Bab 20: The Prison
Rache stared at the red thread that was now on the floor of the carriage. It had been cut cleanly in half by the dagger Donncahd held in his hand.
She looked up at him, but he didn't seem to notice her gaze. He was staring out the window, as though he hadn't just severed their connection forever.
She felt a strange sense of loss. As if she'd lost something important.
The thread didn't mean anything.
The marriage didn't mean anything.
His cutting of the thread made it obvious that it wasn't just her who knew this.
And yet her stomach lurched when she stared down at the cord that lay on the ground.
Her gaze turned to her wrist.
Faint red still outlined on her skin where the threads had been, but it didn't hurt. The thread had been soft, and the binding wasn't tight.
She rubbed the mark with her finger, and then lowered her hand back to her lap. She glanced over at Donncahd again. He was still staring out the window, looking as if he had no interest in saying anything to her. Perhaps ever.
What was the point?
Maybe it was for the best that he didn't attempt to pretend they had some kind of genuine relationship. She wasn't certain she could stomach it if he pretended to be kind or romantic when she knew that blade would sink into her next.
She closed her eyes, leaning back against the seat. The carriage was moving quickly, and she could feel every bump and jostle as it went along the road.
She wondered where they were going. Wherever it was, she hoped there would be food waiting for them when they arrived. She was starving.
The carriage came to a halt, and Rache opened her eyes again.
They were outside a large building made of stone. It had tall towers rising above it, and she could see several guards standing at attention nearby.
There were no windows visible from that side of the structure.
She looked around, trying to figure out where they were.
This wasn't the palace...?
"This is our wedding home." Donncahd's voice cut through the silence so suddenly it startled her.
She whipped her head back toward him.
His red eyes weren't focused on her, but he was at least looking in her direction now.
"It's Sideran tradition that the prince and princess be kept in a wedding home for a week."
He didn't elaborate further.
She pressed her lips together, and turned her gaze back to the building. "It looks...impressive."
"It's a prison." Donncahd's voice was quiet, but firm. He didn't seem bothered by the idea that they were being held prisoner.
In fact, he seemed almost amused at the thought. "We won't be allowed out until the week has passed."
A prison.
Her lips quirked up faintly.
All of Sidera was a prison.
Her marriage to Donncahd was a prison and at the end waited a death sentence.
This building wasn't any different.
She glanced at him, and found his gaze on her again. His red eyes were unreadable, but there was something about them that made her feel uncomfortable.
As if he was studying her, analyzing every detail of her face and body. It was unnerving.
She looked away from him, turning her attention back to the building. "I see."
The door of the carriage opened, and Donncahd stepped out first. He offered her his hand, and she took it without hesitation. His touch was cold, and his fingers were rough.
They felt like they belonged to someone who spent their days wielding swords instead of holding hands with a princess.
Because they did. Obviously.
She allowed him to help her out of the carriage, and then followed behind him as they walked toward the entrance of the building.
The door swung open as they approached, and a servant bowed low before them. "Welcome, Your Highnesses."
The man's voice was soft and respectful. He wore a uniform that matched the guards standing nearby. "We hope you enjoy your stay here."
Rache glanced around the interior of the building. There were no windows in sight, but there were torches lining the walls, casting shadows across the floor.
The air smelled of a perfume she couldn't recognize, and the decorations were...
Eclectic.
They were beautiful, but strange.
Statues and paintings covered every available surface, and the furniture looked like it had been carved from wood that was hundreds of years old. She couldn't tell if the place was luxurious or just plain creepy.
She wasn't sure which she would have preferred.
As they walked, Donncahd spoke casually, without looking at her. "Fertility."
She blinked and turned her gaze up toward him immediately.
He wasn't looking at her. "This place was set up by a very superstitious ancestor. I'll have it torn down when I become king."
Her eyes widened, and she looked away from him, turning her gaze back to the decorations. "Oh."
He didn't say anything else after that.
She felt a shiver run down her spine. She wasn't certain what to make of his words, but she knew one thing for sure: he wasn't joking. He meant every word of it. When he became king, this building would be destroyed.
Superstition and tradition had no place in the Sidera ruled by Mad King Donncahd.
The servant led them through a long hallway lined with doors. Each door had a symbol painted on it, and she couldn't help but notice that some symbols were repeated more than others.
Some were crossed out, while others had been scratched off entirely. She wondered what the significance of those markings was.
Other than the fertility, apparently.
Finally, they reached the end of the corridor, where a large door stood open. The servant gestured for them to enter, and then closed the door behind them.
Rache looked around the room. It was spacious and well appointed, with a large bed dominating the center of the space.
There were several chairs and a table near the fireplace, and a small desk sat beside a window that overlooked the garden below.
The curtains had been drawn back, allowing the moonlight to filter into the room. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting shadows across the floor.
She hadn't realized that the sun had set until just then.
She turned toward Donncahd, who was standing next to the bed. His gaze was fixed on her, and she felt a chill run down her spine. She couldn't read his expression, but she knew that he wasn't happy about being here with her.
It couldn't be any more obvious that their union was determined by his father. He had little more choice in it than she did.
...She almost laughed at that thought.
Donncahd almost certainly had more of a choice than her. She had none. He could have refused, and his father would have had to accept it. Rache couldn't refuse.
She was a prisoner of Sidera, and even before Sidera, she'd become a prisoner of Aurania.
She was a pawn in their game, nothing more.
The prince's gaze remained fixed on her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine. She wasn't certain what to make of his expression. He seemed to be studying her, analyzing every detail of her face and body. It was unnerving. She shifted uncomfortably beneath his stare.
She swallowed and moved carefully to sit at a chair as far from the bed as possible.
His lips suddenly quirked into a smile.
And then cold, cruel laughter filled the room.
"Are you afraid I'm about to spoil you, Princess of Porcelain?" His voice was low and dangerous. "Do you think I'll force myself on you? Order you to obey my every savage whim now that you have no escape?"
Her heart raced, and her breath caught in her throat. She couldn't speak, couldn't move. Her entire body trembled, and her stomach lurched.
He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His hand reached out and grabbed her chin, forcing her head up so she could look into his eyes.
"I have no interest in a fragile doll like you." He leaned down, his face inches from hers. "I won't dirty myself lying with a corpse."
She jerked away from his touch, turning her face away, stiffening.
A corpse.
Did he know?
Was he already planning to kill her, even now?
Did he see her as nothing more than the walking dead?
He was silent a moment, before he spoke in a voice that was...
Not quite softer.
Curious, perhaps.
"...Are you offended?" His finger touched her chin and forced her to turn back toward him without a hint of effort. "Would you prefer that I-"
"No." Her voice was quiet, but firm. She met his gaze with her own. "I would not."
His eyes narrowed slightly, and he released her chin. He stepped back, and she let out a sigh of relief.
He released a short sound.
It might have been a laugh.
"I imagine you'd shatter if I even tried."
She pressed her lips together. How long was he going to keep talking about that-?! "I'm not as fragile as I look." She snapped, finally.
He turned his head to watch her.
He was silent for a long moment. Just. Watching her. As if he were calculating something. Or perhaps waiting for her to say something else.
Finally, he shook his head.
"Go to sleep, Princess. I'm not going to touch you."
...He simply left.
Before she could respond, he simply walked out of the room.
As usual.
Hadiah
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