Chapter 10

Page Ten.

My dragon is upset with me. She can join the moon and sun. They both believe I'm making a mistake following my father's orders…am I? To anyone reading this, if you had to choose between your family and your heart, who would you choose?

After the shock wears off, the woman is still barking at me to hurry up and get showered. I quickly shower before throwing clothes on, my wet hair dripping down my back. The tight black clothes seem to stick to every inch of my body, but they match everyone in this dynasty. The second I'm done, she is ushering me down the corridor, and I stay well behind her. My dripping wet hair must have annoyed her, and she swiftly turns, handing me a small band. "Tie your hair back. It's no good sticking to your neck and getting in your face during training."

"Wait, training?" I ask, but she doesn't answer me or even seem to hear me. Training? Why would Ziven want me to be trained to defend myself? It doesn't make any sense. Tying my hair back, I follow the woman out the doors. I wish I knew her name, but I doubt she will happily give me it. We go up the dragon stairs, round and round, and it's pretty empty. The sun is still hiding, and I wonder what time it is.

When we get to the training place, it's pretty empty too except for people from the Moon Dynasty, a black wave of them on the mats, already training hard. All of them seem to be here, or at least I count a good fifteen. Ziven is waiting in the middle of the room, his thick arms holding a sword that looks bigger than me. There is a man at his side, and I've seen him before around Ziven outside the Decidere. He has long dark hair that is perfectly straight and falls to his slender shoulders. He smiles at me. Which is more of a smile than I've got off anyone out of this dynasty before. The woman bows low when we stop in front of Ziven and the man. "Thank you, Sterling."

"My king, you can ask anything of me," she all but purrs, lifting her head. I raise an eyebrow at her tone, and she glares at me before walking away. Ziven stares at me and I stare right back at his stupidly handsome face. Why is he pretty and yet he has a heart of stone? The deities didn't do anyone fair when they made him.

The man at his side looks between us, rubbing the back of his neck. Ziven hands him the sword. "I'll, er…go."

The second the man is gone, I narrow my eyes at Ziven. "Training?"

He watches me for a moment. "You train or you don't eat. Nothing is for free in this world. If you don't know that by now, then you're pretty useless."

I clear my throat. Training with him? That sounds like a perfectly good way to accidentally get killed by one of his thick arms or giant feet. "Daegan said it wasn't a good idea if I trained because everyone here has trained since they were kids and that I would be…"

He laughs so loud it interrupts me. "Of course he would say that. Do you want to be a pretty princess that dies because she's got no idea how to look after herself? Or you can train with me."

I would almost suspect he is trying to make me stronger, but that makes no sense. "Why do you want to train me?"

"Because I said so. I don't need to give you a reason." He nods to the track just as two fae run past so fast I barely spot them. My knees already feel weak. "Seeing as you're here, and not running away again, I assume you don't want to follow perfect Daegan's polished advice."

I narrow my eyes on him. "That's not fair. Daegan is my friend, and he is protecting me."

He smirks. "Sure. Believe that. We'll start with running." He takes several backward steps towards the track. "Come on, Storm, or are you too scared to train with me?"

Straightening my shoulders, I walk to his side. He isn't showing me up. Part of me wants to train and learn how to protect myself… I've never been given that chance before. I might be terrified of Ziven using this as an excuse to make sure I end up dead, but so far, he seems to be hell-bent on the law that forces me to be in his dynasty for half the week. Even if it's pretty terrifying to train with people that have been trained since they were kids and I've never had a chance. "I warn you, I'm pretty clumsy."

"Then fall. No one's going to pick you up," he coolly responds. "Come." He starts running off. A slow jog, even by his standards. I quickly run to try to catch up with him. Within five minutes, sweat is pouring down the back of my neck. Within ten minutes, he picks up speed, and I'm breathing heavily, barely surviving as pain stabs at my stomach, my body threatening to give up even if my mind is not having that. We haven't even run twice around the entire track, and I'm struggling. He looks over his shoulder at me, shaking his head once in disappointment, but he doesn't slow down. When we get to the end of the track, I barely manage to stand up, panting and trying to make sure I'm not sick. I'm very glad I didn't eat breakfast before coming here. Ziven stands in front of me. I stare at his dragons almost dancing around his thick forearms. "Get on the mat."

