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Because my husband is stronger than me, and he would not allow me to live if I tried to escape him.
I extinguish the flames, my resolve hardening. I will find a way out of here. I will make those responsible for Kayan’s death pay. And I will honour his memory by living, and by fighting.
I walk to the window, looking out at the manicured gardens below.
“I miss you,” I whisper, imagining Kayan standing beside me. “I miss you so much it hurts to breathe sometimes.”
In my mind, I can almost hear his response. “Then breathe for both of us, Rose. Live for both of us.”
I nod, squaring my shoulders. Yes, I will live. I will fight. And I will never, ever forget him.
A knock at the door startles me from my reverie. “My lady?” It’s one of the servants, her voice timid. “Your husband requests your presence for dinner.”
My husband. The word tastes like ash in my mouth. But I push down the revulsion, schooling my features into a mask of calm. “Tell him I’ll be down shortly,” I call back.
As I turn to my wardrobe to choose a suitable dress, I catch sight of myself in the mirror once more. This time, I see a flicker of something in my eyes. Determination, perhaps.
Or defiance.
As I wait for him to enter the dining room, I place my hands firmly in my lap and press my lips tightly together.
At dinner, he likes me to be a pliant, sweet-singing bird. He likes me to ask about his day, and offer oohs and ahhs when he tells me deathly boring details about the duties he has carried out on behalf of Lord Eldrion.
From what I can tell, this mostly involves watching over the lands that Eldrion’s family gifted him many centuries ago, shouting at villagers, and occasionally fucking them.
He takes great delight in telling me about those exploits. The women he seduces, if one can call it a seduction when he wields so much power over them that they cannot refuse him for fear of retribution.
Tonight, he shall get none of these things from me. My lips will remain sealed. I will not utter a single word. Not a sound. My silence will be my protest against this life I have been doomed to live.
When he enters the room, stomach first, all bluster and red cheeks, the stench of ale comes with him. No doubt, he spent his afternoon in an elvish tavern completely unbefitting of a man of his standing.
There is only one reason to frequent the taverns.
As he draws closer, I realise he smells of sex, too, and it disgusts me.
He sits down in the chair at the head of the table, his large frame barely squeezing into the seat. He gives his wings a flutter and lets them drift out to either side of him. They are gold, like the other Sunborne in Luminael.
Only his look dirty and old.
Like him.
“Are you not going to greet your husband?” he barks.
I keep my eyes cast down to my plate, and do not move or speak.
A Shadowkind fae pours him a glass of wine. I hear him take a sip, smacking his lips together before leaning back in the chair with a creak that shudders in between my bones.
“I said, are you not going to greet your husband?” This time, he hisses the words like a curse.
I still refuse to look at him.
I am poured a glass of wine, too.
He bangs his fist on the table and my wine sloshes over the sides of my glass.
“You refuse to speak to me?” he asks, rising from his chair and striding over to stand behind me.
I had thought it would take a little longer to get him this worked up. Clearly, he is quicker to anger than I thought. But I do not back down. I cannot, not now.
