Page 16 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“Women, huh?” the guard on my left says.

I recognize him as the sweet, idiot kid I’ve played cards with a few times before, when I’ve been wasting time at the barracks or trolling for information. He pulls a flask from his cloak and takes a swig, then offers it to me.

“Congratulations,” he says as he holds the flask out toward me.

Whatever’s in there, it smells strong. I shouldn’t drink it.

But I do.

Chapter 11

Lilias

FOR THE PAIN

Anura peels me out of my dress and helps me wash my face in silence. Her eyes are red and puffy from crying, which feels wrong to me. I’m the one who just married the damn snake of Vsenrog. Shouldn’t I be the one crying?

But, aside from my outburst in the carriage after the wedding, I’ve held it together. And as I bit the cake on the end of the sword that was trembling in my new husband’s hand, I felt like I’d won something.

But that victory feels hollow now that I’m in a room with a massive bed and Anura is holding something out to me that looks more like a few scraps of silk and thread than clothing.

“What is that?” I whisper, staring in horror at what she’s offering me.

Anura shakes her head like she’s apologizing for something.

“Sometimes they need a little help,” she whispers back. “You know. To make the marriage official.”

I swallow hard. Something about the look on my husband’s face when I bit the cake off the end of the sword makes me think he won’t need any help. But that thought just makes me feel cold.

I know what’s coming. I’ve done this with Blayne; I should be ready for the kissing, for lying down and spreading my legs, even for the strange mixture of heat and pain, the pleasure and pressure that happens when men and women make love. I thought my practice with Blayne would leave me feeling prepared, ready for whatever was going to happen on my wedding night.

I do not feel prepared.

The kissing and teasing I did with Blayne feels like it happened in another lifetime, to another woman. I can’t imagine teasing the snake like that. Not while he watches me with those hard, dark eyes.

Anura asks me to turn, and she begins to tie the scraps of cloth around my chest. It’s a deep, crimson V, the color echoing my wedding dress, with just enough fabric to cover my nipples and the thick curls around my sex. My hands are shaking by the time she’s done. I look at myself in the massive mirror hanging on the wall and feel like a horse about to bolt.

“I can’t wear this,” I whisper to Anura.

She brings me a long white robe, wraps it around my shoulders, and presses a glass of wine into my hand.

“Drink it,” she says.

I take a sip. It’s probably good wine; I can’t tell. I’ve never been a big wine drinker.

“All of it,” Anura says, frowning at the glass.

I choke it down. Anura pulls a tiny bottle from a pocket in her dress, then offers it to me. She looks like she’s going to cry again.

“What is this?” I whisper. “Poison? Should I kill my new husband already?”

She gives me a very weak smile. “It’s for you,” she says. “It will help with the pain.”

Gods. I shiver under my robe. This big room is too damn cold. At least I’ll be able to sleep in a bed again, once all this is over.

I force the wine down, hand Anura the glass, and take the tiny bottle from her hand. The cork makes a little popping sound when I pull it out. For the pain, I think as I bring the bottle to my lips.

The liquid inside is thick and bitter, and I almost gag on it. When I hand the bottle back to Anura, the room pulses softly around the edges of my vision. And by the time she leads me to the foot of the massive, curtained bed, I can’t feel my legs.