Page 10 of Bride of the Black Dragon
I’m all alone except for Tanzy, who continues to be my only friend. I feel abandoned by everyone else. Even Xaren, who was kind enough to catch me when I fainted during the wedding and who defended me at the Banquet, has made himself scarce. He sits at the far end of the Royal table and barely looks at me now.
I’ve even been half hoping that my Mother-in-law might try to dictate my food choices again so he might get involved—and she is, but in the opposite direction. Now that the wedding is over and I’m supposed to be “eating for two” any day, she insists that I eat the richest dishes possible. Truly, I’m going to put on weight if she doesn’t stop. Maybe I should—if I get fatter it might buy me some time because they’ll think I’m pregnant.
But I’m not—and I have no hope of becoming so. Not while Prince Dorian is still shunning me.
It isn’t until about a week after the wedding that I gain any kind of clarity as to what’s going on…and it’s a complete accident.
I am down at the stable, having finished a ride on Maribella, my favorite mare. She’s calm and docile—perfect for a rider without much experience like me. Back home our horses were usually used for farm work and I didn’t get to ride very often. Here, there is an entire stable of horses for nothing but leisure riding. It’s nice.
Of course, I’m careful anytime I’m at the stables. I still remember Tanzy’s tale of the hapless milkmaid. But as she predicted, the stable boys are nothing but polite and respectful. I guess rank has its privileges.
I’ve just finished a ride and have turned Mirabella over to one of the grooms, when I hear voices coming from deep in the stables.
“Not here!” someone whispers. “What if they see?”
“Why should I care?” another voice replies. “Come on—take me!”
Confused and curious, I make my way down the row of stalls, making sure to give the great black stallion, Death, plenty of room since he’s known to bite. He belongs to the Dark Prince and, just as Tanzy told me, he won’t tolerate anyone else touching him. Even the grooms leave him alone—he’s that vicious.
The voices have given way to strange sounds—rustling and grunting and a rhythmic slapping. I can’t imagine what it might be, but all of it is coming from the next-to-last stall at the very end of the row.
I make my way there, my riding boots quiet on the packed dirt of the stable floor. The air is filled with the scent of fresh hay and horse dung—which I actually find comforting because it reminds me of the stables back home.
I finally reach the next to last stall and peer carefully around the corner. The rhythmic slapping and grunting is still going on. Who is it and what can they be doing in there?
I’m intending to be quiet but the sight I see makes me gasp.
Prince Dorian is down on all fours in the straw like a beast and his best friend Henri is hunched over his back. At first I don’t understand…but then I see that the Crown Prince’s silk breeches are down around his ankles and Henri’s shaft is punching in and out of him—in and out of his arse!
My gasp stops them in mid-stroke and they both look up, panic on their faces. When he sees me standing there, my husband’s eyes widen…then narrow.
“You sneaking little bitch!” he snarls. “How dare you spy on me?”
“I…I didn’t know it was you!” I gasp, backing away. I stumble over a pitchfork leaning against the stable wall and nearly fall over backwards. I can’t take my eyes off them. I don’t want to see what I have seen, but somehow I can’t stop looking.
“You’d better not say anything!” Henri exclaims, his voice high and angry. “You’ll be sorry if you do!”
I’m already sorry. I wish I hadn’t seen this—I didn’t even know that males could be together in this way. But it makes sense to me now, why Dorian doesn’t want me. He has Henri, who is obviously much more than a best friend.
My stumbling clumsiness almost makes me trip again as I turn and make a dash for the door at the far end of the stables. I feel sick to my stomach—not necessarily because of what I saw but because of what it means.
Prince Dorian is never going to want me. He has no interest in me or any other female. Which means I have no chance at all of getting pregnant—none.
Once again I wonder…what am I going to do?
7
ELAINA
The very next day I am called to the Queen’s private library. My stomach is a knot of nervous tension as I knock on the door and a servant admits me. She lets me into the library and then exits and closes the door behind her, leaving me alone with the Queen, which I think is an ominous sign. If even the servants can’t be trusted to hear whatever she’s going to say to me, it must mean trouble.
“Ah, there you are. Come here.” Queen Virelda is sitting in front of an enormous stone fireplace. The shelves around her are filled with books that look like they have never been read. I bet they’re just for show—to make her look smart. I love a good novel, myself, but I doubt this is the time to ask if I can borrow one.
I go over to her, feeling like a child about to be punished.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” I ask, keeping my tone humble and polite.
“It has come to my attention that you witnessed a, er, Royal indiscretion committed by the Crown Prince,” she says, choosing her words carefully.
