Kryndor's Bride part 10

Previously...

But seeing her like this, demanding engagement gifts in the same breath that she worries about her people, makes my skin bristle.

Something is off.

She will be my concubine, but I will never trust her. I've got my own secrets that are bigger than me, bigger than life.

And I've already been burned by a female once. It won't ever happen again.

PRESENTLY...
CERYN

Three days after moving into the king's chambers, I still wake up expecting to see my dark den.

I have yet to get used to this palace and the male that quietly lays beside me at night. Many things have changed. My sheets have been removed from the mezzanine, though the king's sheets still hang.

My wardrobe has been added to an empty closet full of beautiful dresses of various textures, colors, and modesty. And I've dove into my lessons with Mael to learn about court etiquette, religion, and political and physical geography.

The culture and customs of this world are so vastly different than the one in The Underhold. Even the gestures are odd: Four fingers to the chin is respectful, while three is considered rude. Everyone at the table must stop when the Xor is done eating. Pregnant women must not be touched, and Goddess have mercy if I walk around barefoot during a storm.

There are so many rules to follow, so many dos and don'ts, but it's nothing compared to dynastic studies. My head hurts every time I have to recite the Houses and their families.

"Mael," I say, lowering my flute.

"Yes?" she replies, looking away from her bible, which she had silently read.

"I hope it's not rude to ask. But I noticed that all the young ladies of the palace were wearing…"

How do I explain that I noticed the young nobles wearing thin, light dresses? Their nipples were visible through the white and beige-colored garments. Their hair was lowered instead of their typical updos. The men wore similar tunics, a few buttons undone.

It's not typical of them. They usually wear extravagant, layered clothes buried under troves of jewelry.

"Remember yesterday's lecture on our gods?"

Unlike lowdwellers, the topdwellers only worship goddesses. They stopped honoring male gods thousands of years ago when our world was cursed, and young women were denied their fertility. The topdwellers forsook the male gods and prayed to the females in hopes they would be saved.

"Yes, I do."

"Young nobles are sexual creatures. Monogamy is not required until marriage. Yesterday, we started the Fortnight of Solace, where we celebrate our Goddess of life and death."

"Am I…required to participate?" I ask, remembering some of the revealing dresses that hang in my closet—ones that I originally thought were nightgowns until a maid corrected me.

Mael glances at me before returning to her bible. "Only for the last night."

"What happens during the last night?"

"That is for the Xor to answer."

The mystery makes my skin bristle.

"We're running late on schedule. Let's concentrate," Mael says. "Recite what the highest house of Vak'thra's is, the strength of the kingdom, and its main weakness."

"House Fyrak. Weaponsmithing. Small population."

She nods and lowers her bible. "Good. You've been paying attention."

***

That night, I ate dinner alone. The king doesn't come to bed, and I suspect many more lonely nights will come.

When I awake the next morning, drowning in the massive bed of silky sheets, I find something beside me. A small chest full to the brim of jewels. My engagement gift.

I dig my nails into the chest protectively. I must send this to my uncle today. It will do my father good.

I can only pray that Mael will help me.

I dress out of my nightgown and into a practical, long dress. The waistband loose and the sleeves a bit too long, as if the tailor misjudged my size. I don't care to complain. I'm grateful.

When Mael knocks on the door to escort me to the library, I welcome her inside. She politely declines, mentioning something about a rule forbidding her to enter.

"I need your help," Mael," I whisper, glancing over her shoulder and anxiously tugging at my sleeve.

"My…help?" she asks, voice guarded like she suspects me.

She's my mentor, but I know her loyalty lies solely with the king. She can very well report me to him, but I've got no one else to confide in.

"The Xor gifted me jewels, and I need your help sending them to my father."

"You're rejecting His Highness's gift?"

"My father needs them. He's got nothing. Can you help me, please? I've written instructions on how to reach him."

I sound desperate, my voice raspy and low, showing her a vulnerability that I've never revealed before. I've fought hard to gain her respect, never complaining about the mountains of books she assigned me to read.

She stares at me through her dark veil, analyzing me.

"Why won't you ask the Xor?"

"Because he may decline. My father is still blamed for what happened to Tephra. I don't want any trouble. I just want to–"

She raises a fist, a gesture native to topdwellers that means stop. "Enough, child. Enough. I will take care of it."

"You have my eternal gratitude."

