Page 6

Acquiescence

VEYRION

No more screaming. No more protesting. The reckoning goes exactly as I knew it would.

Princess Seraphyne spares herself the embarrassment of having Elephim’s royal family expose her lie. She simply confesses, then nods when I ask if she’s ready to return to the Stone Fae Castle.

“I need a moment, though.” Her voice sounds strangely choked. “May I have your lantern?”

I hand her the lantern but keep an eye on her as she searches the ground for reasons unknown. I refuse to ask.

I have already wasted enough time playing silly games with her because of her lie. I shall not indulge her further.

Eventually, she finds whatever it is she is looking for in the dirt and stuffs it into the pocket of her ill-fitting dress.

“Okay, I’m ready to go back to your castle,” she says, handing me back the lantern.

I snuff it out and hang it once again on the hilt of my sword.

“Turn around,” I tell her.

No talkback this time. She complies with a bowed head.

And after scooping my hands beneath her arms, I launch us into the air.

Much to the relief of the people of Elephim.

I am sure of it. She likely doesn’t hear the whispers coming from the tents, but I do.

They wonder if I have returned to finish what I started.

And of course, their craven king remains hidden in the largest of them, cowering until I rise into the sky once again with the princess in my grip.

This time, she does not scream. She stares off into the distance of the thirteen moons as I ferry her back to the Stone Fae Keep.

The Eryx Oblation is what we call among my ranks a “crushed stone,” offering me mulish silence in the face of my superior game play. That is fine. It adds to my triumph, even. I doubt anyone in my line has broken a Eryx Oblation’s spirit so fast.

But for some reason, the feel of her hands curled around my forearms, with those pitiful nails digging into my skin, keeps flashing across my mind. Like a mouthful of ice after a long flight. Something you wish for, but don’t have.

In any case, she makes no attempt to look for that letter she vowed to find earlier after we set back down in front of the castle.

The great hall is abuzz with activity when we return. Servants bustle back and forth to deliver meals and complete their moonsrise chores. And I can already see that my warriors are gathering for top-of-the-day drills in the fields beyond the castle’s back wall.

Many of the Stone Fae openly stare at the human in our midst.

If the Eryx Oblations notices, she does not acknowledge it. Her eyes remain lowered as she follows me back to my sleeping chambers.

Then sinks to the floor, where I set her down after she fainted earlier.

Another unfamiliar pain tugs at my chest at the sight of her so dejected. This is, of course, what I wanted, but like the feel of her hands on my forearms, I find myself missing the brash princess who tried to pull off such a terrible lie.

“When?”

The unexpected question delivered in a much quieter voice jolts me from my thoughts. She still has not turned her head to regard me. She looks straight ahead, as if asking my throne--which she probably cannot see with her inferior human eyes this question.

Unlike her kind, I value directness. I do not bother to pretend I do not know the aim of her question. “We are to spend a minimum of three nights together. And ideally, we will consummate the marriage before our wedding ceremony.”

She turns her head to me then, tilting her gaze up to ask, “Why would you want to spend three nights, or longer, having sex with someone you’re about to kill? Why not just get it over with?”

It appears that even in her despondent state, she cannot keep herself from asking questions whose answers she will not like.

“To prove my strength. To honor our ancient custom. And to extract every last benefit from your sacrifice,” I answer. “The longer the time spent with the Eryx Oblation, the stronger the king. This practice shows my people that I put our strength and victory above all else.”

“Strength and victory, but not their well-being,” she points out.

“Their well-being is our strength and victory,” I let her know since she comes from a weak breadbasket kingdom, which would not know what it feels like to reign over all.

“So you’re not only going to kill me as a sacrifice to your war moon, but you’re also going to force me to have sex with you?” she asks.

Unlike before, there is very little emotion in her voice. She sounds resigned, as if she is used to bad things happening to her.

So perhaps she is surprised when I answer, “I would never take this choice from you unwillingly. It is up to you whether we consummate the marriage before your death.”

