Chapter 2 - Perfect For Him
Ismena's heart skipped a beat, feeling a painful tug the moment she stepped into the hall.
Her breath hitched.
Then it was gone just as quickly.
She let out a heavy breath, confusion in her veins.
What was that?
"There she is. My beautiful Queen!" The King declared, reaching for her hand as she forced a smile to her face.
Nothing.
She blinked her confusion away.
It was nothing. She was just really agitated to see him again.
The hall was filled with loud music—Harps, drums, songs, claps, and anything else that accompanied and enriched it. The air smelled of alcohol and roasted beef. Laughter and different voices filtered through the space.
The King pulled her closer, his breath sharp with whisky, his brown eyes glimmering with hazy drunkenness.
"My Ismena." He pressed a kiss to her neck, his short beard prickling her skin.
She fought for her body not to go rigid in his arms, but instead for her hands to move over his shoulders, and for her body to lean into his touch.
"I returned only for you. The thoughts of dying and leaving you behind for another drove me mad." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper as he breathed in her fragrance.
Rosewater, honey and orange blossom.
Perfect.
"I couldn't let that happen."
The knights around them laughed, confirming with their words that the King had only ever thought of her. That he had almost died but for his strong conviction to return to her.
Almost?
He should have.
He should have died.
"Oh your Majesty, you have no idea." A Knight began to say. "The King brought back more than victory—"
A jab to the stomach, delivered by the King's Second, forced him to abrupt silence.
Awkwardness lingered in the air.
Heavy.
Ismena felt that tug again, this time, with a trickling of dread down her spine.
What was going on?!
"I spent every second praying to the goddess of the Sun for your safe return, my Love." The words slipped past her lips, infused with practised genuineness, and an insane need to regain control of what was happening. He pulled away, and looked right at her. "I would rather fall upon a blade than be given to another."
His gaze intensified, as if he was searching her soul for something. Ismena stilled in his arms and all she could hear was the quickened racing of her heart.
The men around them spoke again, singing praises of how perfect they were, of how much an impeccable image of love they represented, of how they wished their wives were like Ismena, of how they prayed to be more like the King.
"My wife is hungry," he said, pressing a kiss to her forehead and turning to the men. "Do forgive us, we have to part from you now."
The men bowed with a smile, and as they departed from the circle, her handmaidens departed from her too.
While they headed up the stairs, Ismena could feel many eyes on her, as it always was… though now she felt that dread thicken in her spine.
She looked around sharply, but saw nothing amiss.
This was ridiculous!
She gritted her teeth, shaking the feeling away and trying to force herself to play her role.
They finally stopped when they got to the private section right in the middle of the long balcony. There were guards on either side of the structure. It was decorated with expensive black silk curtains, which concealed the open front.
The King pulled the curtain aside, and Ismena suppressed her fear and went in. He followed, pulling back the covers behind them.
Trapped.
Now, all she could think of was the King.
The music instantly dissolved into the background. The air seemed to go still and when he sat next to her on the red velvet cushion, his warmth spilled into her lungs and her body waited in dreaded anticipation.
Inevitable.
His hand pulled back the plentisome layers that made up her red skirt.
Slowly.
She could feel the trail of the air over her exposed skin. She watched, waiting, as the fabric sank lower and lower and lower.
Till the molten gold skin of her thigh came to light, then he stopped. He rested his hand there, and the warmth that seeped in through her pores dragged in with repulsion.
But she didn't flinch. She couldn't afford to.
She looked up at him instead, because his gaze demanded it.
"You prayed every second?" His voice was low with accusation. His eyes were still hazy, but now there seemed to be sparks of something else in there. Sparks of madness, of rage.
She gulped, every trace of her smile vanishing.
"I prayed—-"
"For me to return?"
"Of course, your Majesty—"
"Maybe you did pray." His grip around her thigh tightened, and he leaned in so their breath mingled. "But it is a question of what you prayed for. Tell me, my darling Ismena," his voice dropped into a dangerous whisper. "Did you pray for the night monsters to rip me apart? For me to rot on their fields? Or for them to skin me alive like the monsters that they are?" He fell quiet and a second passed between them. "Did you pray that I would never return?"
"No! By the Sun! I would never do such a thing!" Her hands cupped his face with urgency. A risk. She moved so close to him that only a hair's breadth was between them. "You are my husband," the next words she said were against his lips. "What kind of wife would wish for her husband's death?"
She did not move further, she did not pull back. He had to be the one to do it.
And he did.
His lips possessed hers. Rough. His hands moved up her thigh while the other felt her through her dress.
She gave in to everything, knowing that now she was on a knife's edge. She allowed a soft moan to slip through her lips and muffle against his. She allowed her hand to roam around his shirt but never slipped into it like his hands were doing to her. She allowed her body to move to the rhythm of his touch. And when he pushed her back to lay on the cushion, she did not fight him.
Everything was a war for the King, even this. Everything was something for him to conquer.
So his teeth drew blood from her lips and when he pulled away from kissing her, his teeth drew maps of passion around her neck.
She silenced the pain in her lungs and allowed her rough pants to fill the private section instead. She needed air anyway.
With his body still pressed against hers, he stopped. His warm breath, mingled with whisky, washed over her face. Now he was smiling. The madness was gone. The rage had vanished.
It was safe again.
He pressed a kiss against her neck languishingly, pulling down her skirt so her skin wasn't as exposed anymore.
Then for a moment while he looked down at her, he looked sober. "I almost died, Ismena. A night creature, none like I have ever seen, almost killed me."
"No creature can kill you, your Majesty."
He grabbed her hand and guided it so that her fingers moved into his shirt, along his neck, down to his chest - only to the extent where his garmet could permit.
She flinched.
The gashes she could feel were wide and a cut at that part of his neck must have caused him a near-death experience. She could feel the zigzag of the threads that had been used to stitch him back.
Tears welled up in her eyes and she couldn't even tell why.
"My King—"
"He almost killed me." There was rage in his eyes again but this time it wasn't directed at her. He sat up, pulling her along with him. "But you are right. No creature can kill me. That is why I brought him home to teach him a lesson."
He tugged onto something connected to the curtains, and the fabric pulled apart.
The King rose and her eyes followed him.
"BRING OUT MY PRISONER!" He declared to the warriors downstairs then retreated to the cushion and sat beside her.
The warriors got into action immediately. The centre of the hall was cleared up and the floor began to tremble as the bricks slowly drew apart.
The pounding of Ismena's heart filled her ears, the air felt stifling and something in her stomach tightened with heavy knots.
Anticipation?
It almost surged in her veins. It almost made her feel alive.
He had brought more than victory…
Well, she wanted to see what that 'more' was.
She wanted to see him. She wanted to see this creature that had almost brought her dreams to reality.
What kind of creature was he?
What made him different from the rest of the night creatures the King had been killing for years now?
But then, that feeling rushed through her again.
Dread spread through her entire back. Her chest constrained painfully, and her blood turned into ice in her veins.
Then it crashed on her all at once.
No.
NO!
By the Sun, what had the King brought back?!