The Zoelin Queen

Tanya Bird

Contents

Author’s note

Map

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Where to now?

Author’s note

This is not a love story.

I’ve been looking forward to writing this short for some time. I love romance as a genre, but as an author, you are confined by the tropes and reprimanded if you ignore them. These characters presented the perfect opportunity to write something else—something toxic. The protagonists are not chasing a happily ever after, but simply trying to balance their power. If you are looking for a redemption story, this is not it.

This is Jayr and Cora’s story.

Chapter 1

Two servants hung the bloodied bed sheet in the corridor as though it were a piece of art. Cora stared up at it, reading the words painted in red at the bottom.

‘May their queen be virtuous and fruitful.’

She was tempted to tear it down, bunch it into a ball, and throw it at her new husband. But she was acutely aware of her ladies' eyes on her. They would be noting her reaction so they could report to Jayr when he called them to his bed later. Yes, she knew things.

‘It is Zoelin tradition,’ said the woman flanking her right.

Cora turned to look at her. Attractive thing with large breasts for one so young. She could see the appeal. The queen’s gaze fell to the ink marking her middle finger. ‘To hang one’s dirty laundry in the castle?’ Of course, she was already aware of the tradition to display the virtue of a new queen, like a hunter does the head of his kill. She had not stepped into the marriage blindly.

‘The king wishes to honour his wife.’

She smiled. ‘How thoughtful. And how long am I to enjoy this honour?’ She was unclear of some of the finer details.

‘A month or so, Your Majesty.’

Cora turned back, eyes closing for a moment. That was much longer than she had anticipated. Thankfully, her family would not be around to see it. None of them was feeling particularly festive, and they were preparing to leave that morning. She could not blame them. The previous few years had taken their toll, and the alliance between the two kingdoms was hanging on by one marital thread. During the ceremony, those had not been tears of happiness shed by her mother. Cora could still see their uncomfortable expressions as Jayr had led her from the room to consummate the marriage. So much for enjoying the feast first. Some liquid courage would have gone a long way for what followed.

Into the bedchamber she had gone, undressed by strangers in front of a waiting audience. All the while, the king had just stood there comfortably in his wedding attire. Only once she had been laid out for him did he go to the tremendous effort of unbelting his trousers before climbing on.

‘Who would you like to represent your household in the bedchamber?’ Jayr had asked her the day before.

In case having three witnesses present had not been humiliating enough, one of them had to be from her family. There was only one person who could keep it together under those circumstances—Pandarus. He had stared uncomfortably at the wall for most of it. Jayr had also managed to avoid looking at her, somehow lasting the entire act without so much as a glance in her direction.

Now she would be reminded of the event every time she passed the embarrassing display hanging on the wall for all to view.

Or maybe not.

Turning, she walked off towards the king’s quarters, her ladies matching her step for step. When she arrived at her husband’s door, she noticed the two guards bowed but did not step aside.

‘Please let His Majesty know that I would like to see him.’ She spoke Zoelin to ensure they understood.

‘The king is unavailable,’ replied one of the men.

‘What does that mean, unavailable? Is he in there or not?’

‘He is busy, Your Majesty,’ replied the other.

Now she got their meaning. ‘I see. And how long does he usually take with his whores?’ She was pleased by their taken-aback expressions. She might have handed her virginity over to her new husband, but her brain was still very much intact.

Before the guard could reply, the door swung open and a woman with dark, silky hair and high cheekbones stepped through it. She froze at the sight of Cora standing there. Her pretty eyes widened, and a flush of red crept down her neck.

‘I do hope he performed better this morning than he did last night,’ Cora said, her dark eyes fixed on the girl.

‘I… that is His Majesty—’

‘You are in my way.’ Cora was not interested in whatever flowery lie was about to vomit from the girl’s mouth. Her Corneon accent told her everything she needed to know. She was no doubt one of the many girls being sold into the Companion trade, and it came as no surprise that Jayr sampled the goods.

The girl looked down at her feet before hurrying past. Cora raised her chin and said to the guards, ‘Please let my husband know I am here.’

One of the men disappeared inside, returning a minute later to hold the door open for her. She entered, leaving her ladies waiting in the corridor. Coming to a stop in the middle of the solar, she took in the large room with its vulgar sculptures and eccentric carpets. The bedchamber was through the next door, but she chose to wait on more neutral ground. A few minutes passed before Jayr stepped out wearing nothing but trousers and an unapologetic smirk.

‘My beautiful wife,’ he said, walking over to the basin of water on the table and washing his hands. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure?’

No mention of the whore, just business as usual. Had she expected anything else? She was certainly not going to mention it.

‘It is about the colourful art hanging in the corridor.’ Even with his back to her, she could see his smile.

‘A keepsake of our first night together.’ He splashed water over his face and reached for the folded towel beside the basin. ‘It is tradition. Does it make you uncomfortable?’

He turned, meeting her gaze, so smug. She would need to take him down a few notches. ‘A keepsake of our night together? A few disappointing minutes would be more accurate.’

Another infuriating smile. ‘What’s the matter? Did you want to put on a show for your brother?’

She did not even blink. ‘Rather pointless having him there at all if you are going to display our business for the whole kingdom to see.’

He walked over to her, suddenly far too close. His hands cradled her face, studying her carefully. ‘What happens in the bedchamber is everyone’s business. The people must know their queen is virtuous—’

‘And fruitful,’ she finished. ‘I can read Zoelin.’

His thumb brushed her jaw. ‘Come to my bed this evening, and I promise you more than a few disappointing minutes.’

Her gaze fell to his lips. ‘I am relieved you have at least washed your hands before putting them on me.’

He laughed. ‘If I didn’t know any better, I would say you are jealous.’

Her expression remained the same. ‘But you do know better.’ She took a step back from him. ‘I am quite tired after such a big day yesterday, but I will be sure to let you know if anything changes.’

His hands fell to his side, but that cocky glint in his eyes remained. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with, wife?’

She glanced at the door behind her. ‘Actually, there is.’ He crossed his arms, waiting. It was the first time she had seen him without a shirt on. He was firm and muscled, with ink covering one shoulder and extending down his side. Quite pleasant on the eye. ‘It is with regards to the ladies you assigned.’

‘What about them?’

‘I want to select my own.’

He tilted his head. ‘The women must be Zoelin, as you well know. The ladies serving you come from families loyal to the crown for many generations.’

She had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. ‘These women also share your bed.’

‘So?’

Her fingers twitched despite her excellent self-control. He was not even going to try and deny it. ‘So I would prefer not to have companions who have slept with you more times than I have.’

Beautiful teeth flashed at her. ‘What is it you want? An adoring crowd of virgins following you around?’

‘I suspect virgins do not last long in this place.’ She drew a breath. ‘I will settle for a selection of women you have not ploughed.’

He appeared to be considering her request. ‘I will think on it.’

She glanced in the direction of his bedchamber. ‘And I will think on your invitation. First though, I will send the laundry maid. I believe your linen is in need of changing.’

He took a step forwards, closing the distance between them, and pressed his palm to her stomach. ‘Do not forget we are visiting the nearby villages this afternoon.’

Breathe. ‘I have an excellent memory.’

‘I’m counting on it.’

She searched his eyes for a moment. ‘Thank you for your time, husband.’

His hand fell away. ‘Your family leaves this morning. Say goodbye to them on my behalf.’ He turned and walked off in the direction of his bedchamber.

‘You are not going to come and see them off?’

He stopped and turned. ‘Why? So I can thank them for dropping by?’

‘They are family.’

‘And they dishonour me, and you, with their rushed departure.’

‘So you retaliate by ignoring them? I was taught to rise above such things.’

He flashed her another grin. ‘Well, we had very different teachers,’ he replied before disappearing into the room and closing the door.

She stared after him, anger rising, then stepped out into the corridor where her ladies were waiting for her.

‘Leave me,’ she said, dismissing them. The cool air blowing through the open windows felt good on her heated skin as she walked away. The warm season might have arrived, but so far the only indication was an absence of snow. When she reached the end of the corridor, she descended the steps and made her way through the burrows below, where servants ran to and fro with baskets, trays, and pails. They pressed themselves against the wall as she passed. When she reached the laundry, she marched straight in and glanced around at the stunned women. They looked between themselves before falling into a curtsy.

‘The king needs fresh linen for his bed,’ she announced.

One of the younger maids moved towards the door, and Cora caught her by the arm as she passed. Startled, the girl looked up at her, a little afraid, which suited Cora just fine. ‘I want the used bed sheets brought to my quarters. Do you understand?’

The confused girl nodded. ‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Cora turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, she added. ‘And someone bring me red paint.’

Chapter 2

There was not a chance in hell that Jayr was going to take the bed sheet down. Cora was in his kingdom now, and the pampered princess needed to learn what it meant to be his queen. Of course, she would fight him every step of the way. But despite what a headache she was, he enjoyed the notion of ownership. She belonged to him now, his property, his pawn in the game he played so well. The morbid faces of her family during the ceremony had only fuelled his satisfaction.

Just as he finished dressing, a quiet knock sounded at the door, and a young maid entered the room, looking suitably nervous. ‘Her Majesty sent me to change your bed linen.’

He did not know whether to laugh or throw the girl out. Cora was going to be a handful—he knew that much. Shaking his head, he stepped out into the solar and ate the saffron eggs and bread that had been left on a tray. He ate quickly, aware he had business to tend to before he took Cora to visit the local villages in the afternoon. It was tradition for the king to introduce his new wife once the marriage had been consummated, and he was looking forward to parading his prize catch.

When he exited his quarters, the guards on the other side immediately fell to one knee, their spears extended and their chins lowered to their chests. Stepping past them, he marched along the corridor in the direction of the throne room. He glanced up at the displayed bed sheet as he passed it, then stopped. He blinked, narrowed his eyes, thinking perhaps he was seeing things.

On the wall hung not one but two bed sheets. The first was the one from their wedding night, with the words ‘May their queen be virtuous and fruitful’ painted at the bottom. Then there was a second. This one had no bloodstains, but down at the bottom, written in red paint, were the words ‘May their king be faithful and potent.’

