AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Not once does Isla wave. Pain assaults me at the thought of what will come later, what I must do when she rises higher, when she raises her magnified chin, accepting the role of Queen of the Underworld?a role she was prepared for once she accepted Kryach’s shadow mark.
I escort her to the balcony where all those in the boats and ships along the River Cryth and the Isle of Bones beyond the waterfall-bridges may glimpse their new Bride of the Corpse King. Thousands of lanterns release. Cheers explode to shake the Five White Ladies themselves. The lanterns drift into the air, turning to a host of stars amidst the domed ceiling leagues above us.
I monitor Isla’s reaction. How she parts her lips, touches her hand to her heart, undone by the laudation. But why? She is the one who has saved us all.
In my pain, in my misery, I’d gone so far as to challenge the gods themselves. Isla...she is my saving grace!
All too soon, we will sup with the royals. Then retire to our bedroom. And while many will expect us to consummate, where Isla may tempt me, I will never fall prey to such temptation.
Or Kryach will win.
And all will be lost.
* * *
“Will you tell me more about the rolling chair?” Isla requests of the Blue-Skin monarch, curious about the other races as usual.
Perhaps she has tiptoed around the invasive question, but tonight, my bride’s exuberance cannot be contained. Full of pomegranate wine and sweets from the bridal feast and wearing a Queen’s crown.
The Blue-Skin-they chuckles and gestures to their faulty legs concealed beneath their royal blue robes which nearly match their skin. “If you spent most of your life beneath the seas, you would find land-life most difficult to navigate.”
She smiles. Fond and musing. Her sultry lashes tempt all the royals. The Sythe Queen most. Isla reserved a precious, few minutes for her family. For kissing them and hugging them before joining me at the royal table where she has thrust the most of her attention. Still, she undoes me, sweeping me into her passion.
This will be more difficult than anything I’ve conceived.
Her questions, like her appetite, are endless. Amused, the royals answer when she asks while she feasts on wild boar, honeyed pomegranates, haggys, raspberries and cream porridge, on pudding dumplings, and more. Her appetite unbridled as her curiosity.
Finally, in the wee morning hours, after Aydon has carried his worn bride to bed, I alert Isla how it’s time to retire to our bridal chambers.
When she widens her eyes?her expression like spirits who cannot thwart Death, though her smirk contrasts her radiant eagerness?I know I will regret this. I will lament this. And later, I will magnify her and idolize her. I will enact such penance, she will forgive me.
Months later. Desire later. Everything...later.
Breath heavier than an hourglass,heart throbbing enough to bruise my ribcage, skin tingling until corpus roses and thorns bud along my arms, I clench my clammy hands and strengthen my knees as Allysteir leads me to his chambers. The Corpse King’s chambers.
Along the way, the elaborate skeletal sculptures and tapestries distract me from the blood thrashing in my ears. I remember the first time he’d carried me to my chambers with the aid of his shadows. How he’d commanded me to calm and vowed he would not do anything then but made no guarantees regarding our wedding...night.
I try to steady my quaking breath, peer at the vacant mask out of the corner of my eye. Blush and turn when he inclines his head to mine. His ascot veils any gestures. No guidance. I blink and close my eyes, reminding myself he’s a Feyal-Ithydeir who must honor my flesh. During our time together, he has revered it, respected me. Yes, I trust Allysteir. But not the God within him.
As if registering my emotions, my thoughts, the shadow-mark pulsates, the skull eyes erupting with blood fire as if warning.Tread carefully, little wonder...I imagine Kryach purring to me. I lick my lips, swallow. Surely he won’t?not so soon. My vision swirls, legs weakening.
After we’ve ascended the tallest Citadel tower with my immense train glittering down the staircase like angyl’s spun glass, we arrive before a great arched door of fused skulls. I shiver. They remind me of the Skull Ruins. I remember when I removed Allysteir’s mask and stared at his contrast of a face with one side as soft, sculpted, and fair as an angyl seryph despite the threadwork of black veins upon his high cheekbones and the deep violet shadow beneath his eye.
But the other side was all the stuff of legend, of our songs, and little girls’ nightmares. As if the Nether-Void scrawled itself on Allysteir with ruinous flesh, one ghostly eye, missing lip, and exposed jagged teeth. Macabre but beautiful in its contrast.
Will he show it to me tonight?
I wince when Allysteir forms a key of his shadows to unlock the skull door which parts. At first, he turns to me. As I open my mouth, the King places his hand upon my waist and sweeps me into his arms. I shudder and steady the crown on my head as he carries me inside, his muscles tight. When I slide my arms around his shoulders and neck, the tension beneath his tunic and ascot prompts his veins to pulsate through his flesh. His mask eyes do not retreat from my face.
My flowers follow us inside the chamber. I gush at the grandiose room with its ornate fireplace spanning one whole wall, the arched stained-glass windows overlooking the Sea of Bones, and the tapestry portrait of colorful bones and teeth. I don’t reflect long when Allysteir lowers me to the floor an inch from the bed. As he does, those muscles tighten as if he’s bracing himself.
Before I may open my mouth, the King cocks his head to me. Hands encircling my waist, he leans in?black hollow mask eyes marking mine?and commands in a deep, dark voice, “Strip.”
I furrow my brows, but he turns his back following his order. Angry heat flushes my whole body. More when he tugs at my wrist, jerking me by the cord binding us. Glowering, I don’t budge, but thankfully the rope is long enough for him to approach the corner table where he uncorks the wine flask. So, this is how he wants to play it, how he baits me. He desires my challenge, my fight to ruin tonight. For what reason, I can’t comprehend.
I won’t give him what he wants. Not when I have my own bait.
Still, my fingers tremble when I lower the off-the-shoulder sleeves, slide the gown down my body until it spills to the floor, weeping a golden river. While he pours two goblets of wine, back to me, I quickly release the crown of my hair so the corpus roses tumble off my body. Allysteir turns to face me the moment I shake out my curled waves.
