Chapter 14: Chapter 14: The Distractions of a King

Amera and I fall quickly into a familiar routine. I eat my breakfast in my room and then amuse myself most mornings, and when she is done, she either knocks for me or we meet in the gardens, or menagerie if it is raining.

Living here, in this place, almost feels normal, as if I’ve been here a long time, though truth be told it’s barely been three weeks since I arrived.

And I am content.

King Helos makes sure my salt is refilled regularly, and my guards are starting to at least learn my idiosyncrasies even if they don’t understand them.

My new dresses also help. I feel less constricted, less claustrophobic, and my movements feel freer. When I run down the stairs, I can almost imagine I am swimming.

Only I’m not.

The one thing I don’t have, the one thing I yearn for, is open water. Real open water.

I want to swim, dive, and truly submerge myself, and the creature in me calls for it more and more in my head.

Our daily baths help. The salts help. But nothing compares to the real thing. Nothing comes close to it, and day by day, the hunger inside me grows to something that throbs almost incessantly, and I feel the ache of it each night.

King Helos keeps his distance. I see him rarely, in passing, and each time his presence has the same effect. I am overwhelmed with fear and confusion, and the creature in me stirs with feelings of something else entirely.

Amera’s wedding is coming up. She doesn’t seem sad or even slightly hesitant.

She wants this, I realize. She wants this future that Helos has arranged for her, and I wonder what he gets out of the deal.

She is huffing beside me in her rooms. The dressmaker is there and she has already gone through the samples twice.

“None of these are what I want,” she states.

“What did you want?” I ask.

“I don’t know exactly, but I always imagined something clinging, something that hugs my hips and comes down tight before pooling out. None of these would do that,” she replies and the dressmaker nods.

“So, what fabric would?” I ask both her and the woman standing before us.

“You’d need something stiffer, more structured,” the woman says.

“Do you have anything like that?” Amera asks.

“I have some that might work,” she muses. “I can get samples to you in a few days.”

“A few days? My wedding is in a month,” Amera snaps.

“There’s enough time,” I say and she sighs.

“I can do it,” the dressmaker assures her.

“Fine,” Amera mutters.

“Let’s take a walk, get some fresh air,” I say, and she nods.

We’ve been cooped up in her rooms for hours now, and it feels like we might be going cross-eyed from all the fabrics in front of us.

We walk out of the room, and my guards spring up from their positions.

“Where are we going?” the lead guard asks.

“The gardens,” Amera says, and they nod.

They’ve grown used to her, and if anything, I think they feel more at ease when she is with me, as though she provides some sort of buffer against the intensity of my nature.

We spend a good few hours in the garden as Amera chats away, happy. I can’t help but smile at how everything has turned out for her.

From where we were, from those awful cages, to be here, to be beside her, and for us to actually be friends. It makes my heart soar.

Am I at peace? I think I am as close to it as I could ever be. The only thing that would make my life better would be being let out, truly let out, to open water, a river…anything.

I’ve never had a friend. Not really. Even when my hair was dyed and my true nature disguised, people could sense what I was, that I was different, and often that was enough for them to not be friendly.

As the sun starts setting, we part ways, and Amera rushes off to find Brandar. I turn, making my way back through the castle and up toward my rooms.

Only I’m not paying attention, not properly, and halfway up a flight of stairs, I decide to grab a book from the library.

I spin on my heel, making a cut through that I’ve only just learned about, and the guards follow behind. No one is around; this part of the castle is so deserted that there is little threat to me.

But as I turn the corner and walk into the library, I freeze in shock.

Ahead is Helos, his impressive body leaned over a table, with a woman lying flat back on top of it, her legs wrapped around him. He groans as he thrusts into her and she moans.

I gasp, silently stepping back but unable to look away, and his eyes meet mine.

He is staring at me now, his amber eyes filled with lust and pleasure, and I can’t look away.

He doesn’t stop.

He keeps thrusting over and over, but his focus is on me. I can’t help it. I’m transfixed by his gaze and, as the woman’s moans get louder, the spell is broken, and I run.

I flee the room, the corridor.

I run all the way back up the stairs, back to my own suite, not caring if the guards are following. I shut the doors and curl myself up on the window seat in the alcove of the sitting room.

My heart is pounding in my chest, my blood pumping fast. The creature in me is awake; she is writhing, screaming.

She wants to take control, to run, to find the king, to devour him, and as I struggle to keep her in check, I see his face again, over and over, and more than that I see the look in his eyes as he stares back at me.

I don’t even know why I feel like I do, but I feel hurt, though I have no cause to be.

Helos is not mine.

He has no interest in me—he has made that abundantly clear, and I have none in him, and yet, right now, it feels like he has betrayed me. Like he has taken a knife and driven it through my heart.

I sit here for so long that the evening light fades from the room around me and the only illumination is the moon now bright in the sky.

I hear my door open and I frown. I don’t need to look to know who it is. I can feel his aura, his presence, from across the room.

He pauses, watching me curiously, though I stay where I am, deliberately not looking back at him.