He reached up, rubbing the stiff fabric between his fingers. Drawing a calming breath, he glanced both directions down the corridor before tearing it from the wall. Tucking it beneath his arm, he marched towards the queen’s quarters. The guards at the door dropped to one knee at the sight of him, and he stormed past them, bursting through the door unannounced. He stopped inside, searching for her. She was not there. Throwing the linen down, he called to the guards, ‘Where is she?’

‘Out front, Your Majesty,’ replied one as they got to their feet. ‘Seeing her family off.’

Jayr ran a hand down his face, trying to get control of his temper. She was lucky she was queen. Anyone else, he would have marched down there and dragged her away by the hair. But queens were untouchable in Zoelin, worshipped like goddesses, never to be marked by another’s hand, unless it was ink in her honour. He was going to have to find other ways to keep her in line.

Back down the corridor he went, through the hall and out the front entrance before descending the steps two at a time. He searched for her at the bottom of the steps and found her standing with her mother. Eldoris was clutching her daughter’s hands as though they would never see each other again—a possibility given his current mood. Soon she would be within reach of him, and he was imagining what it would feel like to wrap his hands around her delicate throat and teach her a much-needed lesson.

The queen mother spotted him first, covering her dislike for him as much as she could, given how deep the feelings likely ran.

Cora turned to see what had caught her mother’s attention. She assessed him, and a satisfied smile settled on her face.

‘Husband,’ she said. ‘You made it after all. I am afraid you missed the others. They left a few minutes ago.’

He came to stand beside her. More over her, really. She took a small step back from him.

‘Shame,’ he said, his dark gaze on her before turning to her mother. ‘And shame you could not stay for the feast.’

Eldoris looked far from disappointed. ‘As wonderful as a second feast sounds, I am needed at home.’

Cora rested her palm on his forearm, and he patted the top of her hand, imagining how easily he could break every bone in it.

‘This afternoon we travel to nearby villages for more celebrations,’ Cora said.

‘Ah, a wedding tour,’ Eldoris replied.

Jayr shook his head. ‘Quite different. During a wedding tour, the queen travels the kingdom waving from the comfort of a carriage.’

Eldoris blinked. ‘How else would a queen travel?’

‘By horse.’

Cora laughed. ‘What, like a peasant?’

His fierce eyes returned to her. ‘Like a Zoelin Queen.’ He leaned closer to her. ‘You are in my kingdom now.’ His eyes travelled down her impractical dress and exposed cleavage. As beautiful as it was, he did not want it on display for every other man to see. ‘Say goodbye to your mother, and have your ladies dress you in something appropriate.’

She withdrew her arm from his. ‘I already selected this dress.’

Jayr turned his back on both of them, aware of how rude he was being. ‘Which is why I said something appropriate.’ He was already walking away.

‘Be sure to take care of my daughter,’ Eldoris said, a warning in her tone.

He glanced over his shoulder. ‘Safe travels, Your Majesty.’

* * *

‘I assume you know how to ride a horse,’ Jayr said, eyeing his wife.

They were standing on the bottom step, preparing to ride out.

‘Of course I know how to ride a horse,’ Cora replied, not looking at him.

His gaze fell to her dress. It was the same one she had been wearing earlier. ‘I thought I told you to select another garment.’

Now she looked at him. ‘And I told you, I already selected a dress.’

He pointed to where two grooms were struggling with a tall black mare. ‘A wedding present,’ he said, gesturing for the horse to be brought forwards. ‘Excellent breeding and flawless confirmation.’

The beast also happened to be of high spirit and freshly broken. As if to prove the point, the mare danced sideways a few paces, tugging against the bridle. Cora stiffened next to him.

The queen cleared her throat. ‘She is lovely.’

He bent to kiss her forehead. ‘Only the best for my wife.’

Cora’s eyes remained on the men trying to keep the mare under control. ‘While I am appreciative of the gift, you do not actually expect me to ride that thing, do you?’

He ran a finger down her cheek. ‘She will quieten down once we get moving. Unless you are afraid?’

Cora looked up at him, seemingly trying to read him. He knew she would never admit to being scared of anything. As predicted, she slipped her riding gloves on.

‘Let us go’ she said, stepping down to stand beside the muscled mare.

Of course he was ready. He had been looking forward to it ever since he pulled the bed sheet from the wall that morning.

Walking over to his horse, he took the reins from the groom and mounted, then turned to watch his wife. Two grooms held the mare steady while another tried to help Cora get on. Every time she put weight on the stirrup, the mare shifted. After a few failed attempts, Cora’s cheeks began to colour.

‘How long does it take a queen to mount a horse?’ Jayr asked no one in particular.

Cora all but shoved the groom closest to her away. ‘Your only job is to keep the horse still. I am quite capable of getting on.’

Jayr smiled.

The horse swung sideways, stepping on the groom’s foot and knocking Cora off balance. She was caught by a nearby guard and righted. Jayr remained where he was, smug and silent. Cora’s fierce gaze met his as she smoothed down her dress.

‘I will get Her Majesty another horse.’ The groom who had been kicked limped off in the direction of the stables.

‘Pity,’ Jayr said. ‘I thought I paired the two of you perfectly.’

The groom holding the head of the mare went to lead her away, and Cora held up a hand to stop him. ‘Where are you going?’ she snapped. ‘If my husband wishes for me to ride the mare, then I will ride the mare.’ She snatched the reins from him and waved everyone away. Leading the mare to a nearby wall, she positioned her parallel with it before mounting without any assistant. The horse immediately broke into a trot the moment she hit the saddle, but Cora surprised everyone by pulling her up.

Jayr hated to admit it, but he had underestimated her in this particular instance. Not only could she ride, but she could also fearlessly handle a twelve-hundred pound barely broken horse.

He pushed his mount forwards. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. It was early. If she managed to stay on, she would hate him by the time they returned.

Cora appeared to struggle to keep the horse under control for the first hour of their journey. Luckily for her, a perimeter of guards enclosed them, preventing the horse from bolting. They were scheduled to visit three villages, and the animal was only just beginning to calm down when they arrived in bustling Dirith.

A large crowd had gathered, people travelling from nearby villages to glimpse their new queen. The pair were greeted with music, song and prayer. Cora’s horse quickly became overwhelmed by the noise and movement, her back legs dancing sideways every few paces. He could not stop the grin when people began tossing fresh flowers in her path, causing the horse to shy.

Cora did not complain, keeping a short rein while trying to remain relaxed in the saddle.

‘Wave,’ Jayr said to her, seeing she was already struggling.

The look she shot him would have burned holes through any other man, yet somehow she managed to wave. Women stepped forwards with bouquets of flowers, which she somehow managed to take from them before quickly passing them off to the closest guard. She spoke to them in Zoelin, winning them over with her smile and grace, despite her whitening knuckles that told an entirely different story. Jayr could not help but admire her tenacity. It was a dangerous quality in any queen, and even more dangerous in one belonging to him, but in that moment, he was drawn to her.

They left the village, riding side by side, waving to the people lining the road to their next destination.

‘I thought you would have your mount under control by now,’ he lied. He had watched the breaking of the mare. Never in his life had he seen an animal put up such fight. It had taken five men several attempts just to get a saddle on her the first time.

‘A gelding might have been a smarter choice,’ Cora replied, her smile still in place. ‘I have excellent control over men.’

He turned. She was so close he could reach her, pull her from the saddle. Then what? Wrap her legs around him and have her right there and then. Or wrap his hands around her neck and watch her change colour. Both, perhaps.

The second village was Rodal. Smaller than the first, but packed with people who had come down from their homes in the mountains to see the woman he had taken as his wife. Women paid their respects by walking along with the horse, praying so loudly Cora was forced to shorten the reins again. Children stepped forwards with crowns made from wild flowers. She took them with thanks and wore them like cuffs along her left arm. Men fell to their knees, though more out of fear for their king than respect for his wife. Jayr would never let another man disrespect what was his, and every man in Zoelin knew it.

The roads were much quieter once they had exited the village. They continued south down a hill towards Husea, a large village that supplied Drake Castle with everything from food to furniture. The sound of drums reached them well before the noise of the waiting crowd, and Cora seemed to stiffen in the saddle. Jayr turned to her, reading her expression.

‘Drums?’ she said, turning to meet his gaze. ‘Really?’

‘Better hold on, wife.’ He faced forwards again.

They stopped and dismounted. Cora seemed relieved to be off the horse, while he looked forward to watching her remount in front of an audience.

An elder came to greet them, walking them to the main part of the village, where they were seated on stools to watch a dance performed in their honour.

Jayr’s eyes barely left Cora. He was waiting to see something other than a neutral expression, but she was composed, a queen in every sense of the word. Her entire life she had been training for the role. She took everything in stride, even when an ox was led out, its throat cut before it collapsed at her feet. The elder collected the blood in a bowl, then walked over, kneeling at her feet as he offered it to her.

‘Drink,’ Jayr said, searching her face.

She turned to him, outwardly calm. ‘I am not thirsty.’ She spoke in Syrasan so the man would not understand what she was saying.

Jayr gestured to the beast bleeding out in front of her. ‘The animal died for you. My people sacrificed it so you might live a long life at my side.’

‘A plant offering would have sufficed.’

‘Drink,’ he repeated.

Cora swallowed, only a hint of cracking, but it pleased him.

She turned back to the man and took the bowl. Without saying anything, she lifted it to her mouth, took a small sip, and handed it back to the elder. The crowd applauded her before breaking into song. Cora brought a hand to her mouth, and Jayr watched as the colour drained from her face, but she kept it down, turning to him with a triumphant expression.

‘Now they will paint you,’ Jayr said, watching her reaction.

Before she could ask any questions, the elder stood, dipped his thumb in the bowl, and ran it across her forehead before stepping away and joining in the singing.

‘How long am I to leave this on?’ she asked Jayr.

He was part disappointed that she had taken it all so well and part proud of the fact. Yes, she was spoiled, selfish, but she was also made of something stronger than he had been expecting. ‘For as long as you can.’

The elder offered the bowl to the king, and Jayr took a drink before handing it back. The man dipped his thumb into the blood once more and ran it over the king’s forehead and down each cheek.

‘Why do you get your cheeks painted also?’ Cora said, still speaking in Syrasan.