"What?" I heave.

Ziven glowers. "That was a warm-up. Get your pretty ass on the mat, Storm."

Several people are watching, several of them smiling, and some of them are not. Those ones look like they would prefer it if I wasn't here. That makes two of us. I wince at my sore body as I follow Ziven onto the nearby mat. He peels off his top and I gape. Shiny, thick muscles cover his chest, rippling down into his trousers. There is a fine amount of hair on his chest, dipping to the thick V shape of his stomach. There are so many dragon markings that begin at his hands all the way up to his muscles, and I quickly lose count after ten. He must have done the Decidere a lot…maybe he is the one who did it fourteen times? There is a scar, almost like scales, across his left shoulder, and I pull my eyes away even as my cheeks burn up and my body feels like it's on fire. "Eyes up, Storm. How have you trained before? What self-defence moves do you know?"

He thinks I know how to fight. "I don't know what part of slave you didn't understand, king." I'm unable to hold the sarcasm back. "But the vampyres don't train slaves to defend themselves. We aren't allowed to even touch a weapon. To defend yourself is just asking to be painfully killed. I didn't get to defend myself from shit, and I don't know how."

He cocks his head to the side. "Fae are good at playing the sheep when they can be the wolf." Am I the sheep and he the wolf? He moves into a defence position. "Stand like I do."

I know there is no point telling him no. I mimic his stance, or I try to. He shakes his head, coming to me. Ziven pats my leg to the left, and he pushes up my spine to straighten me, but I can't think of anything but how my skin burns where he touched me. "When someone comes at you, you move. You're fast."

"No fae is as fast as vampyres, so what is the point?"

Ziven searches my eyes, and whatever he sees only makes him mad. "I don't want to talk about the vampyres' bullshit. I'm not training a vampyre, am I?" He shakes his head, looking forward. He moves to stand in front of me. "Most people, when they attack you, they go for delicate places." He touches my throat with his finger, and my heart leaps. "I usually go for here, but you?" He touches my stomach, and the throbbing of my blood only gets worse. "Here would be better, as you are likely shorter than your enemy." Yes, my enemy is currently towering over me. "These places, if you hit there, you'll knock them down. But it also means if you are hit there, you are going down unless you know how to block."

I nod, my mouth dry. I'm thankful when he finally steps away from me. "Hit me. We both know you want to."

A bubble of laughter nearly falls out of my lips. Did he just make a joke? "I-I can't."

"Yes, you can," he answers, somewhat patiently. "Go for my stomach. Like I just told you. Knees if you're feeling brave. Hit me. We certainly know you are aware of how to hit me in the balls. Don't do that again though."

That is a fond memory of mine. Knowing what an asshole he is, I wish I kicked harder. Ziven smirks. "Unless you're hiding the fact that you're extremely well trained and you know exactly how to take me down. Like a spy would do."

I glare at him. He's really not dropping this idea that I'm a spy sent here to kill him. He must be completely delusional. I step up to him, feeling nervous, and go to punch him straight in the stomach. He grabs my hand, twists my arm, and I go flying, flying straight onto my back. I wince as the air is completely taken out of my lungs and pain lances down my spine. Ziven stands over me, and he doesn't offer me a hand to help me up. "Again, and faster this time. Anyone could have stopped you. You are fae, do not hold back."

He makes being fae sound like it's a good, powerful thing. Not a weak, terrible way to be born, like the vampyres teach.

My eyes widen. "You've got to be joking. That hurt."

"And you can have a healing bath afterwards," he snarls. "I'm not Daegan and I'm not treating you like a fucking baby. Get up, do it again. You are in my dynasty, and so far, you are making me look bad. Get up, learn, or tell me the truth about who you are."

I have told him the truth—well, most of it. I'm not a spy and maybe he might believe me when this day is over and I'm still shit at fighting. I get up and attack him, again and again and again. He knocks me over countless times. I lose track of how many times he has me on my back until he finally seems to give up and everything in me hurts. "Training's over. Come for breakfast."

