Chapter 43
Nerissea and I lay upon the garden path, side by side, our inner fingers loosely interlaced. Her gaze lingered upon the vast whiteness above us, while mine remained fixed upon her face. The white birds above soared in lazy circles, chirping as though the world were untouched by sorrow. A dainty white tortoise wandered past us, pausing to glance at her before continuing on its slow path.
"It was enchanted to preserve my body in a state of untouched purity, no matter how often I am taken" she continued. "And should I fail to lie with the woman named Yseldra Valebrinth within a fixed span of days… my heart begins to burn painfully. The late King fashioned me into a plaything for his daughter's pleasure, a living bond to ensure she should never find herself alone."
My heart clenched. This was cruelty beyond reckoning. To be bound in servitude was already a grave burden. But this… this was suffering stitched into the soul.
"Is that why you find yourself unable to refuse Her Majesty?"
"Yes. Each time she takes me, the pain departs entirely."
I propped myself on one elbow and looked into her eyes. They showed no visible sadness. And yet, I knew she was deeply wounded by all that had been done to her. She simply no longer wept. That pain had long dried within her.
"Though the pain fades after she lies with you…" I said, "the process itself must hurt every time."
The thought of Nerissea enduring such torment, not merely once but endlessly, wounded me. She had suffered so much, for so long, and there remained countless years ahead of her. My chest burned with anguish. And if I, who merely heard it, felt such torment, then what must she feel who lives it? Her sorrow must be a hundred times my own.
She lifted her hand and cupped my cheek. "It does not hurt that badly, Naevia."
"Liar," I whispered.
"Truly. There was naught the young princess could do to undo the enchantments placed upon me at the time. So she compelled the very same alchemist to craft a potion that might ease my torment. The most he could manage was to dull it. It softens the burning in my chest and lessens the pain when she touches me. The draught is mixed into my soup each week, always on the same day and at the same hour. Six in the evening. But the pain never fully vanishes… not unless she takes me."
Oh, Nerissea…
I laid my head upon her chest. Her tragedy was heavier than Queen Yseldra's harshness toward me. Far heavier.
---
When we returned to the main building, Nerissea pinched the side of my cloak and gave it a small tug. "I must go see Aenira. She will have something to make the marks upon me vanish. I imagine Queen Yseldra shall be vexed should she see them."
"No," I replied with certainty. "I do not intend to conceal what I did to you before her, or before any other."
She bestowed upon me a delicate smile. "We. What we did, together."
At her words, my soul seemed to melt. I turned toward her and leaned in, placing a kiss upon her lips for I could not help myself. The gesture drew a few glances from the passing maids. One whispered to another, and that one hurried off, doubtless to report to Queen Yseldra. Yet I found myself uncaring.
In truth, from the very moment my lips met Nerissea's, I could no longer say with certainty what I felt for Queen Yseldra. But I knew with unwavering clarity that Nerissea had become the balm to my wounded heart.
As we continued our walk through the corridor, our earlier conversation returned to me. Something within it made no sense.
"Nerissea," I lowered my voice, for staff and slaves lingered nearby. "You told me that the potion dulls the pain you feel during intimacy. Yet every time you return from the Duchess's chambers, you are in agony. The Duchess does something to you, does she not? I had asked this before when we journeyed to the palace, but you did not answer. May I ask again? I am most concerned."
"The Duchess exceeds what the potion can bear."
I fell silent. There was nothing I could say to that. Nothing I could do. I could offer her no rescue, only comfort.
---
"Her Majesty requests your presence in Nerissea's bedchamber," a maid said, bowing her head toward me.
The other maids around me moved with quiet efficiency, clearing away the remnants of my evening meal. Once their task was complete, they filed out of my chamber.
This summons most likely concerned Nerissea and me. Yet I felt no fear. Anxiety did not stir within me. I would speak plainly. I understood well that Nerissea would forever remain bound to Her Majesty, but that did not mean she and I could not belong to one another in our own way.
When I arrived, Nerissea was already asleep. It was always so on this particular day of the week. Each time she took her evening soup, drowsiness claimed her not long after. I had once asked her why, and she merely smiled. But now I understood. The potion. Drowsiness must be one of its side effects.
Queen Yseldra sat reclined against the headboard beside her. One hand held an open book, while the other clasped Nerissea's.
"I suppose your love for me has withered," Her Majesty remarked with casual ease.
"I am… uncertain of what I feel for you now, Your Majesty," I confessed quietly.
"How very unfortunate," she said with a soft laugh, setting her book aside. "I suppose that means you no longer care to display your cunt before the staff?"
"Your Majesty…" I could hear myself, the way my voice was coated with sorrow.
Nerissea had begun to mend me, yet Her Majesty's words stepped upon those fragile pieces. To say that I no longer loved her would be a falsehood. Clearly, her words still held power enough to wound me. Somehow, she always found the softest place to strike. And yet, to claim that I loved her wholly as I once did… it was a most perplexing feeling as though my heart itself could not decide where it wished to belong.
Her Majesty let out a soft chuckle, obviously entertained by the power she still wielded over me. Then she released Nerissea's hand and stood from the bedside, lifting the familiar vial from the nightstand.
And I… I moved to her. I did not understand myself. I knew not why. Was it habit? I could not say.
She removed the lid, and I knelt before her. I opened my mouth, allowing her to pour the liquid down my throat.
"Not a single drop must be spared," she murmured above me.
I gagged. The potion was most foul like last time. But I forced myself to take all of it, though my body shook with the effort. When it was done, I collapsed to the floor, pressing my hands over my mouth, struggling to keep the contents from rising as she bent down, leveling her face with mine, smiling sweetly.
"Is it truly so dreadful, Naevia?"
The sickness overwhelmed me, and I vomited onto her face.