Chapter Twenty

Ellesandra

For all his regalia, the King of Risian is the most rotten, miserable excuse of a creature I've been forced to endure.

Thick, tense silence descends as we glare at one another. The bastard knows I'd rather see my tongue removed before I lower myself to begging. Queens don't beg.

I try to rise, only to realize I'm unable to escape. The King of Risian hovers over me, the smug grin stretching across his face impossibly further as he nestles his thigh between my legs. Warmth radiates from his chest as his arm remains banded across my chest. Frustration claws at me when I squirm and it does nothing more than remind me of the ache between my legs.

"I despise you," I grind out when he shifts his thigh and a fresh wave of need flows through me.

He tsks and shakes his head. A haze of lust threatens to cloud my vision when he peppers wet, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. "The way you ground your pretty cunt against my hand moments ago speaks differently."

I open my mouth to tell him that I'd rather throw myself from the highest window of the palace than allow him to lay his hands on me again. All thoughts of doing so float to the stars as his lips move further down my chest. The bond preens as he shifts, and his free hand wraps around my wrists above my head.

His gaze is iron-clad when he raises his head. My longing to escape wanes as we stare at one another. His eyes are the brightest shade of blue that temper my soul with burning desire. They forge a thousand swords of yearning that pierce the organ inside my chest. It's too much to bear.

"Five hundred years and your body still sings for me," he whispers in wonderment. His gaze never strays from my face.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, commanding my senses to focus with the understanding that he's trying to goad me. While I've known this day would always come, I don't have to play a further part in such foolishness. The smell of fresh parchment and the delectable blackberry wine that puddles beside my hand fills my nose. Sheets of rain lash against the window pane and strike the glass to the beat of a steady drum.

I take another deep breath. My back aches as I splay my fingers across the smooth wood of the war table. Upon its creation, my father felt it was fitting that the strategy table be made from wood of the evodia trees. I imagine the particular scenario I've been thrust into now wasn't what he had in mind.

My eyes spring open when the wood begins to bite into my back and I shift uncomfortably. The King of Risian's hold disappears on me with my next breath.

Despite the dizziness that washes over me, I don't allow myself a moment to gather my bearings as I sit upright. I stand and smooth the skirts of my gown as befitting of my title. Even if I'm filthier than I've ever been in all my life, and no crown rests upon my brow, I remain a queen. A crown doesn't make a woman, after all. It's the woman who makes the crown.

Felix watches me closely as the wave of dizziness ebbs and my vision clears. I'm relieved to find he stands a healthy distance away, though my soul aches when his gaze latches to the dried streaks of crimson clinging to the hem of my gown. I remember the murderous shadows that dance behind his azure eyes well.

My relief is short-lived. A muscle feathers in his sculpted jaw as he takes a long stride forward. Despite my glower, he crowds my space and raises his hand. I suppress a shudder as the warmth from his fingertips seeps into my skin.

"Are you hurt?" He cups my jaw and tilts my chin upward.

His nostrils flare as I jerk out of his touch and steel my spine. "It's fitting, I suppose." The corners of my lips curve into a mocking smile. "You've always underestimated the strength of women." I despise how the words grate against my throat.

In the early morning light, faint, purple shadows are cast beneath his eyes. I can't help but wonder about the cause of his restlessness. All of this is due to his ridiculous crusade. Bitter resentment coats my tongue. As I suspected, the slaughter in the woods was nothing more than a mind game. I shouldn't be surprised, seeing that the King of Risian's soul has been stained with red far longer than mine.

His features are the finest marble as I take a small step backward. A jolt of energy shoots through my veins when I step around him and the tips of his fingers graze my arm. I silently mourn the spoiled wine that drips from the table's edge as I glide to the window. Aside from the destruction of my home, it's the king who stands behind me that convinces me this is a conversation I don't wish to have sober.

I'm not foolish enough to believe there's a scenario where I escape him—unscathed or otherwise. Even if my instincts scream in warning, I won't lower myself to ask him to stay his hand. The bond, however, pays little mind to the warning. The sweet promises his magic whispers to my soul are a sensual allure that's difficult to resist.

"While I've questioned your choices, I've never underestimated you, Ellesandra. I can't say that's a sentiment you've returned in kind." I give little care to the frustration that laces his tone.

"Yes," I scoff. "I underestimated the leagues in which you'll go to bring about my ruin."

Through the reflection of the glass, his hand flexes at his side. "Your ruin? Is the freedom I've granted you for five centuries truly so egregious?"

