The Next Day
Elon tugged on her corset laces. "Still too loose?"
Carissa nodded, keeping her hands planted on the vanity's edge, trying to control her breathing. She was beginning to second-guess her decision to break her fast with the nobles this morning, but it was a bit late to change plans. "Just a bit tighter. You could have the lady-in-waiting do this, you know."
He tied her laces. "I don't see why I should delegate the task to her when I'm just as capable."
"Because a lady-in-waiting's purpose is to wait on her lady."
"But a husband's purpose is to wait on his wife, and as your husband, I get priority." Carissa watched Elon in the mirror as he strode to their bed and studied the gown splayed across it, his hands on his hips.
She glanced at her own face and attempted a smile, but it withered before it could come into full bloom. Yesterday had been beyond humiliating, and no doubt rumors of her still ran rampant among the nobles. Now that she was queen, whatever she did was reflected onto Elon. When her behavior had shamed her mother, her mother had disowned her. Elon likely wouldn't do the same, but still... She wanted to make him proud.
Perhaps she could use breakfast as damage control for yesterday's fiasco.
Elon continued, "And besides, the more time I get to spend with you, the more training opportunities we have." He picked the gown up by its shoulders. "Now, do you step into this or do I slip it over? I can't decide."
Carissa turned. "Training?"
"Of course. We'll have combat training, naturally, but I promised you earlier I'd help you become more accustomed to my touch, didn't I?" He waggled his eyebrows, and she couldn't help but laugh. Though her knotting stomach didn't leave much room for an appetite, somehow he knew how to make her feel... lighter.
"Yes, you did. What do you have planned for our first lesson?"
Elon's smile was crooked—a half smirk edged with mischief. "I'm hoping playing as your nursemaid would help—"
"Nursemaid?"
"But that's only phase one of my plan, you see. For the second phase, I was thinking of something like foot play."
Her expression twisted. "Foot... play? Is that a ball kicking game?"
"Not quite." He peered down at the dress he held. "Pulling the dress over your head will take longer. Stepping into it seems the simplest route." He loosened the laces, until the back of the dress gaped wide open.
Carissa clutched Elon's shoulders for balance as she stepped into the dress. "Now I'm curious. What is it?"
He pulled the dress up her figure and helped her wriggle her arms into the sleeves. "The concept is quite simple. It only requires a man, a woman, and a table."
"Why a table?"
"It's supposed to be more fun to play underneath."
"Underneath? Are we to crawl under the table?" Elon's game sounded rather... strange.
"No. We nudge each other's feet." Elon finished tying the dress with a final tug.
He had to be joking. Carissa whirled to face him. His smirk seemed to be more flirtatious than teasing. "That's disgusting."
Laughter surged from Elon's lips, and he shook his head. "Perhaps."
"What do you mean 'perhaps'?"
"I've never personally tried it, so I wouldn't know. I once saw a man and a maiden doing it in a pub when I was younger, and my father explained the reason. Ever since then, I've been rather curious."
Carissa crinkled her nose. "It doesn't seem strange to you?"
"Perhaps a little, but I think it has the potential to be quite fun."
What a strange definition of 'fun.' She'd clearly have to talk to Elon about this later, because never would she participate in such strange behavior.
He pecked her scrunched nose. "I do believe I'll summon your lady-in-waiting now. Unfortunately, my skills don't yet extend to hair arrangement."
At least he hadn't tried to persuade her to leave her hair down again. Today, she was going to fully step into her role of queen—with its concomitant expectations and responsibilities. She set her hand on his forearm. "Will you wait for me?" She wasn't sure she could muster the courage to face the nobles alone. Although, Elon hadn't saved her from any embarrassment yesterday, though he could've easily done so. Carissa shoved her unease aside. This was Elon; he had his reasons. Didn't he?
Elon nodded. "Of course. I'll be waiting outside your door to escort you." With that, he turned and left to fetch her lady-in-waiting.
***
Carissa peered around the silver candelabra. "And what about you, Lady Skylia? Where do you hail from?"
"The distant islands of Odun. I'm sure you've never heard of them." The woman arched her eyebrows, her smile tight with haughtiness.
Carissa smoothed on her own smile. "I haven't, but I'd love to hear about them."
"Despite it's exotic location and colorful flora, I'm afraid the islands appear quite dismal this time of year."
"Oh?"
"Yes, our farming season is over, and with our coffers drained, the people are near starving." The woman's expression suddenly softened. "If someone would grant our islands some coin, I would ever be so grateful."
"Well, Lady Skylia, I'm certain—"
Elon's foot brushed hers—perhaps in warning? Was she doing something wrong? Was something amiss? She slid her gaze towards him, seated on her left, but he remained deep in conversation with an elderly man next to him. An accident, then.
Carissa nodded. "Thank you for telling me, Lady Skylia. I'll see if something can be done."
The man next to Lady Skylia cleared his throat. "I also have a petition, your majesty."
Warmth washed over her, and Carissa suppressed a smile as she leaned forward. At first the nobles had regarded her with wariness, as if they expected her to flip over a table or douse someone with her fairywing melon cider. But as she'd conversed, they seemed to thaw a bit towards her.
