Lib Novel Page 51
On either side of him are two other young lords. I recall their faces, dimly, but I don’t know their names.
“The Count’s dance isn’t over yet,” I say. “You’ll have to wait.”
“Oh, I’ve waited for you long enough.” Zevin’s pale eyes hold so much venomous anger that my blood chills. “I’ve wagered everything on tonight, you hear me? Everything. My dear old parents couldn’t take much with them when they left, so I’ve got plenty to spend. You’ll be mine.”
Shit… he’s probably right. In addition to their townhouse in the Capital and their mansion in the woods nearby, the Harlowes had bountiful farms in the west, as well as several vineyards. Zevin is reckless, impulsive, so when he says he bid everything for me, I have no doubt he means it.
Count Meddows’ face falls. He too knows the value of the Harlowes’ holdings. “Princess, I’m sorry.”
Tears prickle in my eyes. “You tried,” I whisper.
He bends closer. “I have only a few guards left, and they didn’t accompany me tonight. And none of us were allowed to bring weapons into the city, or I would make a stand, I’d defend you myself…”
He’s offering to fight for me. But he’d be slaughtered in a second.
“Enough citizens of this kingdom have died because of my family,” I say hoarsely. “Don’t add your blood to theirs. I’m not worth it.”
“You are,” he says. The song has ended, and I’m holding his hands—he’s clinging to mine. “But I have others to protect. I’m sorry.”
“Be at peace,” I tell him, and then he’s backing away, grief on his weathered face.
Zevin catches my wrist and jerks me around to face him, while his friends close in from either side. One of them tilts his pelvis forward, pushing against my hip so I can feel his erect cock through his pants.
Zevin cups both my breasts and squeezes so hard I gasp with pain.
“Not going to fight back?” he sneers. “I admit I had my doubts that His Majesty could tame you, but it seems he’s done a thorough job of it. Look at this, boys.” Zevin runs his hand between my legs, over the protective silver filigree. “A pretty cage for the royal pussy. We should see if we can smell her cunt through this thing. But I want my kiss first.”
He clutches a handful of my hair, jerks my head back, and crushes his mouth to mine. It’s a hard kiss, designed to hurt. I keep my teeth clenched despite the wet thrusting of his tongue against the seam of my mouth.
“Fuck you, Serylla—let me in.” He pinches my nose shut and slams his mouth on mine again, waiting for me to run out of breath and open for him.
I try to pull away, but his friends grip my arms and shoulders, holding me in place.
Suddenly Zevin is yanked back by a tall figure with a swirling sheet of long black hair. The newcomer flings him several feet away, so violently that his flying body knocks down two other guests. The crowd gasps. The music falters, then fades.
The stranger’s back is to me. All I can see is glossy black hair cascading over broad shoulders, and a powerful back that tapers down to a narrow waist and long legs.
“What’s all this?” Rahzien looks up from his discussion with two of the nobles.
“He assaulted me!” screeches Zevin, pointing a shaking finger at the stranger as he picks himself up off the floor.
“Begging your pardon, sir—my lords.” A pale red-haired man with a walking stick comes forward, bowing apologetically, first to Zevin and then to the room in general. “In our country of Zairos, publicly groping a royal concubine in that way would not be tolerated. Prince Gildas was simply defending the honor of your Royal Majesty and your Conquered Consort. No slight was intended.”
Prince Gildas of Zairos? My mother considered marrying me off to one of those seven brothers, but then she and the King had some sort of falling out, and the deal fell through. Zairos is one of the countries I’d planned to approach once I left Kyreagan, to see if they’d be willing to help me reclaim my kingdom. But a royal’s presence here means that the King of Zairos has validated Rahzien’s claim to the Elekstan throne. And with that knowledge, I sink a little deeper into despair.
Rahzien’s rolling laugh eases the tension in the room. “How honorable of you, Prince Gildas. I promised every man a dance and a kiss, so perhaps we should leave the rest of the Consort’s charms to be enjoyed by the winner of our little game, eh, Lord Harlowe? Surely you can wait a bit longer.” He winks at Zevin. “If you crave a woman so desperately, feel free to grope any of the other beauties as forcefully as you like. They are here to be used.”
My gaze travels to one of the dancers standing near the King. Her brilliant smile never falters, and her eyes remain bright, but there’s a rigidity to her stance for a second—a brittle hardness. The next second she’s all sinuous curves as she slinks up to Zevin. He swats her away, his vicious gaze trained on me.
Rahzien turns his attention back to the tall, black-haired stranger. “As for you, Prince Gildas, while I respect your zeal for the honor of my court, I will not tolerate such violence. Enjoy your dance with the Princess, and then perhaps you should take your rest, in preparation for our conversations tomorrow. I am willing to make allowances for your weariness and your head injury—but only this once. Assault any of my people again, and you will pay for it… or your father will.”
A beat of anxious silence. Then the King’s face, which darkened grimly over the last few words, melts into one of his broad, disarming grins, and the guests chuckle with nervous relief.
“More wine!” calls Rahzien. “More music, more dancing!”
Zevin’s friends hustle him off to the side of the room and ply him with wine, while the music starts up afresh and couples begin to whirl across the dance floor again.
Mouth dry, hands clenched, I wait for the stranger to face me and claim his dance. I liked how he threw Zevin across the room, but if he’s a violent, angry person, that doesn’t bode well for me.