Page 12 of Bride of the Black Dragon
I try to express this to the Queen, but she quickly grows impatient with me.
“Don’t be foolish, girl!” she snaps. “Just wear the gown I sent you and be sure to show yourself off. Xaren is a red-blooded male—he’ll bed you quick enough, given the chance.”
“But what if he won’t?” I persist.
Her poison green eyes narrow and she glares at me.
“Why, then we’d have no use for you—you’d be nothing but trash,” she says in a menacing voice. “And you know what we do with trash, don’t you? We throw it out!”
Her words make my stomach knot, as though I swallowed a lump of ice. I know instinctively that she’s not just talking about throwing me out on the street to fend for myself—which would be bad enough. No, she’s talking of disposing of me in a much more permanent way, if I don’t obey her and serve her purpose.
I think again of the two beheadings I’ve seen since I got here. I don’t want to be next to the chopping block.
The Queen smoothes her skirts and straightens her shoulders. She gives me a benevolent smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Now—you’re to go to Prince Xaren’s rooms tonight and offer yourself to him and let him bed you. And you will stay with him the entire night. And the night after that and the night after that—until the Court Physician is satisfied that you’re pregnant. Do I make myself clear?”
“Very…very clear, Your Majesty,” I say, the words sticking in my throat, which is suddenly dry as dust.
“Good. Because I’m going to post a servant to be certain you don’t leave Xaren’s rooms until morning. Now, you’re excused.”
She makes a shooing gesture with one hand and it’s clear that I’m dismissed.
I leave her private library quickly and quietly but inside my mind is in turmoil.
Tonight I must go and offer myself to the Dark Prince…if I don’t, I’m dead.
8
ELAINA
That night, after Tanzy fusses over my hair and I dress in the white lace gown and my silk robe, I slip out into the hallway. My maid thinks I’m going to Prince Dorian’s rooms again. Apparently it’s not unheard of for Royal couples to spend days apart and only get together when the prince wants to bed his princess.
I don’t dare to tell her where I’m really going…I can barely stand to think about it myself. Despite the airy gown and thin robe, I feel hot all over. Well, except my hands and feet—they feel like blocks of ice. I can’t believe I’m doing this—I really can’t.
However, once Tanzy waves me off and I get out into the stone corridor, I realize I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t know where Xaren’s rooms are—I don’t even know which part of the Citadel he stays in. The King and Queen have their quarters in the front of the huge, grand stone castle and Prince Dorian’s rooms are just a few doors down from mine—in the East Wing. But where is Prince Xaren?
I’m looking around, feeling a mixture of panic and confusion when a male servant glides up to me.
“The Queen sent me,” he says in a low voice. “I’m to take you to the Dark Prince. Follow me.”
There’s really nothing else I can do. I follow in his wake, my soft slippers making almost no noise at all. The servant is quiet too. He glides silently ahead of me and when a squadron of guards passes, marching in formation, he draws me into a side corridor until they pass.
The secrecy makes me wonder if what I’m doing is really so acceptable as the Queen tried to make me believe. Would it be a great scandal if the Court found out I was sleeping with the brother of my husband? Except, according to her, Xaren is my husband too. So then, why the secrecy?
I have no answers—only a stomach full of nervous butterflies fluttering ceaselessly. The sensation gets worse as the servant leads me all the way over to the West Wing—the farthest end of the Citadel. And then we come to the entrance to the West tower—the tallest and most remote spot in the entire castle.
“Through here,” the servant murmurs. I expect him to lead me up the spiraling stairs…instead, he points down…down into a pit of darkness.
“He…he stays in the dungeon?” I ask, my voice coming out in a dry croak.
“The Dark Prince makes his home in darkness—as befits his mood,” is the servant’s cryptic reply. “You must descend the stairs until you reach the wooden door bound in silver. Push it open and you will find his chambers.”
“But…but what if it’s locked?” I squeak, my voice going high with fright.
The servant shakes his head.
“He has no need to lock his door.”