She frowns. “Are there consequences if I deny you?”

Again, I wonder what life in Aralysse was like for her. She talks in the manner of someone who has been treated poorly in the past. And even though I do not know, an odd, vengeful anger spikes inside of me on her behalf.

“No,” I answer, keeping those weak thoughts to myself.

“Then who would ever agree to have sex with the guy who was about to kill them?”

“Every single princess who has come before you has,” I inform her.

Her eyes flare with disgust. “Why?”

“I imagine they believe it will soften a king’s heart toward them and make him stay his Eryx blade.”

She stills. Then asks, “Has that ever work?—”

“Not once in the history of our two kingdoms’ pact,” I answer before she can finish asking.

Another mulish silence.

Then she abruptly lies down on the stone floor, curling herself into what I can only describe as a ball of human defeat.

More strange feelings. And though I have completed my first night’s duty, informing her of her role as the Eryx Oblation and forcing her to abandon that ridiculous “I’m not the princess” lie—I find myself hesitating to leave, even though I was expected at the nightly briefing several ticks of the moon ago.

Perhaps I should stay, just until she falls asleep. It is a strange instinct, one I do not fully understand, but?—

“Unless there’s some rule about you standing over me all night, can you please go?”

It is not for an Oblation to command a king. But her voice has a strange wavering quality to it.

And I sense there is something she wishes to do in private. Perhaps the monthly bleeding my father warned me of.

I leave.

And soon after the door clicks shut behind me, I hear a strange hiccupping sound from the other side.

It sounds like...

A memory from a raid a few solars ago flashes through my mind. We never take the lives of females. But for some reason, the party of Desert Travelers we caught attempting to cross our wastelands without paying the proper fees included many of them, and one was quite small.

Though we spared her, she clung to the body of one of the males we’d slain, wailing “Papa! Papa!” over and over. Her cheeks ran wet with some strange liquid, and the sounds she made were unlike anything I’d ever heard, broken and pitiful.

The cries coming from the Eryx Oblation echo hers too closely, and they scrape at something in my chest.

“Son, what are you doing? Everyone is waiting for you at the battle briefing.”

I straighten, startled. My father stands before me.

I was so singularly focused on the sounds coming from my room that I did not hear him approach.

“Is the Oblation crying?” he asks.

Before I can respond, he waves the question away. “They do that sometimes. Yet another manipulation tactic. I swear, they have legions of them up their sleeves. Imagine if they actually used those clever minds toward helping their kingdoms amass power.”

He turns. “Now come, son. We are all waiting for you in the war chamber.”

I fall into step beside him, while the Door Gravel assigned to me follows at the mandated ten paces. “Did you not consummate the marriage, then?” my father asks as we walk.

“Not yet,” I answer. Then, after a considering pause, “Perhaps not ever. She is rather… angry.”

“I had an angry one once.” My father rubs his chin, almost fondly.

“The first of the three. She slapped the Mountain Goat guard and wailed about how unfair it was to serve as the Eryx Oblation after living her entire life under the luxuries we provide her kingdom.”

My father makes a scoffing hiss in the back of his throat.

“I held out, though. She did not allow me to consummate until the sixth night. I almost gave up and slit her throat without her submission—though Eryx does prefer a conquered bride. But they always try the same tactics. Generation after generation, they never change.”

He gives me a sidelong look. “I am sure your princess will offer herself to you as well.”

“Perhaps,” I reply. But something uneasy twists in my chest. I cannot leave it there. “But Father… she does not seem like the ones you described.”

“Yet, she is,” he assures me, his tone glib and dismissive. “You will see.

Then, he turns to my servant. “Ah, Door Gravel, bring the Eryx Oblation a plate of meat. Cooked, of course. Humans have exceedingly weak digestive systems.”

“Right away, Former Majesty,” the Door Gravel says with a quick curtsy.

But before she can rush away, I stop her.

“Door Gravel, I also have some special instructions...”