I watch him walk out of the room, away from the mat where I'm still lying on the floor. A hand is shoved into the air above me, and I take it, needing some help to stand. It's the man from earlier, and he offers me a towel. "I think you did really well today." I take the towel and wipe the sweat from my head. "Ziven is one of the best trainers, even if his methods are harsh. He trained with me as kids, and I never once beat him. I'm his second-in-command." He shows me where to put the towel, in a basket with piles of others. "It's good to meet you, Story. I'm Calix."

"Nice to meet you too, Calix." I wonder if this is the right hand man that Etena was talking about, her entwined. I vaguely remember his name mentioned. He's very good looking, slightly shorter than Ziven and Daegan, I'd bet, and he's thinner. Not less muscled, but slender.

He watches me, and I watch him right back as we leave the training room. Bursts of orange sunlight are shining through the trees, the beams flashing across the dragon's stone wings through the glass window. "Breakfast will make you feel better." I'm not sure anything is going to make my bones stop hurting unless it's one of those baths. He is trying to be nice, so I don't say that.

We wind our way down the steps, and it's not empty anymore. People stop and stare at me open-mouthed after jumping out of the way of Ziven. I try to ignore them, focusing on where I'm walking so I don't pass out on the floor. They lead me into a dining hall in the Moon Dynasty apartments, and only then does Calix leave my side. It's nothing like the Sun Dynasty dining hall. There's one long table, and it's far cozier in here. Plush silver rugs line the wooden floor, dark couches are pressed into the corner, and rows of bookcases filled with ornaments and a few books line the walls. There's a big roaring fireplace in the middle, and it feels more like a family dining room than a public place. Ziven's sitting at the top of the table when I get the guts to look for a seat. There is a seat empty next to Ruelle, and I walk over. "Am I alright to sit here?"

She pulls the back of the seat, and the chair slides out. "Sit down. Sit down." I take the seat, pulling the chair in and wincing. "I'm sure you've been beaten up enough this morning." Everything hurts in me as I sit down in the chair, and I don't know how my muscles are ever going to recover. No one waits before digging into the food, and I watch from the corner of my eye as Ziven makes sure Hettie has a plate full of food before he takes any for himself. The food is similar to Daegan's, and I take two eggs, a piece of toast and a slice of melon. I eat in silence, but everyone else talks openly, and laughter fills the air. The moment breakfast is over, Ziven stands, and they all look at him. I feel completely like an intruder. Even Hettie doesn't look at me. "Time to return to your room until lunch, Storm."

Great, he really plans to lock me away in there. I follow him out of the room. This time, he just opens the door to my room, lets me go in before he slams it shut behind me. So, this is how my day is going to be. Trapped inside this room. Not that being alone is something I'm not used to. There were days when I was alone in the castle, weeks even, when he was away with his family. Those were the only times I felt like living was worth it back then. I glance at the windows, the sun quickly rising over the treetops as a memory comes flashing into my mind. I'm forced back into the past like it's here permanently to haunt me, like something I can't escape even when I did.

"This dress looks beautiful on you." Prince Emyr strokes my bare back, over the hundreds of bite mark scars, some fresh and new, others now healed into silver scars. The bites are the one thing Kyrell can't heal. Something about the bite is permanent, and fae magic doesn't fully work on it. I used to care about my body, about my soul, and want to live, but that is gone. I feel empty, broken, and I don't care anymore. He runs his hands down my arms, down the millions of bruises. He doesn't bite my arms; he likes them smooth and scar free.

The shiny red dress is too tight, pushing my breasts up, and the lace is wrapped tightly around my ribs. The skirt flows down to the ground, and it's ridiculously expensive. I know a fae made it, likely poured their heart and soul into this dress, and I should appreciate it, but I can't when it's another dress to wear in a prison of gold. He likes to dress me in silks, especially when there are bite marks all over my stomach, from how he's spent the last three nights feasting on me like I was food after he came back from his trip. Three weeks…and for a moment, I felt safe. How delusional I was. He hasn't done anything more to me yet, not yet, but the way his hands roam freely across my body, I know it's not long. He'll want more soon, that much is obvious, and it will just be another part of me he takes. Like my blood, my freedom, and no doubt my life in the end.

I've asked Kyrell to kill me seven times, and he always says no. If it was because he didn't want to be killed for hurting me, I'd understand, but that isn't his reasoning. He fully believes I'm meant to live through this and there will be a different ending for me.

