Page 11 of Fey Empire (Fey Lords #5)

Chapter ten

D azzling light pierces through my eyelids. The sound of curtains dragging along a rail invades my ears. Consciousness comes hurtling back.

I’m sprawled on my back on the bed. Naked. Covered in dried cum and sweat. My ass hurts, and there is a void inside me where my magic should be.

Movement jostles the bed. Prince Selwyn is sitting up.

Blearily, I open my eyes, only to find the druid looming over me. I suck in a breath, and flounder ungracefully into a sitting position.

The faceless shadow in a cowl ignores me. He picks up a piece of red ribbon that is coiled on the sheets. He unsheathes a small scythe from his waist. He holds it high until it glints in the morning sunlight. Then, he slices through the ribbon in one swift movement.

I shudder, even though it is only silk that has been cut.

The druid leaves without saying a word. Beside me, Prince Selwyn moves to the edge of the bed. I stare at his naked back in befuddlement. When did he take his clothes off?

He shrugs into a dark-green satin dressing gown. His magic is all tangled up with threads of mine. My magic is his now, and the disorientation is enough to make me feel sick.

Prince Selwyn stands and strides out of the bedchamber. Without a backward glance. Without a word. Leaving me alone with three fey healers and a gaggle of servants.

I stare at the door Selwyn left through, as if he is going to reappear.

“If Your Highness would lie on his back.”

I blink at the healer. His green-tinged skin and iris-less brown eyes are a little unnerving.

Highness. Oh my. That’s me. I’m a highness now. I am a prince consort.

I shuffle down the sheets and lie on my back.

“If Your Highness would bring his knees together and draw them up.”

I stare at the canopy above me, and obey.

“If Your Highness would allow his knees to fall open.”

Mindlessly, I obey. This isn’t so different from being poked and prodded by my mother’s healer. Or from being inspected by Rupert.

I close my eyes as a cold instrument enters me. It is withdrawn mercifully quickly, but now the second healer needs to make his check. My fingers clench in the sheets.

The third healer also examines me. He steps back. I open my eyes.

“The marriage has been consummated,” announces the first healer, speaking for all three of them.

I nod as if I didn’t already know this. As if I can’t feel the truth of it in every aching muscle.

The healers bow as one and leave .

The servants step forward. They efficiently take the sheet that is under me. Pulling it so deftly, it slides out from under my body.

Two of them hold out the white silk over the window, as if it is a sail.

A third servant steps forward and pours a purple liquid onto the top edge.

The colour seeps down and out. Dyeing the whole sheet in a matter of moments.

The sheet is now plum-coloured, except for splatters of white in the centre.

Bright splodges that are stark against the dark purple.

I stare at the strange pattern. Then realisation hits me and heat floods my cheeks. That is… evidence of last night.

The servants begin to march out of the bedchamber with the soiled sheet held proudly aloft between them.

“Where are you taking that!” I squeak.

A stout woman with wispy hair gives me a puzzled look. “To show all of court that the wedding night was successful, Your Highness.”

My eyes close.

“It will be paraded around court and then hung in the great hall, Your Highness.”

I swallow. “Okay. Thank you.” I wish I had never asked.

The door opens and shuts. I open my eyes. The sheet is gone. It’s just me and the wispy-haired woman.

She flashes me a smile that I think is meant to be kind, but her needle-sharp teeth are a little menacing.

“Let’s get you in the bath, Your Highness.”

Oh, that does sound good. The first pleasant event of the day. In fact, the first pleasant event in what feels like forever.

I heave myself out of bed. Even my arms ache. Though I guess that makes sense, I was on all fours for quite a while .

Heat rushes to my cheeks again. Why am I thinking of such things? They should be locked up in a far corner of my mind and never thought of again.

The servant leads me to an adjoining room. One that is tiled, floor, walls and ceiling, in a deep verdant green. In the centre is a near pond-sized sunken bath. Steam is gently rising from the water, and I can feel the heat from here.

Wow, this looks amazing. I am already naked, so there is nothing left to do except get in. As I approach the clear water, I see shallow steps leading all the way in.

