Better their blood—and his—than Jalisa’s.
On the red sands Aruk finally kneeled, and let the soldiers put chains upon him, then let them beat him to the ground with clubs and boots. Into the dark hold of the king’s ship he was tossed, in fetters, imprisoned.
But Jalisa loved him. So not once in the long, painful days that followed did Aruk’s grin fade from his bloodied lips.
8
Jalisa the Bride
Savadon
Such a pretty bride she was.
With dull eyes, Jalisa stared at herself in the polished silver mirror as the maid secured her tiara atop sleek, shining tresses. Her golden tan had not faded, but was hidden beneath a pale powder. Aruk’s kisses no longer swelled her lips. As if the island had never been.
But it had been. And Aruk loved her. So she would not despair.
Even though tonight, she would marry another.
No notice had she been given of the wedding except for her maids scurrying in to make her ready. So it seemed that, in spite of watching her be ravished by a barbarian, Prince Wanieer must have agreed to marry her. Because she was not what Wanieer wanted, anyway. Her kingdom was.
And her father only cared that she was bred. No doubt he believed that Aruk had already taken care of that part. So proud he’d seemed of her for catching Aruk’s eye and—for all that her father knew—for being abducted and raped. As if Jalisa had deliberately set herself up as bait to catch her father a warrior from the Dead Lands and impregnated with his powerful seed.
But the child needed to be legitimate, so Jalisa must be wed. And in Savadon, after every royal wedding came the royal bedding—a ceremony witnessed by officials who confirmed consummation had been completed.
Consummation with the odious Wanieer.
Jalisa closed her eyes. She would not cast spells in rage and fear. She would not.
But she might vomit on him. Not such a pretty bride would she be then.
And if not vomit, something else. Jalisa would think of a way to stop this wedding—and attempt an escape that would take her down to the dungeon and free Aruk.
The sacrifice he’d made would not be in vain. Because although he’d told her not to look back at what happened on the beach…she had looked. She had seen. A great fighter he was. Yet still he’d been brought to his knees. Beaten.
Her heart had been screaming ever since. Screaming for her to fight, to run. All that kept her compliant was the terror of what her father might do to Aruk if she rebelled against him.
The time came to be escorted to the ceremonial chambers—and never had she wished for her father’s company, but now she did because her escort was Fin Ketles. His attentions toward her had never been subtle. Yet ever since he’d seen her on the beach with Aruk, it was as if he believed seeing her naked meant that she belonged to him now in some way. As if the brief ecstasy she’d found with the man she loved had been only a show put on to tease Fin Ketles.
That possessive gaze swept her the moment they stepped into the corridor. His eyes settled on her breasts. “How beautiful you are, princess.”
She ignored him and continued on, needing no escort to find the chambers. Never had the ceremonial chambers been used in her lifetime, but it was one of her favorite rooms within the palace. There was the altar room where a ribbon would be tied around her hand, binding her to Wanieer. There was the large, open bedchamber with discreet nooks for the observers to sit in. None of those did she ever spend time in. Instead she always opened the doors to the enormous balcony. The palace had been built on a cliff overlooking Savadon’s busy bay, and on that balcony she could see so far north over the Illwind Sea, and so far south through the rolling hills. Her view west was obstructed by mountains, yet they were also so beautiful—and when the sun set, the snowy peaks were painted in such incredible hues of rose and gold.
Fin Ketles’ voice demanded her attention again. “I will be one of the observers tonight,” he said gleefully. “So this will be the second time I see you fucked.”
Jaw set, Jalisa heard nothing. He was nothing.
“Or perhaps I won’t,” the advisor smirked. “I do not know that your groom will be able to complete this consummation. No woman—or man—has yet been able to get a rise from him. So perhaps your father will have me take his place.”
No rise from Prince Wanieer? Perhaps that was yet another reason why her father had been so unbothered by what Aruk claimed to have done to her. The prince couldn’t have bred her, anyway.
And despite the advisor’s hope, she had no fear that her father would let Fin Ketles touch her. For the king had but one purpose: to get strong sorcerers from her. As horrible as that purpose was, at least it protected her from his advisor, who had no magic at all.