She reaches out and accepts the chest. "Do not get comfortable with my kindness. Now, let's go. We are running late."

We spend hours in the small library, sitting behind a great, heavy desk with fragments atoning to its age. Precious books are sprawled before us. Their language is difficult, but Mael is patient with me. She doesn't smack my hand when I struggle to pronounce a word like the elders would when I was a child.

The library is hushed. The giant doors and windows closed. And yet the distant sound of the waterfalls manage to seep through the cracks. A familiar sound that reminds me of waves crashing against the cliff that father and I would scale a dozen times a month.

When a knock interrupts our reading, Mael rises and goes to open the door.

"Kryndor," she says.

I rise from my seat right as the king walks past Mael to enter the library. His eyes fasten on me, and I feel my throat constrict with fear. He never takes time from his busy schedule to check in on me. This must be about the jewels.

 "Come here, Ceryn."

His voice effortlessly echoes throughout the chiseled stone walls and porcelain tiles to reach me. The grip on my throat tightens. This male has a way of trapping me without setting a single finger on me.

"Someone wants to greet you," he says.

Mael makes a subtle gesture for me to obey. It's the very first lesson she taught me. Never make the king wait.

I swallow as I walk away from the carpet, approaching him with quick strides until I'm standing before him and taking in his magnificence. As breathtaking as the day I first saw him in the loading bay.

He wears simple leather riding pants and loose grey chemise. Adorned with silver buttons and a few buckles. His top is wrinkled, and his sleeves are pushed up to reveal his forearms. There are no embroideries, fancy textures, beads, or embellishments. And yet the veins that rope his forearms—the same ones I saw a peek of wrapped around his cock—are like natural adornment. His body was tailored by the gods.

He steps outside to the hall, and I follow him. There, I find a young male who certainly has no qualms about showing off. His robe is simple, but heavy gold chains dangle from his neck, and even his eyebrows are painted in gold powder. The topdwellers often use makeup to mark their rank.

"This is Tyr'ash of House Cairah. His father is the head of the House."

I learned about his House, which is part of the House of Akron. They've been allies for centuries.

"It's an honor," I greet him, resisting the urge to bow my head.

Mael told me it was inappropriate for concubines to bow to anyone but members of House Arkon. And that I can only bend my knees for the Xor. I follow her rules, no matter how convoluted they can get.

"The honor is all mine," says the young man. He extends a hand behind him, and a servant comes rushing, passing a coral wrapped in a mesh-like material.

"Please accept this engagement gift on behalf of my House."

I glance at the Xor nervously as I reach out, trying to read his expression.

"This is wonderful," I say. "You really didn't have to."

Something flashes in his eyes as he grins at me. "I heard you were a lowly harvester before being rescued from your…humble livelihood. Who knows? You might have harvested this one yourself?" he laughs. 

He laughs at me. And then I realize that this beautiful gift was meant to be a weapon to hurt me.

"Ceryn," comes the Xor's rumbling voice. "Give the man your gratitude. Don't just stand there mutely."

It's then that I realize that I let my guard down. I frowned and revealed my hurt to this topdweller whose wide eyes reveal he's enjoying every second of his humiliating exchange.

"I…thank you for the gift. I will treasure it," I whisper.

"You may return to your studies," huffs the king. Angry at me for displaying weakness. For not being able to keep up with the cynical interaction.

I lower my head as I enter the library, the coral heavy in my hands. I want to drop it so it shatters. I want to sob.

"There, there," says Mael, shutting the door and patting my back.

Tears burn in my waterline, but I cling to them. I don't release. 

Mael's touch surprises me. She has never cared to get this close.

"Good," she says. "You're not crying. You're learning one of the lessons I cannot teach you because they must be learned from experience: this palace is bloodthirsty, and you must never feed the beasts because they will come for more."

***

Once Mael wraps up our lecture, she escorts me back to the king's chambers.

On the way there, we're both shocked to see Tyr'ashak–the young male who gifted me the coral–with a red, wrinkled, swollen cheek. There's something imprinted on his skin. A pattern I've seen many times before. The pattern of a coral. It's as if he face-planted onto one.

Or if someone rammed the coral into his face.

His eyes meet mine, and fear fills them.

I suddenly get my answer.

The Xor took his insulting gift and slammed it into his face so the entire world could see his generosity.

READ PART 11>