‘Because we are not equals,’ he said, turning to her. ‘Best you remember that.’

Chapter 3

By the time Cora arrived at the feast, she could barely walk. Every muscle ached, and her legs cramped like nothing she had ever experienced before. He had put her on that horse to teach her a lesson, no doubt hoping she would admit defeat, fear, something. But she had done none of those things. She had survived the entire afternoon on top of that beastly mare, and now she entered the hall with all the grace one expected of a queen, praying Jayr would not see through her facade. It took all her concentration and energy not to limp.

Cora took a seat at the high table beside her husband. While she was enjoying her new status, and the power it afforded her, she suspected the novelty might soon wear off. As she looked around the crowded room, she found many people looking back, no doubt wondering if their new queen had any brains or substance beneath all that beauty. Of course she did, but she could hardly make a show of it. Cleverness was an art form for a woman—and a curse.

‘You look beautiful,’ Jayr said, bringing her jewelled hand to his mouth and kissing it.

For all his faults, and there were many, he always paid her compliments, however insincere. ‘Thank you.’ All the confirmation she needed was right there in front of her, in the lustful gazes of the men spread about the room. And her husband was no fool. He saw it too, his jaw ticking.

Picking up her cup of wine, Cora settled back in her chair to people watch. It was one of her favourite pastimes. Though normally she shared commentary with her mother or unwilling brothers, and now she found herself very much alone.

Reaching for the jar of wine, she filled her cup. She would drink herself to death before she indulged in any form of self-pity.

Jayr turned, watching her pour. ‘I suggest you slow down. It might be a long night.’

She continued to pour until the cup was so full she was forced to take a sip to prevent spillage. ‘How about instead of a lecture, you give me a little rundown of our guests before I am forced to converse with them?’

He turned back to the room. ‘That is what your ladies are for.’

She emptied half the cup in a few mouthfuls. ‘I dismissed them. I told you, I want to select my own.’

She noticed his fingers press into the arms of his leather chair.

‘And I told you I would think on your request.’

Up went her cup. ‘Request makes it sound so… optional.’

He turned back to her. ‘As opposed to a command?’

‘I prefer to think of it as a relaying of my wishes so you can take action.’

Again, she noticed his fingers pressing into the chair.

‘And if I refuse?’

She stared at him with something resembling innocence. ‘Refuse? Why on earth would you refuse? As my husband, you must surely live for my happiness.’

He drew a calming breath and looked away. ‘And do you live for mine?’

She leaned forwards, refilling her cup once more. ‘Of course. In fact, you were in my prayers not half an hour ago.’

He picked up the jar of wine and placed it on the other side of him, out of her reach. ‘You were praying for me?’

She took another long drink before replying. ‘Yes. I asked that you live a long, happy life, and that your whores be free of disease.’

He sniffed and took the almost empty cup from her hand, placing it next to the jar. Perhaps she had gone too far with that last comment, but he had given her a dangerous horse as a wedding gift.

Taking hold of her wrist, he turned to the servant next to him.

‘Bring me the ink.’

That sobered her up. She tried to pull her hand free, but he held it firmly in place. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked, keeping her voice even.

‘Honouring you,’ he replied, turning back to her.

‘That is really unnecessary. You honoured me quite enough when you hung the soiled bed sheet in the corridor.’

A smile flickered on his face. ‘I will honour you for the rest of my life, my queen.’

She tried to pull her hand free again, but it was no good. ‘You are going to do this now? In front of everyone?’

He nodded. ‘I want everyone to see what you mean to me.’

She looked around the room, conscious of the guests now looking in their direction. She tried to relax. ‘I need to remove my rings.’

His eyes met hers, a warning in them. ‘Of course.’ He released her hand, watching her as though she might stand and flee any moment.

Had he not figured out yet that she ran from nothing and no one?

Removing the large rubies from her fingers, she set them aside before laying her hand flat on the table. Jayr glanced down at it, then up at her.

‘Some fear is healthy, you know,’ he said.

Before she could think of a retort, the servant returned with a small wooden box. Jayr placed it on the table and opened the lid, taking out an instrument with a wooden handle and seven sharp needles at one end, and a small pot of black powder.

Cora swallowed and looked up at her husband. ‘I assume you cleaned it since marking your Corneon whore, the one I caught fleeing your bedchamber this morning.’

She saw the set of his jaw change and felt his hand press down firmer. The bones in her hand seemed to creak beneath the pressure.

‘Hold still,’ he said. ‘This is going to hurt.’

* * *

Jayr sprinkled powder over the bloodied hand and rubbed it in with his thumb. A servant placed a bowl of warm water in front of Cora, and he watched as she submerged her trembling hand in it. The water immediately turned black.

‘You can take it out now,’ he said.

Cora wiped the water away and studied the swirling pattern that ran from her middle knuckle to the centre of her hand.

‘What do you think?’ he asked. He would never admit it aloud, but he was proud of the fact that she had not flinched or even emitted a single noise during the ritual.

She laid her hand on the table in front of him. ‘It is bleeding.’

He saw behind the brave face she presented. Running a finger down her cheek, he said, ‘It will bleed for a while.’ He had intended to let her get over the shock of her new horse before marking her, but then she had opened that mouth of hers, and he had quickly changed his mind. ‘You look a little pale.’

She straightened, meeting his gaze for the first time since he had needled her. ‘Pass me the wine.’

He was tempted to say no, because he could, but decided to reward her bravery instead. Filling her cup halfway, he handed it to her, and she drank like she was parched. He had no real objections to her drinking, except he knew she normally drank more than she could handle, and he would not let her embarrass him.

‘Perhaps you would like to dance.’ He knew she was in no mood for it. Her legs would likely give way after her challenging day in the saddle.

She placed her now empty cup on the table and glanced at her bleeding hand. ‘All right.’

He almost laughed out loud at her stubbornness. Apparently she refused to show any weakness in front of him.

Taking hold of her bleeding hand, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. ‘I have a better idea.’

Her expression changed to something resembling curiosity. ‘What idea is that?’

‘Why don’t I take you back to your quarters.’

‘And do what?’

She knew, she just wanted him to say it. ‘Tend my broken wife.’

‘I am not broken.’

‘You are bleeding.’

‘Because of you.’ She tilted her head and lowered her voice. ‘Is that how you get off? You like your women to bleed first?’

He shrugged. ‘That’s one way.’ He stood and offered his hand, and she hesitated before taking it. She rose from her seat on unsteady legs, an observation that brought a smile to his face. Yes, he could be charming, but he could also be a complete bastard in the very next breath.

Everyone in the room turned to watch them exit. Jayr said nothing of their departure as he led Cora through the crowd and out the door at the far end of the room. They walked to her quarters in silence. Every now and then Cora glanced down at the bleeding wound, probably in shock.

‘The first time always hurts,’ he said, breaking the silence as they turned the corner.

‘Are you still talking about the ink?’

He kept his eyes ahead. ‘You can apply it to most things.’

Cool air blew through the open windows, and Cora shuddered. He enjoyed the sight of her shivering, uncomfortable. Perhaps it gave the illusion of vulnerability, something he had yet to witness in his new wife.

The guards outside her door dropped to one knee as they approached. Jayr pushed the door open. ‘After you,’ he said.

She walked through without so much as glancing at him. He watched her hips swing in front of him, no doubt aware of his eyes on her as she glided straight through the bower and into the bedchamber. Once inside, she turned to watch him enter.

‘Do you want an audience this time?’ she asked.

He walked over to her and leaned against the bedpost. ‘Does that excite you? The thought of someone watching us?’

‘Did I seem excited last night?’ She held up a hand. ‘Actually, never mind. You would have had to look at me to know that.’

He closed the distance between them and took hold of her face. ‘Last night was for them, not us. I’m looking at you now.’

He felt her swallow.

‘I need to clean myself up.’ She raised her hand to show him.

He kissed the wound, then licked his lips. ‘I can deal with a little blood in the bedchamber.’

She shifted, nervous perhaps. ‘Is that supposed to be arousing?’

He kissed the wound again. ‘It can be.’

‘Are you going to remove your clothes this time?’

He wished she would shut up. Stepping closer still, his body pressed against hers, he met her mouth, kissing her deeply, waiting to see how she would react to him.

Everything softened.

Pulling back, he said, ‘That’s enough questions.’

She nodded, trembling and flushed, likely scared but visibly turned on—just how he liked them. He kissed her again, feeling it himself that time, then ran a finger along the curve of her breast and down her stomach. His hand moved lower, teasing her through the fabric. She responded with the faintest of groans.

So easy.

‘Take off your dress,’ he instructed, stepping back to watch her.

She studied him for a moment, her plump lips parted, ready for him. ‘I want you to take it off.’

His blood pulsed faster at that. He had always found her arousing, but this was something else entirely—it was hunger.

Holding her delicate neck, he felt that familiar surge of power that came with knowing he could kill her as easily as he could pleasure her. His fingers travelled down her shoulders, dragging the feeble straps of her dress with them. The garment slid down her body and landed in a heap at her feet. There was no breastband, just a short pair of braies exposing the entire length of her lean thighs.

‘If I'd known how little you were wearing underneath, I would have sent you back to your quarters to put on appropriate clothes.’

‘And do you suppose I would have listened?’

He gripped her waist. ‘At some point you are going to have to learn to behave, or your life here will be very unpleasant.’

‘You want me to submit, is that it?’

His gaze fell to her lips. The way she said the word ‘submit’ made everything below his waist tighten. ‘Yes.’

She looked sceptical. ‘Is that what you really want? An obedient wife?’ She paused. ‘No. You chose me for a very different reason.’

He nodded. ‘For the power your title affords me, for what this union represents. I chose you knowing I could break you. You belong to me now.’ He was expecting her to object, but she only leaned forwards, brushing her hips against his.

‘I can submit when I want to, but if you think you are going to break me, you are going to be sorely disappointed.’ She pushed herself up on her feet, brushing her lips against his. ‘I might have kept myself intact, but do not think for one minute I do not know men—especially men like you.’

He kissed her more urgently. ‘Men like me?’ he asked into her open mouth.

‘Drunk on their own power.’