“Why are you sitting in the dark?” he asks.

I don’t answer. I have no words. Just anger, unfounded, confusing anger.

He crosses the room and my breath hitches as he sits across from me, reaching to turn my face from the darkness outside, forcing me to meet his gaze.

My skin reacts instantly and I desperately try to ignore it.

“I can smell her on you,” I say before I can stop myself.

“Does it bother you so much, Kera?” he murmurs.

I scowl at him. At the intimacy of his words. At the fact that he’s saying my name. I scowl at the thought of him touching me after touching someone else only hours ago.

He smirks slightly, running his eyes over me. “Where did you get that dress from?” he asks.

I glance down, pulling my face from his fingers. I’m wearing one of Amera’s. It’s white, simple, with a neckline that scoops low enough to show some cleavage without being obscene. It is nothing like the ones he has provided.

“Amera,” I reply, though I don’t even know why he’s asking.

He grunts. “I think I preferred the old ones.”

I narrow my eyes. “What?”

“I chose them especially because they were…” He pauses and somehow I know what he’s going to say. “Covering.”

My stomach twists at that. From a distance, he acts like he wants to protect me, and yet, up close, he’s just like everyone else. Because I can see it in his eyes.

No matter how much he’s trying to pretend that I don’t affect him, that lust is lurking there.

“What do you want from me?” I ask. I don’t just mean now, though. I mean all of it.

“I told you before. I am still deciding,” he says.

I huff before pushing past him. I don’t want to see him right now. I don’t want to be near him. His words confuse me, his actions confuse me, and his very essence sends me over the edge.

He grabs my arm and I flail before striking him across the face. And then I gasp as I realize what I’ve done. He is a king. I have no right to even touch him without permission, but to strike him, to cause him actual harm…

His eyes glow dangerously and his grip tightens. “You know what you’ve just done amounts to treason,” he states.

I shut my eyes, trembling now. “Go ahead,” I say quietly. “Execute me then. Get it over with.”

He frowns, though I don’t see it.

“Look at me,” he orders, and I open my eyes, staring right back at him. My breath is coming so fast that I feel like I’m lost once more in those amber eyes of his.

He stares at me, but he doesn’t speak, and I wonder again what the hell this man wants. I have been here almost three weeks now, locked in his castle, safe, as safe as I can be.

This man has raised his army to get me, to bring me here, and now he ignores me entirely.

“Who is that woman?” I ask suddenly. I don’t even know why. I don’t want to know who she is. I don’t care.

“She is nobody of consequence,” he says.

I scoff. “It certainly didn’t look like that.”

He shrugs. “We all have needs.”

I turn my face up, looking away from him. I can smell what needs his body had. I can smell her on him; it lingers. The scent of lavender and some other more delicate flower.

“Even you have needs,” he says, and I feel my body react to his words. The creature in me stirs. She wants to be let out, to show this king exactly what her needs are. But I don’t let her.

I shake my head. “What do you know of my needs?” I say almost angrily.

“Remember the carriage,” he murmurs, and I can’t help but remember.

I remember the feeling of my fingers on myself as he stared at me. I remember the release, the need that’d driven me to it. My desperate, delirious dreams of the ocean, and my arousal too as it flowed between my thighs.

I can feel it now. My wetness, my arousal in this moment. It is subtle, but it is there. I don’t know if he can smell it, but I hope not.

If this king were to do anything right now, I don’t think I could fight him despite everything I have done to strengthen my resolve.

“What are your needs?” he asks, pulling me into him, and I gasp as I feel his hard body press against mine and his hands grip my hips possessively.

I shake my head. I don’t want to say it. To admit it. To give away another piece of myself.

“Tell me, Kera,” he says more urgently.

“What does it matter? You won’t grant it,” I whisper.

“Tell me and perhaps I will.”

“The sea,” I gasp, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Open water, anything beyond just a bath.”

He sighs and his grip loosens a little. “I cannot give you that,” he says with sadness, regret, but I know I’m imagining it.

I feel my body slump. In this moment, it feels like what he is saying is that I will never have this. I will never be free, never feel the waves against my skin, never feel ~any~ of it.

I will be caged in this human world forever.

“You want it so much?” he asks curiously.

“You don’t understand,” I say. “What it feels like, what it is to swim, to be free. To feel the water on my skin, taste the salt in bones.”

“The salt you have is not enough?” he asks.

“No,” I reply quietly.

It is true. It sustains me, it keeps me alive, and I gain a certain level of pleasure from it, but it is like comparing the light of a candle to the sun.

“I can’t give you that, Kera. It would not be safe for you, and in truth, I do not trust you not to escape,” he admits.

I nod. I know what he says makes sense in his own head, but to me, it is a cruel thing he is doing nonetheless.

“Perhaps I can give you something else though, something to distract you?” he states.

“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

My defenses are up now. He doesn’t trust me; he’s admitted it, and now that he won’t give me the one thing I desire more than anything else, I don’t trust him either.

“An escape, from these walls, from this castle,” he replies.

“What?” I frown, not understanding what he is suggesting.