"Freedom?" I whirl on my heels, anger flooding my veins. "Would you say this is freedom?" I hiss, outstretching my hands to gesture around the room.

His nostrils flare as he takes another step forward. "I've left you be for five hundred years, Ellesandra." Another step. "Sat idly by and watched you parade men around your court as if you don't belong to me." I roll my eyes. "Watched as your people began to turn against you, and the war you so relentlessly pursued all but crumbled your coffers and, effectively, your kingdom." I show no emotion, despite the twinge of agony that lances through my chest.

He comes to tower over me with a final step. "I've done nothing but save you from making a further mockery of your mother and father's re—"

My open palm connects with the roughness of his jaw in a resounding crack before the poisonous words can fall from his lips.

The flash in his eyes speaks of his anger, but I give little care.

"So draw your sword and send me to the grave," I whisper, leaning forward. "In the end, I'm to fare no better than my mother."

His fingers sink into the hair at the nape of my neck. "You're mistaken once again," he snarls, wrenching my head upward. "Even the darkest shadows of death couldn't save you from me, Lumina. Wherever it is I must go, I will find you. Always."

I stiffen when Felix's hand comes to rest on the small of my back as he leads us across the threshold of the war chamber.

Risian soldiers remain along the respective sides of the tall, gilded doors. They straighten and stand to attention as we pass. When I glance in their direction, I don't find hatred staring back at me. Instead, their gazes are trained ahead, as if defeating the enemy of a thousand year war is something they're accustomed to. I silently rue their existence as they fall into step behind us.

Although large puddles of crimson and the stench of death remain, the maimed corpses of my council are nowhere in sight as we reach the grand staircase. Felix brings our party to a halt as I lift the skirts of my gown. I pay little attention to the questioning glances Risian soldiers cast one another. Whether swathed in the finest silk or in tattered rags, I will carry myself as the monarch I am.

I angle my head and narrow my eyes when I spy another group of men standing guard at the bottom of the staircase. The sight is a bitter reminder that none of my men are left to pose a threat. It would matter little if they were.

"Nothing will be left to chance in matters concerning you, Lumina," he murmurs, seeming to recognize the path my thoughts have taken. The heat radiating from his palm brands the skin of my back through my gown.

The retort on the tip of my tongue dies as we round the corridor to the Great Hall. A wealth of relief flows through me as I spy pin-straight, sable locks before the towering, ornate doors to the hall. The corners of my lips threaten to lift. Although her back is to me, I recognize the sultry tone she speaks to the familiar guard in. Goldie's fine, yellow hair shines beneath the golden morning light. His hand rests loosely on the pommel of the sword sheathed at his side as he angles his head and listens to Sianna with intent. Felix lifts a brow.

My gaze flickers to the woman standing to the left of the Risian princess. While Goldie's purpose both here and on the battlefield is clear, Ayla's is not. Although she wears the same uniform as the other Risian soldiers, something leads me to believe I'm missing a crucial piece of information.

I brush the thought aside when she flashes me a smug grin dripping with malice. Delight dances in her eyes as she scans me from head to toe. I raise my chin, refusing to cower beneath her stare. Satisfaction swells in my chest when Felix follows the path of my gaze and Ayla quickly averts her eyes.

Betrayal slices through me like the sharpest of blades when my eyes come to rest on the man that stands to the far left. Warwick.

From the moment I saw him, all but warming the bed of the enemy in the war chamber of our home, I knew. In hindsight, his calm demeanor when I declared I would be going to the battlefield makes sense.

My blood is set alight with hatred as I stare at him. His gray-peppered beard is unkempt and wild. I clench my hands into fists at my sides when he meets my gaze. His too-pale skin and dark eyes speak to his lack of rest. I find little comfort in the small circles Felix sweeps across the small of my back as the corners of Warwick's lips lift into a sad smile.

His concern for my safety was a farce. Warwick all but opened the doors of the Amber Palace to the King of Risian. It's almost amusing. Despite preparing for inevitable betrayal for five centuries, an ache pierces my heart all the same.

I shove all thoughts of his betrayal into a trunk and slam the lid shut when Felix brings us to a stop.

"Ella!" Sianna cries when she glances over her shoulder.

I must admit the title I bestowed upon her suits her well. A wide grin splits across her face as she turns to rush toward me. The soft pink gown she wears is simple yet elegant. Pearls of various sizes cascade down the bodice and fall into the satin skirts that cinch her petite waist. Given the way the clean hem brushes the marble, one wouldn't suspect that bodies litter the earth just outside.

