When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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Master Sirro's smooth fingers squeezed around my hand, while his other hand, curved around my waist, gently urged me into a tight spin as we changed directions again. My skirt flared from the movement, my hair swept over my shoulder to cascade down my back as we carried on dancing to the music.
I swallowed, knowing the answer, but still needing to ask. "There'd be a price to pay?"
The Horned God stopped us dancing once more. We stood in the middle of the floor while the elders spun and glided around us.
"There always is." His hand left my waist to cup my chin and tilt my face upward. Unbridled hunger shone in his eyes. I could practically feel him running his tongue over sharp teeth, licking his lips. "But I assure you, I'd make sure it was something you'd enjoy, something we'd both enjoy," he purred.
Sex. That's what he wanted from me. The price I'd pay—joining his harem.
Great white-tipped waves of nausea crashed over me, pushing me under.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think past the fear of what I'd signed. I let go of him, one hand pressing against my middle, the other clasped the base of my neck, as an acrid liquid burned up my throat. My lips quivered. "If you'll excuse me...I-I'm not feeling very well."
He hesitated a moment, his fingers curling a little tighter on my chin before he reluctantly released me. His hand dropped to his side as he politely inclined his head.
I backed away, stumbling as ice-kissed terror raked its talons across my skin.
Master Sirro's posture relaxed as he tucked his hand into the pocket of his pants. His tone was casual, but there was slyness gleaming in his golden eyes. "All you have to do is simply ask, anytime you seek freedom. But I'd do it soon, Nelle. In just a few weeks..." I'd turn twenty and it would be too late. "There's no escape from the Alverac once it's invoked."
The words clanged in my mind.
My skirt flared as I spun in my parents' direction. Both of them sat, side by side, behind the long white table on the raised platform, overseeing their court like we'd done centuries ago inside castles and fortresses.
I couldn't hide the panic that had twined itself around me, digging into my flesh with hooked thorns.
My father rose. My mother too.
They wouldn't have overheard what I'd spoken to Master Sirro about, but they'd be able to read the sickly paleness of my skin, the eyes wide and shining with fright.
I rubbed my clammy forehead with a shaking hand. The adamere beads jangled against one another, their sound much like a discordant peal of bells.
Gods, what did I agree to?
I turned in a whirl of silk and terror and fled. Everyone parted before me like a retreating wave. Their faces blended into the background and became fleeting glimpses of people I recognized as I fled toward the entrance of the marquee.