“Would you like that? An adventure?” he asks.

“What are you saying?”

“I can take you into the city, show you more than just this stone,” he states.

My eyes widen because I can’t believe he is offering this.

“When?” I ask quickly, before he changes his mind, before he decides it is too much of a risk or I am too untrustworthy.

“Now.”

My jaw drops.

He laughs at my reaction. “I take it as a yes.”

“Yes,” I gasp, and then I glance outside. “Wait, isn’t it too late to be taking me out?”

“It will be safer for you at night,” he replies, glancing at my hair, and we both know what he is implying. My body makes me stand out enough, but my hair marks me for what I truly am.

“Okay,” I agree. I want to go. Wherever this man is taking me right now, I am willing to follow him there.

“Wait here. I’ll be back in a moment,” he says, taking his hands from my hips and then walking to the door.

I watch him, frowning, and then once he shuts the door, I rush to the dressing room. I braid my hair as quickly as I can and wrap it into a bun. I need it to be as hidden as possible.

When I look for a cloak, there are none. Helos hasn’t given me any.

I walk back into the sitting room and wait for him, and it feels like he is gone too long.

I start to wonder if he is even coming back, if this is just another level of manipulation in the game he is playing, but then the door opens and he walks in.

He pauses when he sees my hair. It’s the first time I’ve put it up, styled it, done anything with it. I can feel myself blushing, and I hope to the gods that the lack of light in the room is concealing it from him.

He has a cloak in his arms for me, and he wraps it around my shoulders before pulling the hood up.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

He throws his own cloak over his shoulders and takes my hand. I try desperately to ignore the spark that rushes through me at the feeling of this man, this king’s skin against mine. But my breath still catches anyway.

Does he notice it? Does he see? I glance sideways at him, and if he does notice, he is hiding it from me.

His body is so much bigger than mine. His muscles, his build, all of him. He towers over me and I barely come up to the start of his biceps.

The gods designed my kind to be curvaceous where most needed and lithe in all other ways. My legs are long, slender, and I am tall enough for a woman, but compared to him, compared to the stature of Helos, I feel tiny.

As he leads me down through the castle, I realize there are no guards, no one following. It’s just me and him and the shadows of the night around us.

Something about it feels illicit, forbidden, and before I know I am doing it, I tuck myself further into his body.

His muscles tense slightly, as if he is unsure how to react, and again I glance at him. This time, he looks back, and I see that familiar glow in his eyes.

But then he looks ahead and whatever it is is over.

We walk further down, and I don’t recognize where we are. He has taken me past the castle I know, past the rooms, the corridors. This new section is a mystery.

I can see a door ahead, and as the guards open it for the king, he pauses. He turns to look at me, and for a moment, I think this really is a trick. Some new way he has decided to torment me.

He holds my hand out so my wrist is exposed, and with his other hand, he holds up what looks like a pair of golden cuffs.

I frown, staring at them, and then at him.

“It’s for your security as well as mine,” he says.

“You want me to be cuffed?” I gasp.

“You will be cuffed to me,” he says.

I gulp, pulling my wrist back and holding it with my other hand. Do I want this? To be literally tied to this man, to be completely at his mercy if he does decide to do something.

I open my mouth to argue. Suddenly, the prospect of an adventure is not appealing. A part of me wants to run, to pick up my skirts and not look back.

“Why do you hesitate?” he asks quietly.

There are guards close enough to hear and I glance at them before looking at Helos.

“If you cuff me, I cannot escape you—”

“That’s the point, Kera. I don’t want you making any escape attempts,” he says like I’m an idiot.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, looking down, ashamed. “If you would want to hurt me, if you would want to….” I trail off because I don’t want to say my fears out loud.

Yes, there is a part of me that wants him, that would absolutely rip his clothes off and devour him, but it is not all of me.

And I know if I choose that route, if I let this king claim me, then the consequences could lead to something disastrous. Something cataclysmic.

He lets out a low breath as if he understands. “If I promise not to touch you…”

I look back at him, trying to see if he is sincere. He feels sincere, but in truth, I cannot read this man and I do not trust my own instincts around him either.

“…and not to hurt me,” I say quietly.

“I won’t, Kera,” he replies.

I shut my eyes. I have to make a decision. Do I trust this man or not?

He hasn’t done anything to harm me so far. He has in many ways been kind to me, but it could all be a ruse, an elaborate plan to fool me.

I don’t know what to do. If I go, if I do this, not only will I have a little joy but potentially I might be able to show him that I can be trusted, that I won’t run, and maybe, just maybe he might take me to the sea.

Before I know what I’m doing, I hold my wrist up, and as the cold metal clasps around it, I open my eyes and stare up at Helos. I know I have fear in them, panic too, and I know he can see it.

He takes the other cuff and clicks it around his own wrist. His end is so much bigger than mine. I bite my lip, staring at where we are now connected.

His cuffed hand takes hold of mine again, and then he leads me out, into the courtyard, through a gate, and over a small drawbridge, toward the sprawling city beyond.