Page 45 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
The realization hits me like a blow; how quickly everything has changed. Not long ago, I felt like a nobody, invisible and insignificant. But now, standing beside him, I can feel the weight of their respect, even admiration, pressing around me. Warmth unfurls in my chest, unfamiliar and almost frightening in its intensity. I’ve never felt this accepted, wanted, or at home.
As we move through the shadowed corridors, his hand steady in mine, that warmth seeps deeper, curling into the corners of my being. For the first time in what feels like forever, I know I’ll feel safe tonight. I’ll share a bed with him, the man who brought me to this place. The thought nestles into my bones, a strangecomfort that feels both foreign and welcome. But still, a quiet question stirs at the edge of my mind, will I truly be safe?
I steal a glance at his profile, etched in flickering torchlight. Doubt lingers, creeping in like a shadow I can’t shake. I’ve felt this way before, haven’t I? That fleeting warmth, that false sense of security, with someone who once cradled my heart so tenderly. Henry.
He wasn’t always the man I came to fear. In the beginning, he was sweet, thoughtful, careful with me in a way that felt like safety. Gentle words, small comforts—until that gentleness sharpened, twisted, and became something I barely survived. The memory claws at me, and I wonder if I’m walking the same dangerous path again. Could this warmth someday morph into something dark, something cruel?
Before the thought can take hold, his grip tightens slightly, his thumb brushing over my knuckles in a gesture so simple yet grounding. The doubt wavers, retreating under his touch. I look at him—this fierce, unyielding king who chose me. Not because he needed control or found me weak, but because he wanted me. And that truth, as alien as it feels, soothes an ache I hadn’t realized was there.
The hallway opens into a vast, breathtaking hall. Vaulted ceilings stretch above us, their heights reminiscent of a night sky, faintly illuminated by the soft glow of candles nestled in iron sconces. The floor gleams with black marble streaked with veins of silver, each step echoing through the space. At the far end, a massive hearth crackles with golden light, casting warmth and shadows that dance together across the room. A week ago, I was just trying to survive in a world that seemed determined to reject me. Now, I stand in the heart of his kingdom, his hand holding mine, my heart venturing into uncharted territory. And for the first time, I dare to hope that maybe—just maybe—I’ve found a place where I belong.
He stops before a pair of towering double doors, his sharp gaze softening as he turns to me. “The journey’s been long, and you’ve endured more than anyone should. What would you like first, Brielle? A bath? Food? Rest? Whatever you need, tell me.”
His voice was gentle, sincere, carrying a care I wasn’t used to. For a moment, my mind went blank, struggling to grasp the sensation of someone offering to take care of me instead of using me for their own gain. I found my voice, slow and unsure. “A bath… sounds nice.” I glanced down at myself, the grime from Nyria’s cells still clinging to me like a stain I couldn’t scrub away.
He smiled, his gaze lingering on me with an intensity that sent a shiver through my chest. “A bath does sound lovely. As you wish.” He turned to one of the crow-headed servants, calling out, “Isthra, please take Brielle to my quarters and set up the bath.”
Isthra bowed deeply, her beady eyes softening as she extended a hooked arm in my direction.
I took her arm, casting a glance over my shoulder at him. His eyes gleamed, the smile on his lips wicked and full of promises. “See you soon,” he murmured before disappearing down another corridor.
As Isthra led me down the hallway, the silence was heavy, broken only by the faint rustle of her robes. There was an elegant darkness here, the walls draped in deep, textured tapestries, their intricate symbols hinting at a history I hadn’t yet begun to understand. Each shadow seemed alive, each corner teeming with mysteries I couldn’t begin to fathom. We eventually arrived at a smaller chamber, though “small” was a relative term. It was larger than any room I’d ever claimed as my own. The space glowed with warmth from a massive, intricately carved fireplace at one end. Its mantel was adorned with dark, polished stones, with a single striking feather resting atop them. The walls were a deep slate, silver sconces casting a soft, flickering light. In thecenter, surrounded by dark wood and velvet, stood a massive tub.
I sank into a plush purple velvet lounge in the corner of the room as Isthra began preparing the bath. It didn’t take long before the water was steaming, the fragrant vapor curling lazily into the cool air.