He grinned and pushed her so she fell back onto the bed. Her eyes widened when she landed, but she said nothing, watching as he removed the belt from his trousers and dragged the cold buckle up her leg. ‘I have left welts on women with this very buckle.’

Her head tipped back as she laughed. ‘That is like bragging you kicked a sick dog or flogged a tethered sheep. It only paints you as mean. Show me a wild beast you killed with your bare hands. Then I might see you as something more than a monster.’

He was torn between a strong urge to slap her and a desire to tear off the remaining piece of fabric preventing access. Walking around the side of the mattress, he grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her up to the head of the bed. She was so light, it gave the illusion she was fragile.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked, sounding less confident.

He threaded the end of the belt through the buckle a few times, creating a figure eight. Then, positioning her hands either side of the bedpost, he slipped the loops over her hands and pulled. The belt tightened around her wrists, trapping her.

‘Jayr—’

‘Quiet.’

‘If you hurt me—’

He placed a hand over her mouth and leaned down, his face inches from hers. ‘Stop talking. You’re killing the mood.’ By the time he was done with her, she would not be able to speak at all. ‘Submission can be a very good thing for a woman like you.’ He waited for her to relax beneath his hand. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

Tiny bumps broke out over her skin, answering him before she shook her head.

He walked around to the foot of the bed. ‘There’s my good girl. Hold on to the post if you need to.’

Chapter 4

Cora was sitting up in bed, a sheet twisted around her middle. She replayed the night over in her mind, a fierce act with surprising moments of tenderness. A man she had assumed incapable of being gentle had proven her wrong with his callused hands and experienced mouth.

A familiar warmth spread in the pit of her stomach and she pressed her thighs to ease it. Her gaze fell to the marks on her wrists where the belt had tortured her flesh, leaving bruises for her to admire. He had told her she would beg, and she had told him that she had never begged in her life. And he had been right. Her need had eventually scorched her insides until she had uttered the unthinkable word—please—her back lifting off the bed and her hands pulling against their restraints.

A knock came at the door.

‘Enter,’ she called, not bothering to cover up. The door opened and a young servant girl appeared, letter in hand. She walked over and handed it to Cora before going to wait by the door.

The queen read the note, and a smile of satisfaction spread on her face. She had been thrown when Jayr had untied her and dumped her, trembling, in the middle of the bed before leaving without a word. Lacking experience, she worried he had not been as satisfied—at least, not as satisfied as she was. She recalled those final moments when her thighs had tightened around him, heat spreading through her while she shuddered violently beneath him. Her thighs pressed together once more.

‘Shall I bring the women in?’ asked the servant girl.

Outside were a collection of approved women whom Jayr claimed he had not tied up and violated in the best possible way. He was rewarding her. His generosity suggested he had left satisfied after all.

‘Where is the king now?’ Cora asked.

‘He departed the castle earlier this morning, Your Majesty.’

Cora frowned. ‘Departed? Where has he gone?’

‘I am not sure.’

‘When is he due back?’

‘I am not sure.’

‘Did he not leave a message for me?’

She swallowed. ‘No, Your Majesty.’

Cora exhaled, and the calming effect of the night prior left in one agitated breath. They had only been married two days, and now he had abandoned her without so much as a goodbye. ‘Send the girls in.’

The servant disappeared, and a moment later seven young women filed into the room, forming a line in front of her. Seven. A rather small number given the loose criteria. So these were the high-standing women of Zoelin who her husband had yet to ruin.

They curtsied as one, greeting her in Zoelin. Cora’s gaze swept along the line. Two of them looked terrified, which immediately shaved her options down to five. Another seemed far too young to be included, and two were attractive to the point of distracting. She was not going to lay pretty women in her husband’s destructive path. That left two prospects. She should have kept them both, but she was not interested in dead weight.

They waited, their eyes ahead and hands folded in front of them. Except for the one at the end of the line whom she caught assessing her. She looked away when spotted.

‘Come here,’ the queen said, gesturing to her.

She did as she was told.

‘Show me your hands.’

The girl held them out. Not a spec of ink on them, only calluses.

‘What is your name?’ Cora asked.

‘Sarey, Your Majesty.’

‘Where are you from, Sarey?’

‘Husea.’

The girl seemed confident enough. Cora was not one for wilting flowers. ‘And how old are you?’

‘Seventeen.’

Past the naivety of youth, but not too old to mould into something of use. ‘Do you speak Syrasan?’

‘Yes, Your Majesty.’

Cora assessed her, thinking. ‘Why does a privileged girl like yourself have callused hands?’

Sarey met her eyes, seemingly unafraid. ‘Many Zoelin women work, regardless of their status. My family breed and train horses. I work with them also.’

Cora frowned. ‘You mean break them?’

A shake of the head. ‘Not in the way you are probably familiar with.’

Cora spent a few moments adjusting the sheet around her. ‘Has your family sold horses to my husband?’

‘Yes.’

The queen studied her for a long moment, relying on her exceptional people-reading skills to form an opinion of the girl. ‘Why do you want to be one of my ladies?’

Sarey hesitated before answering. ‘Because it would be an honour to serve my queen.’

A rehearsed response, but what else had she expected.

Rolling her eyes, she said, ‘You are a bad liar, but I prefer that to a good liar.’ She drummed her fingers on the bed. ‘Tell me the truth. Would you rather be training horses than playing maid?’

The girl looked entirely uncomfortable.

‘My father wants me to—’

‘I know what your father wants.’ She looked at the other women. ‘The rest of you can go.’

The women looked between themselves, then stared back at her, apparently confused.

‘Now,’ Cora added, waving them out.

The women filed quietly out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.

‘My husband gifted me a mare,’ Cora said. ‘She is a handful, and Jayr is waiting for me to admit defeat.’

Sarey frowned. ‘I hear she is beautiful.’

‘She is crazy. I barely managed to stay on her yesterday.’ She leaned forwards. ‘How would you like to train her?’

The frown remained. ‘If you want to build trust with your mare, you will need to work with her.’

Cora flopped back on the bed, hair falling over her face. ‘Why is everything so difficult in this kingdom?’

‘I will help you, of course, but you are going to have to trust my process.’

There was that word again. Cora pushed back her hair and studied the girl for the longest time. ‘I need your assurance that you will not sleep with my husband.’

Sarey’s eyes widened. ‘I… I would never—’

‘If you do, I will ruin you. Do you understand?’

Sarey nodded.

‘Good. Now help me dress.’

* * *

Men gathered around the training yard, grinning between themselves. They were laughing at her. Maybe not aloud, but it was in their eyes. The mare paced at the other end of the yard, as though trying to figure a way out. She kept one wary eye on the men whose chains and whips sat by their feet, the other on Cora, who stood in the middle of the yard.

‘I might not know a lot about horses,’ Cora said, ‘but I know we need a halter to catch one.’

Sarey shook her head and leaned her back against the fence. ‘We are not trying to catch her. She will go to you when she is ready.’

Cora glanced over at her, one hand resting on a silk-laden hip. Her eyes returned to the men who stood on the bottom rail of the fence in order to see, their arms draped across the top rails. ‘I can feel their laughter.’

‘Let them laugh,’ Sarey replied, paying no attention to them.

Cora’s gut had been right about this one. ‘All right. Now what?’

Pulling an apple from the pocket of her dress, she tossed it to Cora.

‘Dear God,’ Cora said, catching it. ‘Am I required to feed her also?’

‘You said you would trust my process.’

‘I do,’ Cora said, praying she would not regret it. ‘Fine. You want me to give the horse an apple? That is your elaborate plan?’

‘You need to stop thinking of her in that way.’

‘In what way?’

‘As the horse.’

‘She is a horse,’ Cora said tiredly.

Sarey watched the mare for a moment. ‘Think of her as a young woman. In the few short years she has been alive, she has been taken from her mother, her home, and handed over to strangers who used chains and whips in an attempt to break her spirit.’

Cora watched the horse also. ‘I think we are going to need more than an apple to win her over.’

‘The apple is one kind gesture. The first offering of friendship.’

‘Goodness. I want to ride her, not mate her.’ Cora glanced at the men, who were growing bored. Hopefully they would go away.

‘What name are you going to give her?’ Sarey asked.

‘She is not a pet.’

‘No, but she will become your friend.’

Cora turned the apple in her hand, thinking. ‘Ida.’

‘Ida,’ Sarey repeated. ‘Is it Syrasan?’

‘Galen. It means “free”.’ She looked over at her only lady-in-waiting, noting the amused smile.

‘Now you are going to extend your hand, offering the apple, and keep your eyes down. When Ida is ready, she will come and take it from you.’

‘How long will this take?’ Cora said with an exasperated sigh.

‘As long it takes.’

Another glance at the men, whose shoulders appeared to rise and fall with silent laughter. Wonderful. She held out the apple and, with a shake of her head, turned her eyes to the ground.

Chapter 5

Five days Jayr was gone from the castle, and not a word from him. Luckily Sarey kept Cora busy. Every day the pair went down to the training yard and spent time with Ida. The queen’s relationship with Ida had advanced to a point where whenever she entered the yard, the horse approached her and frisked her for treats. According to Sarey, that was good progress. According to the men who watched them every day, it was a big joke.

‘Go for a walk around the yard,’ Sarey called from her usual spot by the fence.

The queen hesitated before stepping back from Ida and walking in a circle. The mare followed her. Cora changed directions, and so did the mare. When she stopped, so did Ida. The queen glanced over at Sarey to gauge her reaction. She wore a satisfied smile, bordering on smug.

‘She just wants food,’ Cora said dismissively. But as she spoke the words, she stroked the long face invading her personal space. ‘If I was to try and saddle her right now, she would run the other way.’

Sarey watched the two of them for a moment. ‘Look how relaxed she is with you now, and look how she is listening to you.’

‘Listening? Really, Sarey, how could you possibly tell that?’

‘From her ears.’ She crossed her arms. ‘I think you are wrong about her running the other way. Tomorrow we will saddle her and see. No riding her though.’

The queen’s hand stilled. ‘Of course not. That would be far too logical.’

Sarey smiled. ‘We are taking things slow, remember?’

