AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “I don’t understand,” I admit.
Caldoryn Valderath can be a skillful lover when he wishes it. When he doesn't, he can be a silent, unmoving statue.
Just like I was three years ago.
“You didn’t want that. So why did you do it?”
He shrugs, rising to his feet. “I don’t have an heir, so the ladies of my court have a right to attempt to provide me with one.”
He's really being used as breeding stock. I find the whole thing preposterous.
I wonder why he wanted me here. So that I’d feel sorry for him? To make me understand what drives him to take me? I do on both accounts. It is a shame that he’s used that way. I’m not fully sure what’s happening, but I can tell he has no choice in it. And yes, I can see why he’d take me like a savage in turn, if only to erase the memory of Lady Aeln and all those who came before, those that’ll follow her. He doesn’t want them, and for some reason, he wants me.
That changes nothing. I don’t hate Doryn because he fucks like a beast. To my shame, my body rather enjoys his dark, wild desires. I hate Caldoryn because he’s a monster.
I turn to Mir, desperate to leave. "You said something about clothes?"
Her wings flutter. "Indeed, you're to be dressed as befits your station, my lady." She sounds as eager for something to occupy herself with as I am.
Doryn lets me exit the pool this time. I breathe out in relief. I grab my clothes on my way out, relieved no one thought to take them from me.
"A tailor was sent and will measure you this afternoon, and you’ll have some things designed, but for now, we found the clothes of the last lady of leisure!"
"There was one before me?" I wonder if she still has her head attached to her shoulders.
Becoming the royal whore seems to be the king's punishment for the worst of crimes.
"Well, the old king had several ladies of leisure, not pleasure, in his days. I’d wager the position’s similar enough. His Grace hasn’t yet had a lover occupy these rooms. I daresay he's kept busy enough by the court ladies."
"I see," I remark, because I certainly saw that.
"All the ladies will be so envious,” she whispers eagerly. “King Caldoryn is quite the catch for anyone. He hasn't ever sent anyone to the timeless void, so no one’s too scared of him."
My throat clogs. "The timeless void," I repeat.
I heard the stories—of course I did—but I figured they were tales made to scare children.Be good, or the shade will swallow you up in eternal emptiness, deep inside a timeless void, where you'll only have your nightmares forcompany until the end of time.
"The space between the worlds?" she rephrases, brows furrowed. "You don’t talk of it in the south? That's where shade comes from, you know. The lack of light. The nothing between the worlds where there is life. It's endless, the shade, and therefore stronger than light.” Begrudgingly, she adds, “Although it can be tempered by it. Most worlds need both to thrive."
She leads me to a dressing room adjacent to the beautiful bedroom, larger than my parent's home, all rooms included. Each wall is covered by mirrors, and while there are no candles at all, it's illuminated with a light harsher than even day. At the center of the mostly empty space, there's a small, elegant stool covered in pink velvet she pats for me, before moving to one of the walls.
I can't see how she maneuvers it, but the mirror shifts to reveal a long wardrobe. Two pieces hang inside it, and there isn't much to either of them. One is a dress, if one can call a simple, straight design in a sheer, soft fabric meant to cling to every curve a dress. It's as translucent as Mir's own outfit, but it should reach my knees or with luck, my shins. The other one is made of leather, which I approve of usually, but it consists in two tiny panels of fabric tied together by strings.
"Can I wear the purple one?" I check, my throat clogging.
"Don't be silly, both go together," she explains. At least, I think she's explaining.
I let her bundle me in her sheer clingy contraption, and then, tie the leather around my breasts and hips. One would think more fabric would be a good thing, but for some reason, the result seems lewder with the leather than it was without.
I decide it doesn't matter. It's not like I have a shred of dignity left.
What I have, however, is a flask of poison in my vest. That's the next best thing.
21
CALDORYN
“We should have killed all of them publicly. Made them suffer. It would have been a show of strength.” The rail-thin silver-haired lady with sharp, black teeth snarls. “Or at the very least, the one who dared harm you.”
