AllFreeNovel
Share Us
One woman steps into the flow of our group and moves with us for a few moments, speaking earnestly to me. “We heard the King had brought in bride candidates. Didn’t know there were so many, or that he would treat you like this.” She glances at the bruises and blood mottling my skin. “My brother runs an inn at the edge of the city—you’ll pass right by it if you keep heading south. You’re welcome to stop there for rest and clothing before you leave. He can’t take in everyone, but I’ll spread the word to others in that area. We’ll make sure you have clothing and shelter for the night.”
“Thank you.” I nod gratefully as she merges with the onlookers again.
Several minutes later, more of the King’s guards show up. They don’t stop our march, but they lurk along the edges of the street, shoving onlookers back and shouting for people to go back to their business.
I can sense uncertainty and fear rippling through the other concubines.
“Stay together, friends,” I call. “Heads high, arms linked!”
The guards’ presence is a sign that the King knows what’s happening. He has a choice to make now—he can arrest or slaughter us all, or he can let us continue shaming him, parading the bodies he was supposed to own through the streets.
I can see it now—all of us memorialized in history—the Slaughter of the Concubines. That would be his legacy forever—he’d never shake off the shadow of it. I’m betting everything on the fact that he won’t want a massacre of the kingdom’s gifted women on his record.
I’m taking another risk, too. The King might hurt Rupert more terribly because of what I’m doing—as some kind of punishment or vengeance. But he needs Rupert, his new Half-Elf toy, his gold mine. I’m betting on the King’s greed to conquer his need for petty revenge—a revenge I won’t even see.
It’s a risk more vital and meaningful than any gamble my brother ever made.
Giltos is a huge, sprawling city, and we’re all barefoot, so our progress slows as feet become weary and bruised. But after what feels like an interminable trek between frenzied crowds of shouting citizens, I lift my gaze and see that at last, by the goddess’s grace, we’re nearing the edge of the city.
My responsibility to this group doesn’t end when the march does. A businesswoman is responsible for her employees, and a revolutionary is responsible for those who follow her, no matter how impulsively her revolution began.
I crane over my shoulder to speak to Shenya. “Pass the word along to the others. When we reach the wall, everyone should scatter into the streets. Stay in small groups and avoid the soldiers. There will be people ready to give you clothing and food. The faster you disappear, the better. The citizens will shelter us tonight, but after that, seek shelter with friends or relatives. Don’t return home, or the King’s guards will find you.”
“My family has influence,” Nerith adds. “I haven’t been allowed to contact them since I reached the House of Bounty, but I’ll send them a message so they’re informed about all of this. My father may not care, but my mother will be furious when she discovers how we’ve been treated. She’ll make sure my father talks to the other nobles and holds the King accountable.”
I nod to her and face forward, striding ahead with renewed energy.
The King is a master of concealing truth, spreading misinformation, confusing the true story. It’s the only conceivable way he’s been able to keep the rest of the kingdom so oblivious to his true nature. Our communication network in Darthage is notoriously underfunded and unreliable, and it functions primarily under royal control. Steal the truth from people, corrupt their sources of news, and you rob them of their ability to make wise, well-informed choices.
But that doesn’t matter now. The King’s conscription of potential brides backfired on him—created a swarm of witnesses to his cruelty from nearly every city and village in the entire kingdom. He can’t get away with it. Not this time.
20
Pain.
Everything is pain. I’m not even sure where it begins or ends. I can’t identify the parts of my body that hurt, because everything hurts.
When I told my name to the King, I felt the bond between us slam into place, a horrific weight on my shoulders, a vise clamping around my very soul.
He commanded me to kiss him, and I did.
He ordered me to unfasten his pants and take out his cock. I did.
His next order would have been worse. But a wave of nausea shuddered through me and I vomited, all over his exposed dick, his pants, and his fine shoes.
“It’s the loss of my energy,” I rasped. “I’m weak. I need rest.”
I couldn’t sit up any longer—I collapsed just as he began to kick me with his vomit-covered boots. I think he believed me though, because after thrashing me soundly, he called servants and ordered them to take me away, clean me up, and put me to bed.
He won’t risk molesting me until I’m recovered. At least, I hope not.
If he does, I’ll endure it, just as Juliette would have endured his invasion of her body. I hope I can be as brave as she would have been.
Barely conscious, I lie under clean sheets in a dark, silent room, unable to move without agony. Breathing hurts. Thinking hurts. My very existence is pain.
I wish I could heal faster. I wish I had deeper reserves of magic instead of this shallow pool.
An Elder once told me that the Elves have a sister race among the realms—a race called the Fae. They occupy a lush, beautiful realm called Faerie—a place of exquisite loveliness and terrifying monsters. They live longer than we do and have more powerful, versatile magic. Some of them have wings, horns, or other animal parts. As a child, I used to wish I could be one of them—more powerful than anyone in this world, Elf or human.