Cora spent the next three days saddling and unsaddling the mare, feeding her, and even playing with her. At first she had scoffed at the ridiculous suggestion, but she had also noticed that the men had stopped laughing and were now watching with interest. So she ran about the yard in her impractical dress, her hair coming loose as she darted this way and that. Ida pivoted, thrusting her head up and down, snorting, and seemingly enjoying herself.

Flushed and out of breath, Cora could not help the smile that formed every time the mare reached her, her warm muzzle checking the queen’s pockets for carrot pieces. She no longer cared about the audience assessing her. While she would never admit it to Sarey, it was the most fun she had while sober in a long time. All right, not entirely sober. She enjoyed a tipple with her morning meal.

The sound of Sarey clearing her throat made her stop and look over. She followed her lady’s gaze to the gate, where King Jayr stood watching her with disapproval.

‘Husband,’ she said. ‘You are alive.’

His dark eyes went to the men gathered along the fence on the other side of the yard. ‘Get back to work,’ he called, sending them scattering. Then, looking back at Cora, he said, ‘Inside. Now.’

She lifted her chin, immediately bristled by his tone, and the fact that he had abandoned her for eight days. ‘I am in the middle of something.’

A moment later, he was through the gate and striding towards her. She planted her feet in the sand, while Ida took one look at him and trotted away.

‘You scared her,’ Cora snapped when he came to a stop in front of her.

‘I suggest you follow her lead. Inside.’

‘No.’

He leaned over her, bringing his face closer to hers. ‘It was not a question. Take yourself inside, right now, or I will have my guards escort you.’

All eyes were on her as she weighed her options. Was it wrong that his assertive tone did things to her physically? Perhaps she would go with him after all.

She turned to the groom she had selected to care for her horse. ‘We are done for the day. Please take Ida to her stall.’

The young boy collected a halter and jumped over the fence, making his way over to the wary mare. Jayr remained where he was, staring her down—a man and his unbroken wife.

‘Go straight to your quarters,’ he instructed. ‘I’ll deal with you in a moment.’

The pit of her stomach pulsed as she imagined the angry king dragging her along the bed, restraining her. He probably meant to frighten her; instead, her lips parted, drawing his gaze. He took a step back from her, as though glimpsing inside her mind. Satisfied, she stepped past him and headed for the gate. Sarey glanced once at the king before following after her.

Half an hour later, Jayr showed up at her quarters. Instead of waiting to be announced by the guard, he barged straight in and dismissed Sarey without so much as a glance in her direction. Cora was pleased when the girl turned to her for confirmation. She was not the king’s to order around.

‘Go ahead,’ Cora said, liking her a little more with every passing minute.

Sarey curtsied before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

‘I have a guard at the door for a reason, you know,’ Cora said to her husband. ‘I would never let myself into your private rooms, and I would appreciate the same courtesy.’

His expression was intense, his jaw set. His trademark smirk was unusually absent. ‘Listen carefully, because I am only going to say this once. You are not to hang about the men, flaunting yourself like a common whore. You are queen.’

‘I know who I am—'

‘You can talk when I’m finished.’ He did not raise his voice—did not need to. ‘You’re a flirt, a tease, and I won’t tolerate it. You might have gotten away with it when you were unattached, but you belong to me now. Understand?’

She took step a towards him. ‘May I speak now?’

He crossed his arms and nodded.

‘Your jealousy is charming to an extent. However, it is misplaced in this instance. I was working with my horse. Those men have been laughing at our methods all week. They have been waiting for me to fail, be injured, be proved inferior in some way because I am a woman, and yet I have gotten further with that horse with nothing but apples than they did with their chains and whips. They were not admiring me. They were waiting for me to admit defeat.’

The muscles in Jayr’s jaw worked. ‘Perhaps that is partly true, but I know men, and I know what was going through every mind present this afternoon.’

The sight of him trying to rein in his jealousy, his temper, his entitlement, fascinated her. ‘Why do I feel as though you are about to cock a leg and mark your territory? Honestly, there is not a man inside these walls foolish enough to touch what belongs to you.’

‘But I can’t stop their thoughts, so stop fuelling them.’

She stepped up to him. ‘Tell me, husband, what were the men thinking?’

His possessive gaze moved down her body. ‘They were watching your legs, visible through the split in your dress. Every time you moved, one creamy leg flashed into view. When you ran, it was a visual feast. Every man there was imagining those legs wrapped around them.’

Her pulse quickened. ‘What else?’

He reached up, sliding a hand inside the neck of her dress. Her head rolled back as she leaned into his touch. ‘Every time your breasts moved beneath the sheer fabric of your dress, they imagined their mouth on them.’

Her body reacted to his words, his voice, his touch.

‘You refuse to wear proper clothes,’ he added.

Her head tipped forwards again, and she looked at him, her cheeks flushed. ‘So punish me.’

Jayr gripped her flesh; she winced but did not pull away. ‘This is not a game.’

‘And yet I am having fun.’ He withdrew his hand, and she swallowed down her disappointment. ‘What are you angry about? That other men notice me? Men have always noticed me.’ She paused. ‘You want me to wear different clothes? You honestly think that will stop their imaginations from wandering where they please.’

‘Just stay away from them.’

‘All men?’ He was killing her mood. ‘Tell them to stay away from me if it bothers you so. I am not a prisoner here. This is my home. If I want to go to my horse, I will.’

‘If you want your horse, a groom will bring it to the front step.’

Cora folded her arms in front of her like a flesh shield. ‘The riding comes later. Right now we are building trust.’

‘We?’

‘Ida and I.’

‘I thought her name is Sarey.’

‘My lady’s name is Sarey. My horse’s name is Ida.’

‘You named the animal?’

‘It was Sarey’s suggestion.’

Jayr glanced at the door. ‘This is what happens when I let you choose your own companion.’

‘I like her, and I never like anyone.’

He studied her for a moment, seemingly taking her words to heart. ‘Dress for dinner. Something conservative. We have a guest.’ He gestured to her breasts. ‘And wear proper underthings, or I will drag you back here and dress you myself.’

She tilted her head, regarding him. ‘Promise?’

‘Do not test me.’

She held her hands out to him, palms up and wrists together. ‘Will you tie me up when you do it?’

She saw lust in his eyes, but he did not act on it. His self-control was excellent.

‘Behave tonight,’ he said. ‘I won’t tell you twice.’

She lowered her hands, resigning to the fact that she would have to wait until after the feast. ‘Who is our guest?’

‘His name is Nadir. He is an advisor from Asigow.’

‘Is that where you have been? Asigow?’

He looked as though he might not answer. ‘Yes.’

She frowned. ‘I do not speak their language.’

He walked into her wardrobe and began sifting through dresses. ‘Nadir speaks a few words of Zoelin, or have Sarey translate if I’m not there. All the women I sent to you speak fluent Asigow.’

‘What are you doing?’ she called, following him to the door.

‘Choosing your dress for the evening.’

She straightened. ‘I have been selecting my own dresses since I was six.’

Jayr pulled a velvet dress from its hanger and held it up to get a better look. It had a choker neck and closed back. She could not even remember why she owned it.

‘I could not possibly wear that,’ she said. ‘Someone might glimpse the top of my foot.’

‘Then wear boots,’ he said, ignoring her sarcasm and tossing it at her.

She stepped out of the way of the flying garment and watched it float to the floor behind her. ‘I am not wearing that.’

‘Yes you are.’ He strode past her towards the door. ‘And don’t be late.’

Chapter 6

Grandor Nadir was the first Asigow man Cora had ever laid eyes on. He matched Jayr in height, but outdid him as far as muscle went. The man looked as though he had been carved from stone. His bronzed skin was dotted with ink along one arm, discreet in comparison to the swirling patterns of the Zoelin people. Long black hair was tied back in a sleek knot at the base of his skull, and his wide-set eyes watched the room with open curiosity. His clothes were an interesting combination of hemp and fur, and he wore a leather cuff on his right arm.

Cora sat beside him at the high table, waiting for Jayr to arrive. Sarey was behind her translating the conversation between them.

‘How is it being married to the most powerful man in Zoelin?’ Nadir asked, turning to her and waiting for Sarey to translate.

‘It is too early to tell,’ she said after the delay. ‘Ask me during your next visit when the novelty has worn off.’

He chuckled, a somewhat friendly sound, and leaned back in his chair. ‘In Asigow, a woman can lose her tongue if she speaks poorly of her marriage.’

Another delay. ‘You must have a lot of unmarried women in your kingdom.’

More laughter. ‘It seems Jayr has his hands full with you.’

Again, Cora waited for Sarey to translate, then forced a smile. Her own hands were also rather full.

The room fell quiet, and Cora turned to see Jayr striding towards them. Guests bowed and curtsied, creating a domino effect in the room.

His gaze met hers, then fell to the revealing dress she was wearing. A flicker of anger passed over his face before he had a chance to stop it. She was not wearing the one he had picked, the one her former bishop would have approved of. No, she had selected a satin dress with pieces cut out of the torso and a neckline that opened to the navel. She knew she looked good in it, and judging by the reaction of every man in the room when she had entered, they too thought she looked good in it. It was entirely inappropriate for the occasion, especially for a woman of her status, but she had a point to make. Jayr needed to know his wife was not some wilting flower he could lock away while he worked his way through every woman in the castle.

The king stepped up behind the table, coming first to her and taking her hand. She looked up, all doe-eyed, wondering how he would play the situation. He kissed her hand, eyes locked on hers. ‘You look beautiful this evening, my queen.’

She gave her best impersonation of a sweet smile. ‘Thank you.’

He took a seat next to her while Nadir moved to sit on the other side of him. That suited Cora just fine; she was not one for small talk.

When she glanced up at Sarey, she saw her face was pinched with worry. The sight should have made her uneasy, but the three cups of wine she had drunk as she got ready gave her a false sense of indestructibility.

Jayr’s went about ignoring her for the rest of the evening. He was turned away from her, speaking in Asigow so she could not even eavesdrop on their conversation. If he thought ignoring bad behaviour was the best way to deal with her, he was very wrong.

Cora filled her cup, then filled it again. She heard Sarey clear her throat behind her, a subtle reminder, perhaps, to stop drinking. Cora ignored her, drinking until her husband’s voice dissolved into a low hum of incoherent noise.

She barely ate a thing when the food arrived, pushing quail around her plate and opting for more wine instead.