If only her mother could see her now, then she would've never said—
Carissa sliced the thought in two and tossed the pieces back into the recesses of her mind. With all that had happened, there hadn't been much time to think of her mother—not Marissa, but the woman who had raised her. And Carissa intended to keep it like that.
"And with the new roads being constructed, there are fewer men to guard the town. Perhaps volunteers could be gathered from nearby lands or even knights from the palace. What say you, your majesty?"
Carissa nodded. "I can see how that would be an issue, Lord—"
Elon's foot brushed hers again, but this time in a slower, more deliberate manner. He'd removed his boots, but his feet weren't entirely bare. He still wore his knee-high stockings. She recalled their foot play conversation from earlier than morn and suppressed a moan. Not here.
Carissa cleared her throat. "Forgive me, Lord Rimes. I was just saying—"
Elon drew the tip of his foot down the length of her shin before nudging the edge of her slipper.
By a Reaper's Scythe—he wasn't really going to try and take her shoes off, was he?
Carissa smiled thinly. "Seeing as the King has just returned—" Elon began wriggling her slipper off, and she twisted her foot away from him with a grunt. "—I'm sure he would be able to spare a few knights." Elon recaptured her foot, and she tried to yank it away from him. A second later, her slipper fell off her foot. Even through her stockings, the air felt cool on her toes.
"Your majesty, are you well?" Lord Rimes' eyebrows peaked with concern. And curiosity.
"Quite." Though Elon wouldn't be when she was through with him.
Though Elon never once turned towards her during the conversation, his foot prodded hers, as if asking if she were alright. Or if she would forgive him. Really, there was no way to tell.
Lord Rime adjusted his monocle. "Well, I would sincerely appreciate your efforts on my behalf, and if you could help with supplies for the road construction, that would be quite helpful. We've been planning to build this road for a long time, you see—"
Elon stroked the top of her foot with his, his touch almost light enough to tickle, and a rush of warmth distracted her from whatever the man was saying. What was wrong with her? It was just his feet—of all things. Why was she having such a strong reaction to his touch?
But it wasn't merely his touch; it was how he touched.
She glanced at him. A smile toyed at the corners of his lips, but other than that, he seemed intent on whatever the old man was saying to him. If Elon, could carry on a conversation like this, then so could she.
She turned towards Lord Rimes. "I can see why the road is of such importance to you, but have you considered—"
His foot ran along the edge of hers, and the warmth kindled by his touch reached her cheeks.
Lord Rimes gestured for her to continue. "Have I considered...?"
Ah, yes. The conversation. "Have you considered using the rivers to—"
Elon's foot moved down her calf in a slow, languorous caress. Something about the intimacy of touching her legs suddenly left her awash in heat, and she gasped, her leg jerking upwards. It bumped into the underside of the table, making the silver plates clatter and the candelabra waver.
She clenched her jaw and stood. "If you'll excuse me."
Lord Rime's brows nearly writhed in confusion. "I–I—well, of course."
She marched towards the double doors leading into the hallway. The squeak of wooden chair legs against marble announced Elon would soon follow. She burst into the hallway, savoring the cool air against her inflamed cheeks.
Elon was going to hear her thoughts on his little game of foot play, whether he wanted to or not. But to be fair, she should have tamed her reactions to him. It had been rather unbecoming of—
She glanced down at her feet. Only one of her slippers was on, the other one likely still beneath the table. And she'd just walked out of the dining room like that, prominently displaying her stockinged foot.
If Elon thought he could finagle his way out of this one with kisses or smirks or flattering comments, he'd soon find he was quite wrong.
The door to the dining room opened behind her and shut. Elon bit back a grin. "Did you see their—"
"Was that really necessary, Elon?"
He blinked, wiping the grin from his face. "The foot play? Absolutely."
"Well, I'm glad you were amused by it."
Elon leaned back against the door, his arms folded. "I take it you weren't."
"You know I'm not, and you knew before you even did it that I wouldn't be." Carissa ran her hands through her hair, only to bite back a curse when she realized she'd mussed her bun. "Why are you intent on allowing me to be humiliated, over and over? Was yesterday not enough?"
He tilted his head. "I know this is frustrating, Carissa. Just trust me."
"Trust you? Give me a reason I should trust you."
"I love you."
"If you loved me, one would think you wouldn't be so eager to have me publically embarrassed."
His eyebrows rose, his eyes wide and soft with vulnerability, and his arms dropped to his sides. "If? Was that ever in question?"
Carissa clenched her jaw, catching the tip of her tongue between her teeth. Perhaps she shouldn't have spoken so harshly, but Elon was being on the verge of merciless. Could she not have a moment's reprieve now that she was at the palace?
"I see." He glanced away from her, but not before hurt flared across his expression. "I don't intend to hurt you. I'm simply trying to remind you to care less about their opinions."
"Look, Elon, I've tried. I can't just stop caring about their opinions simply because I want to. I'm not like you."
