Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 426(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“Oh, they tried right enough, but Prince Xaren heard her screaming. He’d been riding that big, black stallion of his, you know. He named him ‘Death’ and nobody but him can handle the big brute.”
“Yes, but go on with the story—what happened?” I demand. I find I’m on the edge of my seat—well, not literally, since I’m in the bath—but you get the idea.
“Well, as I said, the Dark Prince heard her screaming and he came round the side of the stables and saw what the stables boys were doing. Or trying to do, as it were,” she says. “So from what I heard, he hauled them off of her and beat them all bloody! Said he wouldn’t tolerate rape in his kingdom. Can you imagine? None of the other Nobles or Royals cares about such things—especially not when it’s just a lowly servant girl.”
Actually, I can imagine. In my mind’s eye, it’s a vivid image—the huge figure of the Dark Prince grabbing the dirty stable boys and yanking them off the poor girl, helpless and screaming. I can almost see his fist plowing into their faces as his left eye burns with dragon fire and rage…
I have no idea why this has captured my imagination so, but I confess that it has. I finish my bath and—at Tanzy’s urging—go to bed early. Because, as she chirps, “Tomorrow is a big day for you, my Lady! You must be well rested for the ceremony. And then afterwards…your wedding night.”
I try very hard not to think about her words as I snuggle down in bed. Instead, I picture Xaren beating up the stable boys again and wonder why he did it. As Tanzy said, none of the other Nobles or Royals would care enough to stop a rape in progress.
That’s true in my home too. A girl has to be careful where she goes and who she’s with. If she’s raped, she gets the blame. People will say she was “loose” or “asking for it.” That’s one reason my dalliance with our own stable boy was so foolish. I could have gotten myself pregnant if he’d pressed the issue harder and I hadn’t managed to get away from him in time. Then where would I be? Out on the streets instead of sleeping in the Royal Citadel, about to marry the Crown Prince—that’s where.
I push the images and ideas out of my head. I don’t want to think about tomorrow… about getting married and what follows after. I just want to rest so I can get through the wedding ceremony.
I’ll worry about the wedding night afterwards.
4
ELAINA
The ceremony passes in a blur.
Prince Dorian and I stand side-by-side in the Royal Chapel, sun shining through its stained-glass windows, and the elderly priest presiding wears a tall blue hat sewn with golden symbols.
Dorian looks splendid in his jeweled waistcoat and jacket, and his cravat is an elegant lace cloud beneath his chin. To his right, his best friend Henri acts as his best man. To be honest, the two of them seem more interested in whispering to each other than attending to what the old priest is saying in his slow, laborious way.
I am swimming in my dress—yes, it fits, despite the two pastries of the night before. It looks like an enormous edible confection—made of layer upon layer of ruffled pink organza, cinched at the waist and cut to show my shoulders—which are the only part of me that doesn’t get overheated in the stuffy chapel. By the end of the vows—where I swear to obey Dorian and everyone in his lineage and to do my best to give the Royal family strong heirs—I feel almost ready to faint. If only the dress wasn’t so hot…and the chapel so crowded and close!
I do manage to get through the entire ceremony…or so I thought. But then it turns out there’s a musical call and response section, which nobody warned me about!
At this point, for some reason, Henri steps back and Xaren—who’s been standing behind us with the King and Queen this whole time—steps forward. He stands to Dorian’s left, which means he’s right beside me—so close I can smell his sharp, spicy scent—a nice change from the cloying cologne that his brother is wearing.
I don’t have a bad voice, but I’ve never heard this music before. I have to sing back what the old priest sings to me in his cracked and quavering voice. The words aren’t even in a language I understand, either—I just have to do my best to quickly memorize what the priest sang and sing it back to him.
Dorian and Xaren have to sing responses as well. The Crown Prince has a weak tenor and he doesn’t seem very interested in what he’s singing. Xaren, however, has a deep, chocolatey baritone which is surprisingly tuneful. I look at him from the corner of my eye as he sings his responses. His arm is pressed against mine and I can feel his deep tones vibrating my body.