When Jayr pushed his own plate away, she turned to him, her speech a little slow and her vision blurry. ‘Would you like to dance, husband?’

It was the first time he had looked at her since taking his seat. She watched his gaze move over her, pausing on her lips, which were likely stained red from the wine. Bringing his face close to hers, so no one else could hear him, he said, ‘You’re a disgrace. If you think I’m going to let you stand, walk, or dance, half-naked and drunk, in front of my guests, you are wrong. You will not move from your chair until I say so.’

She blinked, hoping it would improve her blurry vision. There was a warning in his eyes, one that only encouraged rebellion. She shifted her body, drawing his gaze to her breasts. ‘So that is a no to a dance? Very well. I shall simply find another partner.’

His eyes travelled back up to meet hers. ‘If you make this a game, you will lose.’

She suppressed a smile, straightened, and placed her cup on the table. ‘If you do not wish to dance, perhaps our guest will indulge me.’ She looked past her husband to Nadir. ‘Would you care to dance, my grandor? It seems my husband is not in the mood.’

Jayr brought a hand to his trimmed beard, rubbing his jaw.

Cora watched him through heavy lids. ‘I will need you to translate.’

Nadir turned to the king, waiting. Jayr hesitated before passing the message on.

Their guest nodded in response. ‘Goodnight,’ he said in Zoelin.

Cora glared at Jayr. It seemed he had translated something else entirely. ‘Why is he wishing me goodnight?’ She felt suddenly disadvantaged.

‘Because you are tired,’ Jayr said, placing his cup on the table and standing. ‘And I’m escorting you back to your room so you can retire for the evening.’

She laughed and reached for the jar of wine. ‘I am not tired.’

He caught her wrist before she had a chance to grasp it and pulled her to her feet. Bringing his mouth to her ear, he whispered, ‘You are going to leave here on my arm, like a good wife. If you refuse, I will make sure you never leave your quarters again. Now start walking.’

That seemed to sober her for a moment. Turning to Nadir, she bowed her head and stepped back from the table.

Sarey moved forwards to help. ‘I can accompany her, Your Majesty, so you can remain with your guest.’

Jayr’s dark eyes flashed at her. ‘You wait here until I return. I need a moment with my wife.’

Cora was not worried. He just needed to vent, work through some of his frustration. And she suspected she would not mind his methods one bit.

They walked in silence the entire way, her holding his arm because her legs appeared to be a lot drunker than she was.

Only once they were inside her quarters did Cora look up at her husband and say, ‘Have I behaved badly?’

Jayr turned to the servant filling the basin with water. ‘Bring me some scissors.’

The young girl nodded, then disappeared from the room.

‘What on earth do you need scissors for?’ Cora asked, genuinely confused.

He reached up, brushing his thumb along her cheek. ‘You will see.’

She was fairly confident she could handle any fetish he threw at her in the bedchamber, but the inclusion of sharp blades made her second-guess this belief.

The servant returned a moment later with the scissors, and the king dismissed her before leading Cora through to the bedchamber and closing the door. He left her in the middle of the room and walked over to the bed, tugging back the quilt and pulling the top sheet off. Cora watched as he snipped the end of the fabric before tossing the scissors aside and tearing the sheet with his hands. She did not ask questions, did not undress, did not move. She just stood there, a little afraid and completely aroused.

When he was done, Jayr turned and snatched her hands, binding her tightly with the fabric. A smile flickered on her face as she watched his hands work swiftly and expertly.

‘What a resourceful man you are,’ she said.

He ignored her, but she did not mind.

Once her wrists were secured, he dragged her closer to the bed and tossed the end of the sheet over the frame, yanking down on it—hard. A gasp escaped her as her hands shot up in the air and her body jolted forwards. Still, she said nothing, the wine making her braver than she might have been otherwise.

He tied the sheet in place so she was stuck with her arms stretched above her head and her feet barely touching the ground. She was completely at his mercy. Jayr stepped closer, one finger running down the exposed skin between her breasts. Her breathing grew shallow.

‘You have not thought this through,’ she said. ‘How do you intend to get the dress off with my arms trapped this way?’ In truth, she did not care if he tore it from her body. In fact, that was probably her preferred method at that moment.

He answered her by picking up the scissors and dragging the cold tip along her collarbone, then down to her navel. In the same movement, he tipped her head back and brought his lips to her jaw. She groaned, her legs softening beneath her.

He stopped and looked at her. ‘Some fear is healthy, you know.’

He would be sorely disappointed if he wanted her afraid. The only thing she felt in that moment was unfiltered lust. ‘I knew who I was marrying,’ was all she said.

She heard the scissors open and looked down at the blades hugging the fabric of her dress. ‘I love this dress.’

Jayr’s smirked. ‘Every man here tonight loved the dress.’ And with that, he began cutting.

Every time the scissors opened, the cold blade brushed her skin, causing her breath to catch. Jayr cut all the way down to her thigh, then stopped. Dropping the scissors onto the bed, he grabbed the edges of the fabric and tore through the rest of the skirt with his bare hands. The sensation sent a thrill through her entire body. She waited, mouth parted, ready for whatever was next.

The king fell to his knees, and before she knew what was happening, her braies were down. Then his mouth was on her, hot and relentless. Her legs wrapped him, instinctively drawing him closer as she turned her face to the ceiling while gripping the sheet. He reduced her to a quivering mess in just a few short minutes.

Jayr got to his feet while she hung limp from the rail, eyes closed, her entire body humming. He took hold of her face, not gentle, so she was forced to look at him.

‘Every man present tonight was imagining doing that to you. That’s what you wanted. That’s why you had everything hanging out for them to see.’

She tried to think through her post-climactic haze. ‘No.’ Realising her hands were numb from lack of blood flow, she forced her feet to work and take her weight.

‘Untie me,’ she said. ‘I will show you who it was for.’

He regarded her for a moment. ‘There are safer ways to get my attention.’

She was thrown by the word safer. ‘Ways as fun as this?’

Looking away, he reached for the scissors and held them up, studying them. ‘I cannot have a wife who does not know her place.’ The scissors opened and snapped shut, just inches from her face. ‘There is always someone watching us. Perception is everything.’

She laughed once, but it was not a confident laugh. ‘I know how to play queen, if that is what you are getting at.’

His free hand went to her hair, tugging the comb free and brushing it out with his fingers. ‘I need you to play wife. I was prepared to teach you, but I’ve come to realise you prefer to learn every lesson the hard way.’ He wound her hair around his hand and clasped it tightly.

‘What are you doing?’ She tried to pull away from him, but he held her in place. ‘Untie me at once.’

Ignoring her, he brought the scissors to her hair.

‘No!’ She tried to kick him, but he was too close, and he wisely angled his body against stray knees.

‘Next time you will listen,’ he said, closing the scissors.

The sound of the blades hacking through her hair made her stomach lurch. He took another handful, closer to her scalp that time. She shook her head wildly, but it only hurt her. The scissors crunched closer to her ear. Desperate, she tried to move back, but the bed was in her way. When she moved to climb onto it, he pressed his legs into hers, trapping her.

‘Get away from me,’ she screamed, much too late.

Clumps of soft hair slid down her bare skin, landing at her feet.

It was done. She had lost.

She stopped struggling, eyes fixed on him, panting. He cut the back, the top, and any other parts he had missed. He made no effort to cut it neatly, just hacked away at it until he appeared satisfied by her reaction.

When he was done, he stepped back to admire his work while she fought back tears. There was no way she would cry in front of him. She had promised herself the day they married that she would never be vulnerable in front of a man who drew strength from it. It would only feed his illusion of power.

She glared at him, practically snarling, ready to bite his hand clean off his arm if he dared bring it to her face. ‘Feel better?’ she spat.

He threw the scissors on the bed and turned towards the door. ‘I hope you’ve learned your lesson, wife. I’ll send your lady.’

‘You are not even going to untie me?’ she called to his back, not wanting Sarey to see what she had been reduced to.

No reply.

In a few strides, Jayr was across the room and opening the door. Only once it clicked shut did she release the tears she had been holding in. Her eyes moved over the locks of hair covering the floor and clinging to the side of the bed. She lifted one foot, running a toe through the mess. A sob rose in her throat, and she buried her face in her arm so no one would hear it.

Chapter 7

Jayr splashed water over his face and snatched up the towel. His head pounded from too much wine. He had returned to his guest after the incident, trying to wash away thoughts of his wife. While he would never admit it aloud, he wondered if stripping her naked, cutting off her hair, and leaving her tied up for Sarey to find had perhaps taken things too far, given she was his wife.

He reminded himself that she deserved it, and a whole lot more for defying him so openly.

The door to his bedchamber opened, and his Corneon mistress stepped into the solar. She glanced once in his direction before slipping from the room. Not a word spoken. It was possible he had gone a little hard on her also, but how else was he to vent his frustration? He had made her do things no sane woman would agree to, except maybe his wife, but he suspected Cora would not be inviting him to her bed anytime soon.

Throwing the towel down harder than he intended, he leaned against the back of the lounge. A knock came at the door, making his head pound harder.

‘Enter,’ he called, agitated by the noise.

Sarey walked in, stopping a safe distance from him. She was not much to look at with her plain face and boyish physique. It was probably one of the reasons Cora had selected her.

‘You asked to see me, Your Majesty.’

He stood and crossed his arms. ‘How is my wife this morning?’

Sarey clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I have not seen her since last night. She has asked not to be disturbed.’

A wave of something resembling guilt washed over him, but he pushed it away. She had it coming. ‘Sulking, is she?’

‘Recovering, Your Majesty.’

There was judgement in her tone, and Jayr had the urge to walk over and choke it from her. ‘What would aid her recovery, do you suppose?’ He could hardly believe his own words.

Sarey’s guarded expression did not change. ‘Time, I imagine.’

‘She knew what she was doing last night.’ His arms fell to his sides. ‘She wanted to test the boundaries, and now she knows where they lie.’ He had no idea why he was explaining his actions.

Sarey just frowned at him.

He ran a hand down his face. ‘She pushed me too far last night.’

‘I suspect she wanted your attention.’

‘There are better ways to get my attention.’

Sarey did not argue the point.

