. I’ve read through most of the books that line the shelf above the hearth. While I’d be grateful for new reading material, I’d rather carve my own heart out than ask the Risian King for directions to the library.
The alternative—that I leave this chamber—is far more deadly. With each night that Felix lies beside me, I turn the possibilities over in my mind. Finding comfort in the arms of another would be ideal, or better yet, taking the four strides across the room and fleeing. Though I know the risks far outweigh the sliver of hope that remains, the idea becomes more tantalizing each day. Even without my powers.
If I did have my powers, I’m not sure how my magic would react to my mirror soul’s. If the incident with Felix’s shadows on the day of my arrival is any indication, they would smother one another, refusing to part even in death. A mirthless chuckle escapes my throat. That would surely be my luck if the stars got their wish.
Besides, it’s a life I have no interest in living. I’ve grown accustomed to looking over my shoulder and defending myself against the enemy, but fleeing would be different. Felix would raze the continent to find me. Returning to Minalis wouldn’t be possible.
Unless I kill him.
Bitter cold spreads through my chest and settles beneath my rib cage with the thought. The feeling tells me that our bond won’t allow me to harm him. Funny, seeing that it’s only the mirror of one’s soul who can bring about their death. It’s a twisted sense of protection, I suppose. Rendering those who have been blessed by the bond with the inability to be killed, unless it’s by the hand of the one their soul loves most.
The alternative possibility, however, is equally grim. It would call for me to break an oath I swore to myself long ago, tarnishing the memory of the person I loved most. To push the past aside and move forward with the man who claims to love me would mean that all my grief was for naught. To give in to him would shatter the woman I’ve spent five hundred years creating.
No, I can’t allow myself to return his love. Not that he’s deserving of it, anyway. I’ll never disgrace myself by stooping to those lows, no matter if it forces me into madness. Giving us what we want doesn’t mean you have to return his love, the bond whispers into the back of my mind. I throw the thick furs back and push to my feet with the sensual inflection of its words.
While I know this damnable thread in my chest only seeks to achieve what’s been written by the stars, there’s a small amount of truth to the statement. Crossing the room, I prop my elbow on the hearth and drum my fingernails against the stone. Maybe if I give it what it desires, it’ll leave me be.
My mother always said that there can be too much of a good thing. Not that anything that concerns the King of Risian can be considered a good thing, but the principle still applies. It’s a risk, to be sure, but it’s also the only thing that will ensure I have a clear enough mind to discover my path to escape.
I would be giving in to the bond’s desires, yes, but not surrendering completely. If the stars are good, after lying with him, the thread in my chest won’t be so sensitive to his scent. I’m not so delusional to believe that it will ever leave me to peace, but perhaps it’ll grow bored after a time. An unknown amount of time.
My feet wear a path into the stone as I pace. If my mother’s thoughts ring true, and my assumptions are proven correct, I’ll be able to properly sort my thoughts once more. But I know how perilous this road is. It’s far more dangerous than fleeing, seeing that I have no knowledge of what choosing this path may bring. It would be the largest wager of my life. One that has the ability to bring me to my knees with a single misstep.
Felix’s desire burns with an intensity I feel each night he lies beside me, but it’s not seduction he craves. He’s certainly had enough of that in the last five centuries. No, he craves for me to bare my soul to him, reignite the embers of a love that died long ago. And should I give him a taste of what he hungers for, he’ll continue to push at the walls within my mind until I fall into him. If he—
I pause midstep when I raise my head and see the door handle to the chamber soundlessly turning. With the sun ever hanging low in the sky, creating the illusion of dusk until it turns to night, I have no indication of time. Which means I can’t know when the Risian King finishes up his duties for the day.
Blessedly, the thread in my chest is calm and unmoving. While I’m able to breathe easier knowing it’s not Felix, curiosity washes over me as the door swings open and Goldie steps through.