Prince Emyr clips a diamond necklace around my neck, the heavy jewels tugging at me. "What is tonight?"

He looks pleased and surprised. I don't speak to him unless I'm screaming for him to stop. "Tonight is a special party to celebrate my father gifting me Nightwell city. In a year, he will come to see my progress." He looks away. "But that is boring vampyre business. I told everyone at court about you, and my friends want to meet you tonight. Don't fear them, but they're not allowed to touch or taste you. You solely belong to me." He puts his hand on my back, a possessive gesture, and escorts me from the room. I can't move. I feel frozen in a nightmare as we walk down the corridors and I take everything in. I barely left his room or mine in months, other than to use the bathroom and clean up. To wash the blood off me, to let Kyrell heal me and give me more tea to keep me stabilised. God knows I can't keep the food down these days without throwing it up, and I'm thinner. Too thin, according to Kyrell.

Prince Emyr leads me straight down corridors into a massive ballroom that is busy, alive even if everyone here is cold-blooded. There are vampyres here, loads of them, and blood slaves line the walls in red dresses, waiting to be drunk from. I expect to go and stand with them, but instead the whole room stops, pauses as Prince Emyr leads me through the middle of the ballroom. They move out of the way, making a pathway to the other side, to a small red throne. They all bow, their eyes leeching over me like I'm their new dessert flavour, and I hate it. It feels like spiders crawling across my skin, wishing they could bite.

To my shock, Prince Emyr pulls me onto his lap, clicks his fingers, and they go back to talking in groups or dancing to the music played by the orchestra on the right. Their silk gowns, all reds and golds, flash in the low lights of the fires hanging from the chandeliers above. It's beautiful and horrible all at the same time. A couple come up, bowing low, their eyes dancing across me. "Congratulations on finding a new favourite. You had the same one since you were a child. I thought you'd never get bored with her."

"Well, she wasn't half as tasty as this one." He kisses my bare shoulder, and I gulp. "She was kept secret from all of us. She has delicious blood, and she is exquisite to look at. Born for a prince." They are both staring at me with hunger. "Look at her like that again and I will rip out your fangs." They both immediately drop their gaze. "She's mine. She will not be touched."

That statement doesn't need to be shared, they heard, and it's clear because, for the next hour, people come over, and he introduces me one after the other. They don't dare look at me too long. Eventually, he takes me to the dance floor and dances around with me. When he is bored with that, he bites my wrist once, showing everybody my blood like a trophy. They cheer for him, and I feel like I'm in a haze, like none of it's real, even though it is. I can't escape.

He wanders around with me before he leaves me sitting on the throne to go off with some of his male friends. I don't move for so long I wonder if I'm frozen, until I lick my dry lips. I need a drink. I spot a table of drinks nearby, and I barely get a few yards away before a man steps into my path. A vampyre, tall, dark hair and red fangs shining through as he speaks. "It's lovely to meet you, Story Dehana. You look very familiar. Have I seen you before?"

"No," I coldly answer. "I was just getting a drink?—"

"Please allow me. Let me get a drink with you, and we can?—"

I jump as Emyr's arm wraps tightly around my waist, his fingertips digging into my stomach where the bites are, and I wince as he makes them open for more blood to flow into the dress. I barely hold in my cry. "She can get a drink from her room. She is tired now."

"Of course, your highness." The vampyre bows his head, watching us as Prince Emyr escorts me out of the busy ballroom, down the corridors, back to my room. I barely step through the door before he grabs me around the throat and throws me in the air. I slam into the mirror on the wall, shards of glass raining down, cutting into my arm. I scream as I fall, crying as he walks over to me and kicks me hard in the stomach. Time stops as he hits me again and again, and I feel all my ribs crack before he grabs me by the chin, lifting me up into the air. "You don't talk to another male vampyre, stupid whore. You are mine to feed on, to fuck when you're a little older, and you will love me. Do you understand me?"

I sob, wheezing out every word. "Y-yes. I'm sorry."

"Good. Good. I will feel better when you turn nineteen and we can fully be together. You will want me more when pleasure is involved." He softly strokes my hair even as I cry. "You belong to me. Get cleaned up and wait for me in my room. It's about time I show you how I like my females to behave. I will bring one back."

