Chapter 120: Chapter 120
Blood pools in my mouth. My neck snaps left, my vision swimming and everything goes temporarily black as the world dulls around the edges. I lose my footing and hit the ground on trembling legs.
The only sound that can be heard in the room is my angry, ragged breathing, and hard rise and fall of Rafael’s chest as he watches me shake off the effect of the blow.
Through the blur, I see his eyes widen. And then he drops to his knees in front of me and reaches for me tenderly. I flinch, scrambling back, but there is nowhere to run and my spine hits the bedframe.
He touches me any, grabbing my jaw and forcing it forward until our noses nearly touch. "I am trying to be patient with you, Valka, but you do not leave me with much of a choice." He jerks my head to the side forcefully, eyes narrowing where my eyes have begun to swell shut. "Do not think that my soft spot for you means I will not discipline you when needed. Your tantrums will be rewarded with punishments. Your defiance will be greeted with pain. For every fight you bring my way, I will break you harder, deeper, until you very well understand what I am to you now. You are in my cage and I hold the keys to your life. I *own* you."
Tears brim in my eyes. "You cannot own what was never yours."
He flashes me a crooked smile. "No, but I have no problems stealing it. Besides," His breath teases my cheek and it curdles my stomach. I shove at him, but he catches my hands like we’re playing an intimate game. "I had you first. And I intend to keep you. I mourned you, do you know that?"
"Get away from me," I cry, leaning back from his lips as they begin to skim across my skin, along my jaw.
"Weeks," he groans. "And you still reek of him." I begin thrashing against him when his mouth brushing my ear, catching my skin between his canines.
Nausea swells inside me and I force it back, tears trickling from my eyes as I begin to thrash, kick and resist his grip. I’ve never felt this weak in my entire life. And while I know it has everything to do with the collar and the still healing wounds in my belly and all the poison in my veins, I despise it. Myself.
Rafael drawls back, brushing up my hair and he growls at the sight of my arched ear points. "They have turned you into a monster." He touches the pointed arch. "But I will fix you. You will be perfect."
To no one in particular he says, "Send them in."
My eyes coasts to the door and five maids enter, their gazes lowered to the ground. They’re all blondes. Slight in figure. As short as me, with varying shades of brown eyes.
"Prepare her for the feast," he says, lips curving. "I should like to introduce my prize to Court."
They file my fangs until my gums began bleeding.
They cut the arch of my ears into a round shape and douse it in silver to keep it from healing and mending.
They dress me in sheer clothing that exposed every inch of my naked skin underneath to the world and then, they bound my wrists and ankles to the chain attached to my collar. My skin is painted in oils, my hair coiffed. Official source ıs n0velfire.net
A prized mare. The captured mate of the Dark King.
The entirety of Silvermoor came to watch. They eye me with want, even as they splatter me in pig’s and dog’s blood. They curse me, even as the king’s guards let them run their hands along my body in the too narrow path I walked. They tug me by my collar like I am an animal and when I fall, they yank on the leash and drag me along with it.
The walk of shame. Mine.
Every jeer, every hand, every mouth that spits my name like filth, it’s all part of Rafael’s theatre. He wants them to see me ruined, to remember that even a royal of Ebonheart can bleed, can crawl, can be brought low. The Queen of a kingdom that has battled and killed their sons for so many years, brought to her knees and trembling for mercy.
They didn’t know better, didn’t know that there didn’t have to be a war, didn’t know that every time Lucien fought, he always extended an option for a truce and was turned down. They didn’t know what true tyranny was, sitting right in front of them.
Or maybe they did, but preferred to have a scapegoat, one shaped like the enemy.
And I weep, not for myself. But for Lucien. Because he would never tell, would never share, but he must have suffered worse. I can feel it in the bond’s hollow ache, the echo of a pain that once was his and now is mine. And for that reason, I cannot break.
Because that is what Rafael wants. To peel me open, to tear out my defiance and make me believe I deserve the leash. He wants to make me beg, not for mercy, but for permission to exist. To look at my own reflection and see nothing left worth saving.
They throw me at the foot of the dais, and bring my face to the stone at Rafael’s feet, forcing my lips to scrape the toes of his boots. And Lilith’s.
They sing tales of her bravery in helping capture the Dark King. They make toasts to the demise of my husband. And empty their goblets down my head.
And when the show is done, I am left in the corner, to be picked at and prodded with the edge of blades and sticks, like I am naught more than a different kind of beast they have never seen before.
Maybe I am. I am cornered. I am bruised. And something has been stolen from me. Someone.
I stare at them and understand. That Lucien was no villain. He wasn’t evil. The heart of evil was here and now. And we will always be prey.