Chapter 1
I will never be free.
I have been chained for so long, I’m not sure I would know what to do with freedom. And now, I will never find out.
We’re nearly there now, my new prison.
Jokith.
Even the name sounds cold and brutal.
Just like its endless frozen landscape. Just like the rumors of its beastly king, the man I will soon belong to.
Tales of the seclusive warrior people run wild.
Whispers abound of how they drink blood from the skulls of their enemies, of the beasts they become on the battlefield and the bodies they leave torn in their wake.
I shiver at the thought. It will be interesting to navigate the facts from falsehoods.
It’s not like I had time to do any real research. Six hours. That’s how much notice I had before I left on a journey that would change my entire life.
Six hours to hear the barest details about this kingdom and its king, my soon-to-be husband. Six hours to sit perfectly still while my wedding markings were inked onto my arms and wrists, remnants of a culture I can hardly remember.
Then, eight solid days to dwell on all the goodbyes I didn’t get to say.
I want to scream.
None of this even makes sense. Arranged marriages haven’t been done in centuries, even in the Eastern Lands.
It’s not surprising that a king would marry a woman a third his age, but why one he’s never even met? For that matter, a man in his position should have his choice of brides. What prompted him to purchase a lady of middling importance from a neighboring kingdom?
Madame is persuasive, but surely even she has no influence over the Jokithan King...unless he truly is a barbarian, and all he wants is a bride he could use up and dispose of. Someone no one else would miss.
Icy tendrils edge slowly in through the window, and I can feel them winding their way through my body, down to my core. The handle on the carriage door mocks me with empty promises of escape.
Damian notices my glance from the seat across from me and gives me a cruel smirk. But it’s not Madame’s watchdog who keeps me from fleeing.
It’s not even the day-long trek back to the inn at Colby in my silken slippers and thin wedding ensemble. Truthfully, facing a blizzard with no clothes at all would be preferable to the future I’m hurtling toward.
The reasons I don’t flee are my sisters.
The few lady’s maids who were sent with me stare ahead with dead eyes and lifeless expressions. Even when they shiver and struggle to keep their seats in the jostling carriage, their expressions don’t change.
The only time they show any emotion at all is when they cringe after capturing Damian’s wandering eye.
He brushes his knee against mine, watching my face for any sign of the reaction I refuse to give him, though my skin crawls at each point of contact.
“This plan has been a long time in the making,” he says in the eerily calm tone he always uses. “Try not to ruin it.”
“Perhaps I would be more likely to succeed if Madame had seen fit to give me more than half a day’s notice,” I shoot back.
His features turn feral.
“Mother, you mean.”
I swallow a gag. She is not my mother. She’s not even my aunt, as the castle has been led to believe. She’s just the woman who took everything from me.
But for all that she bribes and tortures the rest of the world into submission, Damian follows her out of sheer devotion. In turn, she lets him off his leash to be a sadistic monster. Already, I fear for the ladies in the carriage when I leave.
But that’s one more thing I have no power to control.
“Yes, of course. Mother.” At least, I can try not to provoke him. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“Good,” he smiles, but there is no warmth to it. “We all know what happens when you aren’t at your best.”
And there it is. The reason I am here at all.
My sisters would pay for my disobedience. Hadn’t they before?
I take a deep breath, willing the emotion from my face.
The carriage rattles and shakes as we draw nearer the ancient gray stone walls ahead. With each bump and jolt, my stomach sends waves of nausea through me. I focus on what lies beyond the frosted window — anything to distract myself.
The top of the castle and the outer walls surrounding it come into view at last. The enormous façade is outlined by a lifeless, overcast sky and the black, choppy waters of the canal that encompass it.
The slow groan of an iron gate rattles the world around us, a foreboding greeting playing out in each clink of metal as it lifts high enough for our carriage to pass through.
Ahead of us stands Castle Alfhild, a massive edifice of dark, imposing turrets.
Morbid curiosity takes over as I scan each menacing brick and snow-covered tower. The castle has exactly one splash of color. Almost as if it was an afterthought, a single stained-glass window sits high above in one of the spires, mocking me with its depiction of a black-stemmed, blood-red rose.
Rose.
The word is like a curse that follows me everywhere I go.
I sit up straighter, pushing the thought and its painful associations out of my head. I smooth out the skirts of my beaded red bridal outfit, more to occupy myself than because I actually care.
Because I need to think about anything other than my frantically beating heart and the ceremony ahead that will surely break what’s left of it.
“You look lovely, Lady Zaina.” Damian twirls a lock of my midnight hair around his finger, his words dripping with a vulgar sort of lust.
His other hand reaches up my thigh, and I sit perfectly still, forcing a playful smirk to my lips. Slapping him away would only invoke his wrath, and I wouldn’t be around long enough to subdue it.
“Thank you,” I say with a wave of my finger. “But no touching. We’re nearly there now, and I wouldn’t want to give my new husband the wrong idea about our relationship.”
He laughs, and it only encourages my nausea.
“Don’t kid yourself, Zaina. It’s not like anyone could mistake you for a virtuous bride, even with this.” His fingers play along the chain that runs from my golden nose ring to my matching ear cuff.
“And as far as our relationship.” He says the word like it’s something dirty, and I fight the urge to shudder. “I know Mother has had her reasons for keeping me out of your bed, but there will be time enough for that down the line.”
I swallow down the bile building in my throat, my smile freezing on my face. I don’t need anyone to remind me that I’m tainted goods. Damian knows better than anyone that choice was never mine.
A few more moments pass by in silence until we finally come to a rocky halt. Damian steps out of the carriage to be met by a shadowed figure that towers over him. A man, I realize.
They converse in low tones until I hear the clipped edges of the sadist’s words, enough to realize that he’s upset.
I can’t hear what the newcomer is saying, but the whispers that linger at the end of each syllable send tremors down my spine. Their conversation is a brief back-and-forth until Damian rips open the door. His dark eyes are furious, but his voice is calm when he speaks.
“Looks like I won’t be allowed to so much as walk you in.”
I bite back a satisfied smile at his frustration. I’m not sure why he expected anything different when we had known I would face this alone.