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“Your only job for the next hour is to satisfy your king,” he said, pushing me towards his chambers.
I turned, walking slowly to my own living hell. I shuddered as his footsteps followed behind me. I could feel his eyes undressing me with each passing second. I pushed open his door, standing aside until he entered.
I rushed back to Gaelin’s room to bathe and change, trembling. Tears no longer came. It was almost as if I had run out of them completely. The alfar looked at me with curiosity as I pushed through them down the hall. I flung the door open, slamming it behind me with more force than I ever had. I stripped my soiled clothes off my body. Blood stained my dress. I filled the bath and submerged myself, demanding the filth of him to burn off me.
I yelled as I scrubbed. I scrubbed, and scrubbed, and scrubbed some more. Then I just sat in the tub, my knees pulled to my chest as I raged. I had to find a way to be rid of him. I had no expectation of surviving this life. I knew what my fate held. I was going to die in this place, used and beaten. If I was going to die, then I would at least rid the world of King Lysanthier on my way out.
I thought back to my vision. Otar. I controlled him. He had to do whatever I told him. Was he, my key? Could I raise him from the dead and command him to kill King Lysanthier? I knew that the apophyllite dagger would possibly kill him. I knew iron restrained him. This could work. I could do it. I could raise Otar and control him to do my bidding. If I was wrong, and he came back without a leash, he would kill me. Somehow, that gave me a haunting sense of comfort.
I got out of the tub, wrapping the towel around my body. I had to find out where they were keeping Otar’s body. I had to get to him. Tonight. Tonight, after the king had me, again, I would find Otar and raise him to kill the bastard. I opened the door to the bathroom to find Gaelin sitting on the edge of the bed, holding my soiled dress. I stopped, not knowing what to say or do. He hung his head, gripping the dress so hard his knuckles were white.
“The elixir didn’t work?” He asked in a low voice.
I stepped forward, going to the armoire to get a clean dress. “It protected me last night. Just not this afternoon,” I said hesitantly.
He threw the dress, standing up from the bed in anger. I dressed and composed myself before speaking to him again. I had to be strong. I had to put a mask on and act like I wasn’t affected by what had just happened thirty minutes prior. I had to use Gaelin to find where Otar’s body was being held. He sat on the couch, looking at the bookshelf in front of him blankly. I took a seat next to him, not knowing if he wanted my touch.
“Do you need anything from me?” he asked coldly.
“Only for you to be here with me now,” I said softly.
He nodded, not looking at me. I reached for him, but he moved his hand before I could make contact. He had never shunned away from my touch before. I felt a sting of pain dart through my heart. I was losing him, and I didn’t know how to fix it.
I held my head in shame. “Do you not want me, because he’s had me?”
His head snapped to me. His eyes were full of hate and pain. He studied me for a moment. I tried to control my face and appear whole, but I knew he could see through my mask. “I want to save you from him. I hate what he does to you, but that doesn’t reflect poorly on you.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
“What for?”
“All of this,” I said, feeling guilty. For what? I had no clue.
“How is any of this your fault? You didn’t ask for this. This is his fault. This is my fault. This is everyone’s fault except yours,” he said, raising his voice. His sorrow and pain, now turning to rage.
I stopped, remembering what he had to endure only a few hours ago. He was forced to perform with another against his will. He calmed himself, bringing his hands to his lap.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Yes, let’s share stories about our forced sexual encounters. That’s exactly what I want to do. Talk about how I fucked another alfar with the female I love.”
I hung my head, not knowing how to deal with him. I had never experienced this side of Gaelin before. I nervously fumbled with my hands, trying to think of something.
He exhaled, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, you don’t deserve to be talked to that way. I’m just…wounded is all.”
“It’s okay. You have every right to be angry about all of this.”
“Yes, but not at you.” He took my hand, finally turning to look at me. “Did he hurt you badly?”
“Not the worst he’s done. Most of the bruises are gone already. Just a little sore,” I said, trying to sound somewhat reassuring. “How are you after last night?”
“She insisted we do it more than once. I couldn’t even…I couldn’t at first. I’m ashamed to admit I had to think of you to even perform with her. Hopefully, she’s pregnant and that will be the last time I have to do that,” he said.
“If the thought of me brings you any comfort, don’t feel ashamed about it.” A few moments passed as we sat, holding each other’s hand in silence. “How is the situation with the rift going?” I asked, trying to move the conversation to where I needed it to go.
“Reports of the rift opening around the kingdom are still coming in. We’ve caught a few of the beasts this past week, but it’s hard to keep up with their numbers. The council is considering calling in the dark court again to help get a handle on things. Our pride has prevented the call for help thus far, but we're running out of options.”
“This doesn’t reflect poorly on you. Once you have a little help cleaning up the masses, it will allow you to prepare and anticipate where the rift will open next so you can get on top of it,” I said, running my fingers through his hair.