“I’ll leave you to undress, my lady,” Isthra said with a soft bow. “There are oils and soaps along the side.” With a final glance, she closed the door quietly behind her, leaving me alone in the hush of Thorne’s quarters.
I hesitated, taking in the room—its foreign elegance and the heavy presence of him. His scent of smoke and cedar lingered in the fabric and shadows, a reminder of his presence even in his absence. Slowly, I began to undress, the relief of shedding not just the dirt of the road but the weight of everything I had carried from Nyria’s prison.
The water is warm as I sink into it, a sigh of relief escaping as the heat works its way into my muscles, easing away the tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. The oils scent the water with sandalwood and something floral. For a moment, I let myself slip under the surface, the water cocooning me, washing away the remnants of pain and old memories.
When I surface, I rest against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, letting my mind drift. That’s when I felt it—his presence.
He’s standing in the doorway, arms crossed, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his lips. "Excuse me," I say, raising an eyebrow. "I didn’t invite you in."
His smile widens, amusement flickering in his gaze. "So bossy already," he murmurs, voice low and playful."Command me to leave, then."
A thrill runs through me, dark and exciting. This man has such an effect on me. "As if you’d listen. This is your castle, after all."
The spark in his eyes dims slightly, replaced with something deeper, more intense. "That’s where you’re wrong, my queen. This is as much yours as it is mine." He steps forward, his voice dropping to a growl that seems to shake the air. "And I would listen to your commands... unless it’s more fun to disobey them."
A slow heat spreads through me, but I play it cool, feigning indifference. "Men don’t take commands from their women. Queen or not."
His eyes never leave me, studying me with an intensity that’s almost tangible. "Command me to kill for you, and I will. I’ve done it before," he says, his voice raw, the truth of it sending a fire through me. "Tell me to get on my hands and knees and crawl to you right now, and I will."
I feel my pulse quicken at the image of him; this powerful man, kneeling before me. The thought heats me to my very core, but I hold his gaze, steadying myself. Finally, I breathe in and let the words out slowly on my breath. "Crawl to me."
His eyes darken, desire radiating off of him, as he slowly lowers himself. His hands splay against the stone floor in silent reverence, his movements dark and graceful. One knee hits the ground, then the other, his broad chest rising and falling as he steadies himself on his hands. Every movement feels like a surrender, as though he’s giving himself to the command I’ve issued, a submission I never fully believed he’d obey.
He crawls toward me, each inch bringing him closer, his head tilting slightly, as if to catch every shift in my expression, every flicker of my pulse. His hands trace the floor in a stalking way, as if he plans to devour me, his gaze trailing up my legs with a heated intensity that sends my mind reeling and my stomach fluttering. As he nears, his eyes roam over me, drinking in the sight of me submerged, droplets glistening on my skin. He reaches the edge of the tub, his breath shallow and heated, hiseyes dark as he traces the contours of my face, my shoulders, lingering where water meets skin.
"Tell me what you want, my queen," he murmurs, his voice rough with barely contained need. The sound of his restraint makes my hips move slightly forward, responding to his need as if they are old friends. "Tell me how to serve you." His words are so foreign to me, I draw a slow breath, every nerve alive as he raises his hand to skim the water’s surface. His eyes burn with need, yet he kneels there, patient and unyielding, his gaze holding mine like a vow.
With my voice barely a whisper, I manage, "Touch me."
His lips curl slightly, a dark smile forming as he leans forward, his mouth just inches from my shoulder, his breaths shallow. He brings his hand to rest beside my knee, testing my reaction, his thumb skimming the edge of my skin beneath the water. He’s at my command, this king who wields entire kingdoms to his will, and yet here he kneels, his own will handed over to me.
His fingers slide slowly up the inside of my thigh, the water rippling softly with each touch. He’s patient, moving with steady purpose, his gaze locked on mine, dark and heated. There’s something in the way he looks at me, a promise, a quiet intensity, that makes my pulse quicken even more and my breath catch. His hand moves higher, brushing against that tender ache he knows I feel, taking his time as if savoring this moment as much as I am.
