Page 56 of Prize for the King
I scoff, feeling as gloomy as the gray, heavy sky above us. “I did nothing to earn good things.”
Magnar chuckles, pressing me closer. “You let your cocky husband make you come. I’m very proud of myself, and my good mood benefits everyone. I’ll let my soldiers sleep in tomorrow as a result, and you, too. You need to rest.”
The next few days pass in a blur. I’m withdrawn, too focused on avoiding the predatory thoughts in my head. Khay sleeps on the floorand doesn’t touch me. I do my best to avoid his mournful, longing gaze when we’re alone in the room. He never presses me with words, he only looks, and even that is too much.
I feel guilty, guilty,guilty.
Raduna is now my constant companion in the saddle. He gets hard sometimes, which I ignore. Time and again, Magnar and his knights try to draw me into conversations during the meals, but I barely hear them, preoccupied with the strange landscape within me.
Things aren’t as before. I can’t pretend anymore, lying that it’s not so bad, I can’t be cheerful and good-humored. Reality swallows me, its teeth sharper than Magnar’s.
I’m not sure what broke me. Was it the pleasure wrought by his fingers? Or maybe it’s because I asked for my father’s body to be desecrated? Or is it because I’m so far away from home, away from the polite society of the Eleven, traveling into the unknown?
No matter the reason, the change in me is staggering. It feels like there used to be a curtain hiding all the desolation and destruction within. It’s gone now. I’m exposed to the horrible reality of me.
Princess Caliane is unworthy of being here in this world and wasting the air better people could breathe. All that’s good about her is the façade, the role she plays to keep the dark at bay.
And now, I can’t even pretend anymore.
When I can’t keep the sharp thoughts hidden, they descend. I have screaming matches with my father in my head, and then I dream of being suffocated by his ermine cloak while he gropes me, laughing and laughing like a madman. I wake up gasping to see Khay kneeling on the floor as he begs me to be let in my bed so he can comfort me.
But I don’t deserve comfort.
Then I imagine the blissful horror of being filled by four Agnidari, knight after knight taking me, spreading my body open while Magnar watches until he’s ready to have me again. These visions turninto dreams, hot and restless, after which I feel blurry and irritable, dirty and unfulfilled.
Slut, I think. It’s a word my father called me once when I had enough gumption to push him away. I found it in the least prudish dictionary in the royal library and mused about it for a long time, feeling confused by him calling me that when I resisted.
Wasn’t I more of a slut when I allowed his touch?
I am a slut now, without a doubt. Iwantit, and not just from my husband. My body is heavy with fear and arousal, growing more unbearable the closer we are to Magnar’s keep. And yet, I know I can’t have it, can’t want it, can’t love it. Wouldn’t it be dishonest to let them enjoy me without knowing how filthy and worthless I am?
I’m irreparable. Broken.
No, it would be deceitful to let them please me when I’m not what they expect. I’ll have Magnar, because we must consummate. And then… Then I’ll disappear. No one has any use for me, anyway. Let Magnar reign, making his subjects happy all over the kingdoms. Let him secure beneficial treaties at the Table of Kings. He will be splendid, I know.
I wish I could see it.
We enter Roharra on the eighth day of our journey. The rains have stopped, but the merciless heat from before hasn’t returned. The days are partly sunny, sometimes overcast, and a pleasant breeze cools my face as we ride.
Fields of goldenrod line the wide cobbled road we follow through the country. I see lines of curious little structures Raduna explains are beehives.
“We’re the biggest provider of honey in the Eleven. It was one of late king Hrognar’s initiatives. He found out which products were lacking in the kingdoms but could be easily made here. Honey was one. It helped him negotiate better tariffs for some products, thoughit wasn’t enough, of course.”
It’s late afternoon, the air golden as the sun lowers behind the fields of yellow flowers buzzing with bees. I sigh and look up into the blue sky, feeling like myself for the first time in days. Raduna hums with pleasure, looking down into my upturned face.
“I’m so happy to see you smiling again, my queen.”
“Thank you. I suppose I was the worst kind of company, miserable and dreary. I apologize,” I say with a sigh.
“Never apologize to me for feeling sad,” Raduna says with reproach. “Besides, I love my queen at all times, whether she’s smiling or sad, cheerful or angry. It was an honor to accompany you in your time of sadness.”
My body grows rigid at his words, and I refuse to believe them.I love my queen.But that cannot be right. Most likely, it’s just a turn of phrase to express the knights’ loyalty to their rulers. And he hasn’t said he lovesme, just the title.
“Thank you,” I say when I regain control over my voice.
Not soon after, we stop in a cheerful little town surrounded by verdant fruit orchards. Like in the village in Serilla before, a feast is laid out for us in the main square, long tables covered with the whitest cloths and decorated with fresh flowers. Magnar receives many salutes and curtsies, and I can’t help but stare at the multitude of Agnidari women bustling around.
They are so beautiful, tall and strong, dressed in colorful skirts I’ve never seen the like of back home. Farneer’s peasants wear undyed linen or wool, but these women are as bright as butterflies, red, green, and violet. Their skirts are lighter than mine, simpler, with no petticoats underneath. They also wear tight, pretty blouses, embroidered and handsomely trimmed around the bosoms.
