The King's Cursed Bride

Tested

"And I love you as well." Even if, one day, she didn't love him back. The thought both chilled and warmed her.

She stepped out of the tent.

Zorelle stood in front of her, arrogance practically wafting from her person. "Still planning to take your husband and run away?"

Carissa clenched her jaw but shook her head. "No. Where Elon stays, I stay." Carissa stepped forward, so she looked down on the Reaper. "And when he goes, so shall I."

Zorelle offered her a fanged smile. "We shall see. Now that he's persuaded you to remain, I hope you'll allow Itam to escort you back to your tent." She gestured to a nearby Reaper. "And I trust you won't need to be bound this time." She pivoted on her heel and strode away, leaving her in the charge of the Reaper.

The Reaper gestured for Carissa to follow and wove his way around the tents.

Carissa jogged to keep up with his long strides. They stopped before the tent she'd been in earlier, where she'd semi-captured the servant girl. Hopefully, they'd replaced her with another girl, or else—

Carissa entered into the tent after the Reaper, only to slow once she saw the servant girl.

The girl's eyes flared wide with anger. "You."

Carissa offered her a tiny wave.

The girl's gaze snapped to the new Reaper. "I refuse to dress her in anything but pig's skin. She came in here and—"

"Then you must answer to Zorelle for the Queen's ill-suited attire."

The defiance seeped out of her, her shoulders sagging. "Very well."

The Reaper nodded once before leaving the tent.

Carissa's gaze met the girl's, and they stood there for a moment.

Carissa cleared her throat. "About earlier—"

The girl held up her hand. "Don't. I don't want to hear it." Then she tossed a wary glance over her shoulder before searching through the chest.

Carissa seated herself on the stool, and the wood creaked beneath her.

The girl whipped around, a fork and a spoon in each hand.

Carissa arched her brows. "Where did you get those?"

The girl lowered her makeshift weapons after a moment. "You're not going to get the jump on me this time. I'm going to be watching you—every flick of your gaze, each rise and fall of your chest. And if you even think"—she jabbed the fork for emphasis—"about attacking me, I will retaliate, regardless of your noble status."

Carissa sighed and nodded. She'd officially ruined any chances she'd had at making the girl an ally.

The girl huffed and turned to rifle through the chest. After a moment, she emerged with a long black dress. "Put this on." She tossed it at Carissa.

It was impractical for escape... but it didn't look as though she'd be escaping anytime soon anyhow. Carissa removed her servant disguise beneath the girl's watchful eye and tugged on the dress.

Then the girl combed out Carissa's hair, being none too gentle about it. She withdrew a stick of black from her pocket and ringed Carissa's eyes with the makeup. Carissa's stomach coiled at the sight. She'd only worn that makeup back in Zonah—it brought her back to the night Akasha caked it on her.

The girl clapped her hands in front of Carissa's face, startling her back to reality. "Don't you be passing out on me."

Carissa glanced down at the dress. "What is all of this for?"

The girl ignored her question and shouted, "We've finished!"

The Reaper entered the tent. He glanced at Carissa and nodded once. "You're ready."

Carissa rose. "Ready for—"

The Reaper left.

Not only dramatic but mysterious too. Carissa huffed and hurried after him. He moved towards the center of the camp, a few servants pausing to allow him to pass first or darting around him. The Reaper stopped before a large tent, even bigger than the one she and Elon had been held in. He stood aside.

Apparently, she was supposed to enter by herself.

Carissa pushed aside the thick, velvety fabric. The material was nicer than that of most the other tents. Immediately, she was hit by a wave of savory smells. The room was so brightly lit she had to squint. A long table was adorned with food—glistening slabs of meat, mounds of fruit, white slices of bread. Servants lined the walls, armed with pitchers, bowls of water, and more platters.

Zorelle was seated at the head of the table. She rose, her white hair and black cloak streaming down her figure. "Welcome, Carissa."

And so the test began.
***

Author's Note: Happy Halloween! No sneak peek this time, but I did include a picture of me in my dinosaur costume, so that's got to count for something, right? I actually walked around campus all day dressed like that 😊 It's an experience I highly recommend.