Gleefully, I make my way into the blissfully hot water. As it reaches my neck, I sigh. Oh that is so much better.

I find an underwater bench that runs along the edge of the bath. I sit down and feel my muscles sag in relief. Heavens, if I get to do this every day, then being married to a prince is going to be wonderful.

The servant offers a sponge, and I take it gratefully. I start scrubbing myself all over vigorously. But no amount of cleaning is going to wash away this strange hollow feeling of my magic being gone.

I had no idea it would feel like this. I don’t know why it is so unpleasant. What’s the use of hoarding magic you cannot use? It would be pointless to keep it. And now it has been tapped, it will grow back. My magic will return. Ready for Prince Selwyn to take again.

It is the natural order of things. I am a vessel. I’m like a wine jug, except I am a person and it is magic that I fill with. And it is magic that Selwyn drinks.

This aching, empty feeling of loss is the way things are meant to be. It’s fine. I’m sure once my magic starts to reform, I won’t feel so lost. My magic was a part of me for my whole life, so of course its absence is going to feel strange.

I look up and find the servant staring at me with a strange expression.

Oops. I am scrubbing quite frantically.

I stop and let go of the sponge. It floats to the top of the water and bobs, dancing on the gentle currents of the gigantic bath.

On the tiled floor, above the water, the servant unfurls and holds out a large white towel. It seems bath time is over.

I climb the shallow steps and walk out of the bath. I thought she’d wrap the towel around me, but instead she gets to work, gently drying me. She dabs the cloth all over my body. I feel less sore now. The bath has done wonders.

As soon as I am dry, she leads me to a dressing room, where two other servants are waiting. They dress me quickly and efficiently, in robes of shimmering green.

Then they lead me to a bright and sunny breakfast room. My feet stumble to a halt in the doorway when I see Prince Selwyn sitting at the table.

His attention is on an iPad in his hand, and the sight of a fey prince holding modern human technology is jarring. My mind is balking at it and refusing reality.

With a deep breath, I regain my composure and step into the room. My place is set across the expanse of snow-white tablecloth from my husband. I gingerly take my seat, but my ass only twinges a little.

Prince Selwyn doesn’t look up.

I look at the bowls of fruit and cheeses. I can’t face eating a thing. But the smell of peppermint is wafting from the silver teapot, and peppermint tea seems manageable .

I pour myself a cup and take a tiny sip. My stomach rolls. I’m going to have to force this tea down. I will feel better once I don’t have an empty stomach.

I look around the room. All the servants have left. We are alone. Why isn’t he talking to me? Is he angry with me? Displeased? He seemed pleased enough last night. I thought he had enjoyed my body.

Maybe it is my magic he doesn’t like? If I feel strange with it gone, and with sensing magic that was my own, pulsing from him, then it must feel equally strange for him to feel bloated with it.

The door silently opens. Dyfri strides in as if he has every right to be here. A servant scurries past him and frantically sets a place.

“Ah, peppermint tea. Perfect!” declares Dyfri. “Thank you, Slyvye,” he says to the servant.

She bobs her head and hurries back out of the room. Dyfri sits at the place that was just set for him, and picks up the teapot.

Is inviting himself to tea, his favourite hobby? Is it an unseelie custom?

Selwyn frowns at him, iPad forgotten on the table. “Why are you here?”

“To see my favourite brother, of course!” smiles Dyfri.

Selwyn scowls.

Dyfri picks up a small bunch of grapes. “I saw the bedding sheet. Congratulations.” He pops a grape into his mouth.

“What do you want, Dyfri?” growls Selwyn.

Dyfri waves an airy hand at him in a gesture so dismissive it is shocking. “Shh. I’m here to see Laurie. ”

I inhale a little tea but manage to put my cup down safely.

Dyfri’s dark eyes bore into me. “Did my boarish brother treat you well?”

I blink. I have no idea what to say to that. This is far outside the realm of any polite conversation that I have been taught.

Dyfri’s dark eyes soften. “How are you feeling, Laurie?”

My mouth opens, and to my immense surprise, I burst into tears.