The King's Cursed Bride

Shipwrecked

She stepped out of the door. Then she stepped down the first step. And the second. She was so intent on placing one quivering leg in front of the other she didn't notice the sounds of clanging armor and marching steps until they were almost upon her. She glanced up.

At least two-dozen knights were striding towards Iver. Perhaps because they had a night off? Then why did they march in formation?

A cold shudder ran through her, but she ignored it and continued her descent. She avoided eye contact with the men as she walked across the street.

"Is that a nightwoman?"

Surely they weren't talking about her.

"Seize her and bring her to me."

She glanced up, and a few choice words flew through her head. One of the knights was indeed approaching her, his expression as cold and unyielding as his breastplate.

With no other options left, she ran, though it was more of a speedy stumble interrupted with bouts of tripping. A half second later, a steely arm crushed her waist.

She loosed a scream, its jagged edges rough against her throat. It was more a cry of pain than a call for help, but the knight clamped a hand to her mouth. Though his arm around her waist caused waves of pain to lap away at her consciousness, at least his fingers weren't digging into her burn.

She shoved down the gush of pain long enough to wonder when they'd started arresting nightwomen in the streets like common thieves. The knight dragged her inside, trailing behind the others.

The man in charge straightened and smoothed his wispy smear of bone-white hair. "Men, clear the area, and bring all of the nightwomen here. And where's Akar? We'll need him here as well." He flicked his fingers at three men. "Akar is a rather large man. All three of you will need to work together to... summon him."

What was happening? Carissa's gaze wandered the room. Cold pierced her sternum, like a lightning bolt of ice crashing against her chest.

Where was Akasha?

Carissa didn't know how or why, but she suspected this was linked to Akasha's threat. After a stampede of men scurried out of the nighthouse and the shrieking nightwomen had been rounded up in a circle, Akar was finally dragged into the room, his face contorted in a snarl. One knight held his bound wrists, and the other two held him at sword point.

The man with white hair clapped his hands and scrubbed them together. "Well, well, well. Now what charges should I begin with?"

He opened his thin lips to continue, but a knight marched forward, dragging Elisa behind him. "My lord. I found this on her person." He handed a crumpled piece of paper and a coin to the man.

The white-haired man smoothed the piece of paper and chuckled. "Well, well, well, indeed." That seemed to be a favorite phrase of his. "To His Highness, King Elon..."

Carissa cringed as she recognized the opening of her letter.

"I'm at Iver. If you come for me, I promise to be your bride. If you'll still have me." The room fell deathly quiet before the man exploded in a bout of chuckles, which echoed sharply around the empty room. A few of his men joined in.

Carissa's chest heaved as she stared at the note. A deep regret sank into her bones, and it felt like someone had left a cannonball in her chest. Hearing it aloud, the letter did sound presumptuous. And who was she to assume she was even remotely desirable?

The white-haired man cleared his throat, his chuckles finally fading. "Now, who is this Carissa?"

Her blood turned to frosty slush. As her heart forced it through her body, the shards of ice seemed to scrap against her veins.

A nightwoman from the crowd glanced up. Carissa recognized her as one of the women who'd been there after her night with Akar. Her gaze settled on Carissa.

No. Please no.

Her finger rose to point at Carissa, and her lips parted. "She is Carissa."

The white-haired man pivoted towards Carissa. With a sudden jerk, he ripped the veil from her face. He snorted. "If he'll have you indeed." He stepped back, allowing everyone else a view.

Carissa caught a few expressions—a crinkled nose, eyes tightened in a grimace, eyebrows arched—before she glanced down, and a curtain of black hair veiled her face from the world. She hadn't gazed at the burn in many days, but its image was branded into her mind: bulbous heat blisters of yellow liquid, pink flesh crumpled, dead white skin crinkled around the edges.

"What an amusing diversion, but," the man clapped twice, "let us begin. Akar Eban, you have been brought under several charges, but the only one I'm concerned with is tax evasion." Through the hair smothering Carissa's vision, he grinned. "I believe you owe the city 2,500 golden coins."

Akar actually blanched, his pale skin a sharp contrast with his otherwise dark coloring. "Lord Ekley, I know I owe money to the city, but this—"

"We also charged you a hefty fine for your actions. Can you pay this, Akar Eban?"

Akar scowled and yanked against his captor's hold. The other men pressed their swords against Akar's neck, and Akar stilled.

The man's smirk widened. "I thought not. You are sentenced to the dungeons for your debt. In addition, I will take charge of this lovely nighthouse, on behalf of the city of course." His gaze skimmed the women. "All of your are now in my employ, but before you continue to serve your regular patrons, I believe my men are in need of your services, don't you think?"

A few knights hurrahed.

The man continued, "But there are a few of you who are far too unsightly to be employed here any longer, and you should consider yourself discharged." He pointed to Carissa, "You," he pointed to a woman with shorn hair, "you, and," he pointed to a bony woman, "you. Knights, I'll need you to escort them to the jailhouse."

Carissa straightened. "What?!"

The man arched his snowy brows. "You protest?"

"I do." She briefly strained against her captor's arm, but settled after the first crash of pain. "We aren't property you can confiscate for a debt; we are people."

The man snorted. "Hardly. Think of this as an act of charity."

Heat burbled beneath her skin. "Charity?"

"Yes. I spare the world from a few more unsightly women, and as a result, a few more unsightly children. In addition, I'm sure the men in the jailhouse will be grateful." A smile curved his lips, as smooth and oily as butter. "Yes, I believe charity is the right word. Anyhow, the nightwomen here are listed as business assets—or property. And as such, I can very well do what I please. Now, enough talk." He fluttered his hand. "Men, take them away."

***

Author's Note: What's that, you say? You want to read the next part? My cliffhangers are killing you? Well, why didn't you just say so? 😜

For those of you who are going to die if you don't get to read more soon, I have a surprise for you! 🎉  I have a sneak peek of the beginning of the next chapter on my blog. Naturally, it'll be available here in a few days, so this is just to tide you lovely readers over until then.

The link will be at the top of my profile or embedded in this chapter, should you want it.