A chill skates across my arms when Felix withdraws his hand from my back and Sianna crushes me in her embrace. "Stars, I'm glad you're alright," she sighs.

I stiffen with the contact, unsure of what to do with my hands. I'm not accustomed to physical touch outside an intimate nature. My hands come to rest on her arms.

After giving me a final tight squeeze, she releases her hold of me, thank the stars. "Are you hurt? Whose blood is that?" Concern swirls in the depths of her wide, emerald eyes as she takes a step back.

"It's not my blood." Her brow creases when the words leave my throat as a rasp. "I'm fine."

The softness of her features disappears with her glance over my shoulder. My mirror soul's hand returns to the small of my back. The Risian princess' smile doesn't quite meet her eyes as she steps aside and allows us to pass.

Thick plumes of smoke fill my lungs the moment Risain soldiers haul the doors open. The hill the Amber Palace sits atop affords me a gruesome view of what remains of my home. A large, gaping hole leaves the cobblestone street that leads to the town square in fragments. The wrought iron gates that once served as an entrance to the palace are a memory, bent and twisted with warfare.

Sorrow dips into the crevices of my soul when my gaze latches to the townspeople huddled at the bottom of the hill. Mothers cling to their children. Their eyes are wide with fear, and tears carve a path down their soot-covered cheeks.

I push aside the emotion when it swells and takes on the form of guilt. While I may be their queen, I didn't ask for this. I'm as much a prisoner as they are in the matter.

Horse-drawn wheelhouses that await us come into my line of sight, and gray storm clouds overtake the sky. Felix twines his fingers through mine and begins to rub soothing circles along the back of my hand. Lightning flashes overheard as the embers of my rage spark to life. I allow my anger to consume me, consequences be damned.

He glances up at the sky and then back to me. "I've commanded two thousand men to remain behind and assist with recovery efforts. I won't hurt the people of Minalis."

"Yes, ever the gracious ruler you are," I scoff. "You destroy entire kingdoms like a petulant child when one dares to challenge you. Then you ask your men to lay down arms and aid those whose blood coats the swords at their sides."

His nostrils flare as he stops and turns to face me. "What choice did you leave me, Ellesandra?" The skies open up and rain lashes against the earth in a show of my wrath. "This war was your doing. Would you rather I allow them to die for your pride?"

Those among our party shift uncomfortably on their feet as a tense silence mingles with the death and smoke in the air. I wrench my hand from his grasp. "Do as you please. It matters little to me."

"Ah, yes, your feigned interest is purely selfish, of course. You can't be concerned with anything that doesn't directly serve you—"

"And how, pray tell, does it serve you?" I snap. My anger pays no attention to the light cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh behind me.

His eyes narrow over my shoulder for a beat before his gaze returns to me. "I have nothing against your people, Ellesandra. They will be our people, after all."

"I can assure you that's not going to happen."

He steps closer and comes to tower over me. "And I can assure you it will. Get in the wheelhouse."

Although rain soaks the thin material of my gown and leaves little to the imagination, I square my shoulders and raise my chin. "Sianna will accompany me."

"No," he growls. "This isn't a request, Ellesandra. Get in the fucking wheelhouse now or I'll throw you over my shoulder and do it myself."

I turn my head and glance at Sianna with pleading eyes to ignore the tantalizing want that ricochets through the bond. The Risian princess does a poor job of hiding the smile that plays on her lips. Goldie and the others who stand beside her share similar expressions of amusement.

I roll my eyes and tamper down the urge to test if Felix will make good on his promise. He will. The arrogant bastard finds a wicked sense of delight in touching me. He always has.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I don't look back at what's left of my home as I stomp past him.

Ellesandra,

Time creeps along, though I'm filled with dread as the hours that pass. Each rise of the sun and crest of the moon sees another day closer to your upcoming nuptials.

You don't have to marry him. Whatever it is your father promises King Alardin is nothing when compared to the bond that we share. I have petitioned both my father and his council and await their decision. But, we both know that's merely a formality. My father can cast aside his sole heir to the throne and take my crown if he wishes. So long as I have you by my side, I'm content with being banished to the most barren of wastelands.

And you will be by my side, Lumina.

I will love you through the grief that plagues you now, and the halo of sun that surrounds you with joy's return.

And it will return. I swear it on my sword and life. Whatever it is that we must face, we can do so together.

I'll be waiting for you at the outskirts of the Greenwrath Forest, on the edge of the Risian/Minalis border.

Come to me.