‘I hear you have been helping her with her horse,’ he said.

‘Yes.’

He fell silent for a moment. ‘You know, if she had asked for a different horse, I would have given her one.’

‘She might consider that a failure.’

‘She is as stubborn as her horse.’

‘I suspect that is part of the attraction.’

He shook his head. ‘They have a lot in common. Both need a good lashing.’

‘The only things we use on her are our voices. She is responding well.’

‘Unfortunately voices don’t work on my wife.’

Sarey glanced down at her feet. ‘I have only known Her Majesty nine days, but I do not think your current method is all that effective either.’

Jayr’s nostrils flared. If she had been any other woman, he would have reprimanded her, but good sense told him that inflicting harm on the one person his wife had befriended would not bode well for him. Besides, he did not want to discourage her honesty. She might be the only form of communication between them for some time.

‘I will ensure the men steer clear of the yards when the two of you are down there. If my wife wants to waste her time trying to tame that horse, she can go ahead.’

Sarey’s expression softened. ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. I am sure she will be pleased to hear that.’ Clearing her throat, she added, ‘If I may, perhaps we could have a wig made for the queen, until her hair grows back.’

‘That defeats the purpose of cutting it off.’

She swallowed. ‘It might be a nice gesture if it came from you. There are plenty of women who would sacrifice their hair for their queen.’

He considered the suggestion for a moment. ‘Very well. Now get out.’

* * *

Cora heard the door open but did not bother turning to see who it was. She was facing the wall, a blanket pulled around her and her chest heavy.

‘I told the guards I did not want to be disturbed,’ Cora said, her voice barely carrying.

‘It is only me,’ Sarey said.

‘Including you.’

Sarey remained at the door. ‘I was just with the king.’

Cora eyes snapped open and she rolled to look at her companion. ‘Why?’ Dread filled her. She needed something in her life that was not tainted by that man.

‘He was asking after you. He seemed… remorseful.’

Cora rolled away. ‘Do not lie to me. Jayr is not capable of remorse.’

‘All right, guilt, then.’

‘Nor guilt.’

Sarey exhaled and stepped into the room. ‘He has given permission to continue working with your horse, and will tell the men to keep clear of the yards.’

Cora closed her eyes. ‘Of course he does not mind now. What man would look at me?’

Sarey walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, placing a comforting hand on the queen’s arm. Cora felt her eyes prickle with tears and immediately shrugged the hand away. The previous night had been mortifying enough. Whatever Sarey had been expecting to find when she entered the room, Cora guessed it was not a naked and shorn queen hanging from the bedrail.

‘He took your hair. That is all,’ the girl said, her voice soothing. ‘The rest of you is very much intact.’

‘I thought I was untouchable,’ she whispered.

‘You are untouchable. That is why he took your hair. Unless he plans to shave your eyebrows, he is already out of tricks.’

Cora turned back around, suddenly grateful that Sarey was there. ‘He is not out of tricks. He will come for you next.’

Sarey shook her head. ‘The king has no interest in me.’

‘It does not matter. He will do it anyway, if only to ensure I am alone.’

‘I am not convinced he is that mean. You are his wife.’

Cora sat up, bringing a hand to her throbbing head. ‘Stop being so naive. You are making my head hurt.’

Sarey glanced at the wine jar on the breakfast tray. ‘That is not why your head hurts.’

‘Spare me the lecture.’

Smiling, Sarey reached up and tried to tame the remaining few inches of hair that stuck up in all directions. ‘I can tidy it up for you.’

‘I am tempted to leave it as is so the kingdom knows what he has done.’

‘The king told me to have a wig made for you.’

She swatted Sarey’s hand away. ‘So he can stand to look at me?’

‘It is just until yours grows back.’ She placed her hands in her lap. ‘Now we just need to find someone willing to part with their hair.’

Cora’s head snapped up, an idea forming. ‘I think I know just the girl.’

‘Really? You know someone who would shave their head for you?’

A smile spread Cora’s face. ‘Of course not. But I know someone unwilling who would be perfect.’

Chapter 8

Jayr gave her three days. He was not a patient man, and three days was probably his limit. She had refused to let him into her quarters, refused to come down to dinner, refused everything. He could have barged in, made threats, had the guards escort her down to dine with him, but he knew her a little better than that.

‘Time,’ Sarey had suggested.

On day four, he intended to confront her, but first he needed to let off some steam. Cora had a way of getting at him, mentally and physically. He needed to be in control of himself, so prior to engaging the enemy, he sent for his Corneon mistress.

Jayr was unbelting his trousers when she entered the room, and he stilled when he caught sight of her. The now almost bald girl looked close to tears. ‘What happened to your hair?’ he asked, already knowing the answer.

‘The queen sent men to cut it off.’ She sniffed.

Not just cut but shaved to the scalp. Whatever sexual mood he had woken with vanished. He did not care about the hair, but that his wife had yet again found a way to get to him.

‘Get out,’ he said tiredly, rubbing his forehead.

The girl turned and rushed from the room.

That was the end of his patience.

He arrived at Cora’s quarters a few minutes later and was informed by the guard that she was down at the yards with her horse. As Jayr marched through the castle, any form of guilt he had been harbouring disappeared. If she insisted on playing games, he would have her confined to her quarters until she lost her mind to boredom. He would refuse her visitation with her family, isolate her, restrict her wine, whatever he had to do to break her.

As he strode down the path towards the yards, a groom approached. Jayr silenced him with a glance, then stepped up to the high rails, searching for his wife. He found her at the far end of the yard, appropriately dressed for once in her life. She wore a short-sleeve cotton dress with an embroidered bodice, and a colourful scarf on her head, tied in an eloquent knot at the back. No wig.

Since he had not been seen, he paused to watch for a moment. Her attention was focused on the beast he had gifted her in order to teach her a lesson—another one that had not stuck. Where was the horse’s halter? An animal that size, and with that temperament, could crush her with one giant hoof and the smallest motivation.

‘As you sit, you are going to bring her down with you,’ Sarey called from the edge of the yard. ‘Do not pull her, guide her. Slowly. Good. Keep the connection.’

Jayr had seen enough stupidity for one morning and moved to open the gate. He stopped, however, when he saw his wife melt to the ground, seemingly unafraid, while the mare’s legs folded beneath her. No whips, tack, or equipment of any kind. He narrowed his eyes at the horse, wondering if perhaps it was a different one.

That was her all right—long thick mane, and a black, glossy coat covering solid muscle. Jayr rested his arms over the top rail, watching as the mare collapsed onto the sand next to his wife. Cora looked rather pleased with herself as she lay over the belly of the horse. She stroked the mare’s shoulder, and he thought he saw a smile.

The king took a step back from the fence and glanced over at Sarey to find her looking back at him. With the fight now gone from him, he turned and made his way up the path towards the castle.

Chapter 9

Cora had managed to avoid her husband for five days, and she was surprised at her success. She had been expecting him; after all, she had shaved the head of his prize whore. Instead, he remained civil, inviting her to join him for meals, walks, anything that would keep up appearances. Every time she replied no, she braced, expecting him to charge in and try to pull her into line. She was ready for him, had even displayed the wig so it would be the first thing he saw when he entered the room. A little salt to the wound was never a bad thing.

But he did not come.

A letter arrived on day six. Jayr was to travel to Rodal the following morning for a ceremony and wanted her to accompany him. Her immediate reaction was no. Every time she glimpsed her reflection, she was reminded of what he had done and continued imagining all the different ways she could say no to him. But she could not avoid him forever. She was queen, and his wife, and her resentment changed neither of those things.

As she paced the length of the solar that evening, wine in hand, trying to decide on the best course of action, she wondered where on earth Sarey had disappeared to. With only one lady to turn to in a crisis, she expected her to be present.

As though reading her mind, the door opened and Sarey stepped inside.

‘Where in God’s name have you been?’ Cora asked, stopping to better glare at the girl.

Sarey closed the door and clasped her hands in front of her. ‘I apologise—’

Cora held up a hand to silence her. She was not interested in long-winded explanations. ‘Jayr wants me to go with him to Rodal tomorrow,’ she said, holding up the letter as evidence.

‘Yes, I know.’

Cora crossed her arms. ‘You know? He sent this less than an hour ago, and you were apparently too busy to be here when it arrived.’

As she waited for her companion’s reply, she noticed Sarey looked pale.

‘The king told me.’

Cora narrowed her eyes. ‘When?’

‘He sent for me this evening.’

‘What do you mean, he sent for you?’ As she asked the question, her eyes moved over the girl, looking for signs she had been compromised.

Sarey swayed and reached out to balance herself on the wall.

‘Are you ill?’ Cora asked with annoyance rather than concern.

Before the girl could answer, Cora noticed blood on her left hand. It was not the blood that made her hands fall to her sides and her heart stop beating, it was the pattern of it, the location—middle finger and back of the hand.

‘What is that?’ she asked, gaze locked on the bloodied hand.

Sarey let go of the wall and covered it. ‘That is what I was going to tell you. The king sent for me—’

‘And you just went to him?’

Sarey shook her head. ‘You want me to say no to my king?’

She most definitely wanted her to say no. Storming over, Cora snatched the hand and saw her own was trembling. Tears gathered in her eyes as she ran a finger along the bloodied ink, but they did not stand a chance against her. She tried to draw a breath and struggled.

‘You should have come to me,’ Cora whispered, dropping the limb as though it were on fire. She brought her hands to her short hair. ‘Why am I surprised? Of course he would do this. He gets off on destroying people.’ She laughed to stop from crying, then looked at Sarey, who appeared close to fainting. ‘What is the matter? Is the enormity of your betrayal too much?’

Sarey shook her head, appearing confused.

The queen could bear it no longer. She headed for the door, shoving the woman aside hard enough to knock the air from her lungs as she hit the wall.

Stepping out into the corridor, Cora headed straight for her husband’s quarters. The faster she walked, the more her emotions seemed to choke her. He would pay for what he did. She would do everything in her power to make his life a cesspool of misery.

Feeling something on her cheek, she reached up and wiped, then looked down at her glistening hand. Stop it.