He offered her a sliver of a smile. "I know, Carissa. I'm just trying to help. It's hard in the moment, but given time, the opinions of others will come to matter less and less."
She folded her arms across her chest, wishing she could congeal her hurt and confusion into a little ball and keep it there. Ever since she'd married Elon, she'd become more and more aware of her inadequacies. She fell short of everyone's expectations—the noble's, Elon's, even her own.
"Carissa, are you alright? You've become rather quiet." His voice was thick with concern as he neared her. "What is it?"
She drew in a ragged breath and shook her head, intent on keeping the bitterness buried within her. Elon deserved better.
"You can talk to me, Carissa."
"It feels like you're manipulating me." The words unfurled before she could pin them down.
"Manipulating?"
"Ever since we've arrived, it's been about training: in combat, in becoming accustomed to your touch, in becoming the perfect queen. Even the futures you choose are those in which you can shape me into the queen you want me to be." She lowered her head, directing her words at the marble. "Am I just not enough for you—or anyone else? Will I ever be enough?" Her voice creaked dangerously, hinting at the latent sobs tightening her throat.
"Of course you're enough, Carissa." He ducked his head to catch her gaze. "I married you, didn't I? And even should you never change from who you are now, ever I would love you. But you're right: I do want you to be better, but more for your sake than anyone else's. Improvement is the only way to live life to its fullest."
She heard his words, but somehow their meaning wasn't enough to dissipate the chant in her head. Not enough, not enough, not enough. "Can't you just... leave me alone?"
When he flinched, she realized she'd once again spoken too harshly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..." She shook her head. "Why do you feel the need to force me into such situations? Can't you just let me choose?"
"You always have the ability to choose, Carissa."
"I know. But couldn't you stop manipulating things? Couldn't you let them happen as they will?"
His expression tightened. "If by manipulating, you mean choosing situations that have the most potential to benefit you, then no. I won't." He sighed. "Although, sometimes, the things that will happen will simply be the consequences of your decisions."
"And you can't control that?"
"Consequences happen for a reason too."
Carissa released a slow breath, letting the air dribble past her lips. She was exhausted and battered by all that had happened recently, the vast majority of it her fault, not Elon's. "You're right, Elon. I'm sorry. But could you at least tell me what's going to happen before?"
He shook his head, his smile apologetic. "No."
She swallowed hard, tamping down her frustration. "Then can you promise me you'll tell me afterwards why you did what you did?"
"I'm afraid not."
Her breaths sharpened, rushing in and out of her chest. "So you're telling me you're going to control certain situations in ways I won't like, and you won't give me either a forewarning or explanation."
Elon nodded. "I know this must seem frustrating, but—"
"Frustrating? It's completely unfair." Her blood felt so hot it seemed to boil and froth within her veins. Carissa smoothed her hands over her gown. If she wanted Elon to treat her like a queen, she had to act like one. "Forgive me. I don't mean to be ungrateful for all that you've done for me, but it feels like you're... controlling me, like I'm nothing more than a puppet, and I didn't anticipate that."
Elon nodded, the sympathy never slipping from his gaze. "You spoke with Sir Valen, didn't you?"
"Who?"
"He saved you, once, from that..." Elon's squinted for a moment before shaking his head. "His name isn't worth remembering."
Unfortunately, she did. "Akar."
"Yes. You spoke with Sir Valen afterwards, didn't you?"
Carissa nodded and considered him asking him how he knew. But of course he knew; the knight was under his command.
"He said the King requires something of those closest to him. Do you recall what?"
She seamed her lips to withhold a sigh. "Something about trust."
Elon nodded. "I believe he said: complete trust, especially when you don't understand his methods."
How was she supposed to trust him when he seemed to make such arbitrary decisions? Especially if he wouldn't explain himself?
"Carissa?"
A good queen would have told Elon she understood, that she'd blindly accept whatever situations he threw at her. Carissa's shoulders caved. But she wasn't a good queen—though for Elon's sake, she wished she could be. "Elon, I don't understand. And I'm tired. I just need..." She closed her mouth so sharply, her teeth clacked. She'd vented enough to Elon; he didn't need any more of her emotional regurgitation.
Elon nodded encouragingly, but his eyes dim were with resignation.
He already knew what she was going to say; she might as well get it out. "Within the past few days, I've been raped and rejected and hurt and healed. I've experienced more life in the past month than I have in all my eighteen years. I just need time. And space."
"I... know." He dragged the last word out slowly, as if it pained him to do so. He sucked in a breath, nodded. "I know." The words were silkier this time, as if he'd tossed them around in his mind many times before speaking them, smoothed down by repetition like a stone was smoothed by a river. "The last few days have been eventful, and should you decide you need a break, I will respect your decision."
She nodded in return, and they both stood there, each waiting for the other to act first. She wanted Elon to reach out to her—or to reach out to him—but she'd asked for space. Space would do her good; she'd experienced precious little since she'd entered Zonah.
With nothing left to say, Carissa turned and walked towards their room, feeling the weight of his gaze all the way down the hallway.