He leaves the door open as everything spins and pain threatens to make me pass out. I barely see Kyrell shutting the door behind him before running over to me, dropping his helmet with a clank. He takes my hand, and instantly the pain ebbs away. "I'm so sorry, Story. Fuck, stay awake."

"Don't heal me," I plead, but it's too late. The pain is nearly gone, and he looks so pale. Even the stars can't make this night bright. It is all dark and it will never stop.

"I can't. I wish I could…but I will always heal you."

I blink out of the memory, the horror of that night and how it was just the beginning. As for the rest of that night—I wish I could forget it. There's a rustle behind me, and I swing to look where it came from. On the brick wall is a massive, empty picture frame. I noticed it when I came in here, and I saw a few of them in the corridors outside. The picture's empty, just a wooden frame on the brick. The bricks slide across, clicking as each one disappears. Henrietta appears on the other side, holding a lantern, and she is in a pink nightdress. "Hello, can I come in?"

"Is that a secret door?" I mutter. "And yes, but?—"

"Ziven doesn't know I can use the frames to move about, or that I'm missing from my room, or he never would have put you in this room," she answers with a grin. "But don't worry, because only people from the royal Moon Dynasty line can use them. It's part of our magic."

She really is a cheeky child. "I don't think you should be in here speaking to me. Ziven thinks I'm a spy."

"You're not," she confidently replies, walking in and sitting on the end of the bed. "And you look sad. You didn't even get to try the cakes. They bring them out after Ziven leaves because Ziven never eats the cakes, and he thinks they are bad for your teeth. He can be boring." She offers me a small cupcake covered in yellow frosting. "It's actually chocolate cake with yellow lemon frosting on top. The cook makes them for me because she knows they're my favourite. Everyone else says they're disgusting, but I really like them."

I smile at her. She is sweet. "I love chocolate cake, but I've never tried it with lemon before."

As I take the cake from her, she looks down at her feet. "I'm sorry you have to spend all your days in here. I know it's not nice not being able to leave."

"Does he really keep you trapped in here?" I question, concerned for her. There is being trapped in a magic mansion, and there is being trapped in a room. One is not okay. Well, neither of them is, but she can at least explore this place.

Hettie grins. "I was just annoying him. No, he lets me go outside with my guards. After what happened to my mother, his sister, he doesn't want me to get hurt. He's already lost everyone else."

My heart clenches. "Oh, so you're his niece. I'm sorry you lost your mother. Is your father alive?"

"I'm not allowed to talk about it all," she quickly answers, like she just remembered I'm not in their dynasty and Ziven has likely told her I'm terrible or something close to it. Her features, so much about her doesn't look a thing like Ziven. I can see a little bit of Ziven when she frowns though. Hettie looks like she belongs in the Sun Dynasty, and she reminds me of Daegan. With how much Ziven didn't want me to talk about Hettie with Daegan, could he be her father? Is that why they hate each other? "Don't cry." She touches my hand. I barely even notice the tear on my cheek, and it's from earlier, held in place.

"It's not being here that made me cry, it's just memories of the past," I softly tell her. She nods, and I bite into the cupcake to change the subject. It's strange to have the sweetness of the chocolate and the tang of the lemon together, but it's actually really nice. I eat it all before grinning at her. "That's probably the nicest cupcake I've ever had."

"Really?" Her eyes widen. "I knew I liked you! Uncle Ziven was wrong about you, and he will figure that out soon. I can't stay long. Grandmother is going to notice I'm missing and get really mad."

It's cute that our similar taste in cupcakes seems to decide if I'm a good person or not. "I didn't think she was Ziven's mother," I enquire. I just didn't get that vibe from them.

She wrinkles her nose. "No, she isn't, but we call her that because she acts like one to us all. She is the oldest person alive in here. The dragons are older, but they can't bake cookies and teach you how to fight with a sword… Don't tell her I said that she's old."

I barely hold in my laugh. "I won't."

Hettie goes to the frame, and the bricks move for her, opening the door. "By the way, the shower is the same as the bath. The water in this mansion heals us from most things. Just in case Ziven forgets to tell you."

She disappears behind the bricks, and I head straight for the shower as quickly as my sore body will take me.