Cora was ten feet from his door when it opened. Jayr stepped out into the corridor, pulling the door closed behind him as the guards fell to their knees on either side of him. She approached at a speed not befitting a lady, let alone a queen. His eyes widened a little when she marched right up to him, shoving his chest with both hands. He had clearly not been expecting it, because the force made him stumble.

‘How dare you touch her,’ Cora shouted. ‘Is it really too much to ask to have one thing for myself?’ He was ready for the next shove, because he caught her wrists, holding her back with such ease that it fanned the flames inside her. ‘Let go of me!’

‘Open the door,’ Jayr said to the guards, who had gotten to their feet and were looking between them with a confused expression.

One of the men pushed the door open and stepped out of their way.

‘No!’ Cora screamed as Jayr dragged her into the room.

The moment they were inside with the door closed, she lunged for him again. That time he shoved her back, but she managed to keep her footing.

‘Calm down,’ he ordered.

Her hands were shaking and her head pounded so hard it momentarily blinded her. She retreated to the wall, pacing the length of it, trying to slow her breathing. ‘How could you?’

He sighed, as though having to respond was such a drain on his energy.

‘How could I what?’

‘Mark her. Lie with her.’

‘Who?’

‘The fact that I have to clarify speaks volumes.’ She was trying so hard not to cry. ‘Sarey.’ Why was it so hard to breathe? ‘You can have anyone. Anyone. And you do, you have them all. I asked for just one, just one woman not blemished by you. We both know she is not your type, but you took her anyway, just to spite me.’

Jayr crossed his arms and drew a long breath. ‘Are you done?’

She stopped walking and turned to him. ‘Am I done? I am nowhere near—’

‘I did not sleep with Sarey.’

She fell silent and let the words seep through her veil of rage. ‘You are a liar.’

‘I am many things, but not a liar.’

‘I saw the ink.’

He took a step towards her. ‘I marked her. I did not sleep with her.’

She searched his face, trying to see if he was lying and realised she could not tell. He was too much like her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I ink people for many reasons.’

‘Men perhaps, but women for only one as far as I am aware.’

He took another step in her direction. ‘Perhaps you do not know everything after all.’

She swallowed, bringing a hand to her chest, willing her heart to slow down. ‘Then why did you mark her?’

He shifted his weight from one foot to another, watching her carefully. ‘For service to her queen.’

‘You expect me to believe that you did it for me?’ She could barely get the words out.

He shrugged. ‘By honouring you, she honours me. Believe me or not. I don’t particularly care.’ His eyes never left her. ‘She might be good with horses, but not with blood. I had to stop before she fainted.’

Cora remembered how pale and dizzy Sarey had seemed. She felt as though a clamp had been removed from her lungs as air rushed in. ‘Are you telling me the truth?’

He leaned his head to one side, as if she should know better. ‘What did I tell you? I am many things, but not a liar.’

Cora’s hands went over her face, no longer able to hold back the tears.

* * *

Jayr was not an empathetic man by nature, nor was he one for embarrassing displays of emotion in general. The sight of a woman crying usually turned him off.

Cora was the exception.

Perhaps it was because she was like him, her emotions suppressed or choked. At least around others. So when the cracks appeared, he knew the cost to her personally, how much she would have hated herself for being vulnerable in front of him. She covered her face, her entire body rigid as she tried to push everything back down to a place she had likely been pushing emotions to her entire life.

He had made his point, and it would not have been unreasonable to walk out of the room at the moment, to save them both from further embarrassment. But then he noticed her knees were trembling, threatening to give way. Acting on instinct, he stepped forwards and gathered her in his arms. She did not object. Instead, she turned her face into his chest. She was light in his arms, making the fact that she was able to throw him off balance earlier all the more impressive.

Jayr thought about taking her to his bed and letting her sleep it off, but he never let a woman sleep in his bed. They were sent away once his needs were met. They certainly never hung about in tears.

Walking to the door, he opened it and stepped out into the corridor. The guards bowed, knowing better than to let their curious gazes wander; they kept their eyes down as he walked off in the direction of his wife’s quarters. When he stepped into the bower, he found Sarey seated in a chair looking anxious and pale. She immediately stood and rushed over.

‘Is she all right?’ Sarey asked, checking the queen for visible injury.

‘Fine,’ Jayr replied, walking to the bedchamber and pushing the door open with his foot. He laid Cora down on the bed, and she pulled her knees up, curling into a ball like a child. It was time for him to leave, let her lady tend her—only one lady, because his wife did not trust lightly.

He walked over to the door, then paused. Instead of exiting as he had intended, he pushed it closed and returned to his wife.

Chapter 10

When Cora opened her eyes, she felt two things: the usual fog of the prior evening’s wine, and a heavy arm draped across her body. She was confused for a moment as she looked around the room. Then her eyes went to the dark arm around her, its ink markings now familiar.

Had he slept in her bed? Surely not. The man did not do comfort or intimacy. He was King Jayr. He did sex, power, and charm when it suited his needs. There was no one around to impress with the husbandly act.

She felt him shift behind her and turned in his arms. Jayr was alert, watching her. She was conscious of the previous day’s face paint no doubt streaked across her face.

‘Did you sleep here?’ she asked. She felt a wave of disappointment as he withdrew his arm and left the bed.

‘You were a mess. Someone had to save you from yourself.’

Yes, but that someone could have been Sarey.

He walked around the bed and leaned against one of the posts. ‘We cannot continue as we are.’ He sounded tired. ‘We will end up killing each other.’

She stretched her arms luxuriously overhead. ‘Then perhaps you should refrain from cutting my hair off.’

‘Perhaps you should not provoke me.’

They stared at one another.

‘It seems we need a compromise, a way to keep a united front,’ she said. ‘We are not completely incompatible.’

His gaze moved over her, and it felt like a hundred pair of hands moving over her skin.

’No,’ he agreed. ‘We are not completely incompatible.’ He stalked along the edge of the bed before sitting beside her. Tugging down the sheet, he slid his hand up the skirt of the dress she had slept in. ‘I hate that you fight me on every small thing.’

‘I hate that you are so indiscreet with your whores.’

His lips twitched. ‘You want me to be discreet, not stop?’

She looked to the window. ‘Let us be realistic with our requests. I will never be enough for a man like you.’

His hand travelled higher up her leg until it reached the hem of her braies. She moved her leg to allow him access.

‘On the contrary,’ he said. ‘You’re too much for a man like me. Too much for any man, I suspect.’ He drew a breath. ‘Don’t tell me what you hate, tell me what you want.’

‘I want freedom to come and go as I please.’

‘Never going to happen. As king, it’s my job to protect my queen. I need to know where you are, who you’re with, and what you’re doing at all times.’ His fingers moved higher, but she closed her legs, denying him. ‘If you want to go somewhere, ask. If your requests are safe and reasonable, I won’t say no.’

Her legs relaxed again. ‘I want you to apologise for the unspeakable thing you did.’

‘Which thing?’

She raised her chin. ‘Cutting off my hair.’

‘All right, after you apologise for your behaviour leading up to it.’

‘I refuse to wear ugly dresses to appease your paranoia and possessive nature.’

‘And I refuse to let my wife dress like a common slut.’

She shook her head. ‘You have agreed to nothing so far.’

‘Nor have you,’ he said, leaning forwards so his fingers could go where they pleased.

She sucked in a breath. ‘It seems we are incapable of negotiating.’

‘Why don’t we keep it simple? No lies. No games.’

She frowned. ‘I never lie.’

‘But you love games.’

She reached out, stilling his hand so she could concentrate. ‘You promised on our wedding day to be faithful and had a woman in your bed the next morning.’

‘But I never lied about it to you.’

She released his arm. ‘All right. I promise to try if you do.’

‘Agreed.’ He smiled and shifted his body so he was hovering above her, his hand still roaming beneath her dress. ‘And I promise to reward your efforts.’

* * *

They were going to Rodal for a public ceremony. It was good for people to see them together, a united front. Side by side, they represented two kingdoms; they were fierce, unstoppable, able to stand against any threat—even Asigow.

Jayr might not have resolved everything with his wife, but at least they were talking—among other things. Neither of them was capable of devotion or sweeping gestures of love, but a small gesture here and there would be enough to keep them on neutral ground.

As Jayr descended the front steps of the castle towards his waiting horse below, his gaze flicked to the carriage he had requested for his wife. It was one of those small gestures.

‘Where is she?’ Jayr asked the guards at the bottom. If she did not show up as promised, any good will they had built up that morning would be lost between them.

‘On her way, Your Majesty,’ replied one.

After mounting his horse, he looked back at the castle just as his wife appeared, flanked by two guards. She wore a modest dress that still flattered her flawless physique, and no wig. Not even a scarf. Her hair had been brushed to one side, held in place by her crown. When she descended the steps, every man turned to watch. With her back straight and chin raised, she was every bit the queen. By taking away her hair, he had only given her another way to be beautiful.

‘Your carriage awaits,’ he said when she reached the final step.

Her gaze went to the elaborate carriage, its door open and driver waiting. ‘If it is all the same to you, I would prefer to ride alongside my husband.’

Just then, a groom came into view, leading Cora’s black mare. The horse looked cautiously around, her tail lifted and nostrils flaring. She was the same mass of dangerous muscle and energy he had gifted his new wife a few weeks back.

The queen stepped down onto the road and held her hand out to the mare. ‘Hello, Ida. You ready?’

The mare seemed to visibly relax in her presence.

‘Leave us,’ Cora said to the approaching men who were preparing to help her mount.

The men stopped and watched as Cora gathered the reins and pulled herself up into the saddle. To Jayr’s surprise, the mare did not move. He sat in awe as Cora’s swept the train of her dress over the rump of the horse.

‘You broke her,’ he said, a faint smile on his lips.

Cora looked at him. ‘I did not break her—nor do I want to.’

Jayr nodded. ‘The queen will be riding with me.’ He pushed his horse forwards and Cora turned the mare, falling into step beside him.

‘Where is your wig?’ he asked, not looking at her.

She glanced across at him as the guards moved into place around them. ‘You did not really think I would wear your whore’s hair, did you?’

He shook his head. ‘But you took it anyway.’

The gates swung open in front of them, and the horses eased closer together. Cora leaned forwards, stroking the mare’s neck.

‘I took it anyway.’

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