Page 125 of White Raven

Sucking in deeply, I shoved the crippling fear and terror waiting to strike within myself, like my father had me do over and over when my panic attacks started at the age of five. It was then I had realized the weight of what I bore, settling onto my tiny shoulders, causing severe anxiety.

He had me learn to control it, but there were times it claimed me, took hold, and I couldn’t fight.

“Breathe, kanin.” I heard Onyx’s voice in my head again, reminding me to inhale slowly as Meya’s fingers untied my cape.

I couldn’t see Onyx, but I sensed his gaze the most, boring into my spine, forcing air to stick against my ribs.

The cape dropped to the forest floor. Meya and one of the other girls bent over, lifting my smock from the bottom and yanking it away, exposing my naked body to everyone.

My skin prickled with goosebumps, a shiver gripping my muscles. My teeth bit down on my bottom lip, holding back the tears. Stay strong. Do not show emotion. Taking off my slippers, I held my head up. Sölvi took my hand, helping me down the smooth steps cut from stone, stepping down into the warm water.

Gavric’s hungry gaze trailed over my frame, his eyes flickering with the light from the candles, his arms spreading out on the smooth stone around the spring, opening his legs wide.

I took a place the farthest I could from him. The hot spring was rimmed with seating inside for the king’s comfort, the waterline hitting right above my breasts. Under the weight of everyone’s watchful gazes, I felt like an exotic fish trapped in a tiny pond for those to ogle.

“Wife.” He smirked, enjoying the large audience. “Aren’t you going to come wash me? It is part of the ritual to clean each other . . . plus, I am your lord and master now.”

Bile sat in the back of my throat, my fingers rolling into balls.

“You are not my lord . . . or master,” I snapped, speaking before I thought. “You are my jailor.”

He grinned, propping his leg on the seat he was on, making sure I noticed his size under the water. “I think you will be saying differently by the end.”

King Helvig kept himself in shape, was undeniably a handsome man, but nothing about him attracted me.

I grabbed a sponge put out for me and scrubbed Brynden’s dried blood still crusting my arm from the attack. My “bath” last night when Onyx found me was more a dip, not actually cleaning anything.

“Let me do that.” He moved over to me, ripping the sponge from my fingers, lowering it to my breasts.

“Don’t touch me,” I whispered roughly, reaching for the sponge.

Fury flashed over his face, his hand grabbing my hair, slamming my head into the stone rim, pain and stars bursting behind my lids.

“You will obey me, wife,” he seethed, his mouth an inch away, snarling in my ear. “You are my property. Everything about you I own now.” He reached down, cupping his hand between my legs crudely. “And soon with my cum inside you and my mark on you, the whole world will know I possess the White Raven.” Tears burned in my throat, his other hand pressing my skull against the stone so hard I could feel it slice into my scalp. “Don’t ever embarrass me again in front of people.” He struck my head against the stone again. “You got that?”

“Your majesty?” A man’s voice came through, a twinge of worry threaded in it. “It’s nearing three a.m. . . .”

Huffing through his nose, King Helvig stepped back, releasing me. His glower remained on me as I slumped against the side, biting back the sob choking my throat.

“Yes.” He rolled back his shoulders, his attention out to the crowd, motioning for someone. “Let’s start the ritual.”

His thralls grouped around the stairs as he rose out of the spring, wrapping him in his robe. Sölvi was the one who had kept the king supplied with drink last night. Now he glanced at me with an almost imperceptible nod. He had interrupted on purpose. It was the second time he had saved me from King Helvig’s abuse.

Meya motioned for me to follow, a frown on her face, reminding me more and more of Elvina. It wasn’t they were alike; it was because both women understood who they answered to, who was in charge. And it wasn’t me.

The drums started again as I ascended out of the water. Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I numbly stood like a doll while Meya and Hedda dropped the sheath over me, the fabric clinging to my wet body, my bones shivering not from the cold, but from fear.

My chest and throat hummed with energy, wrapping around my throat like I could feel his hand on me, feel his attention somewhere close by, dominating everything.

“I feel your every fucking breath. I’m so aware of you, I can’t fucking think straight. And I want it to end. I didn’t know it would be like this.”

Would I no longer feel Onyx or care about him, once the king replaced his tattoo? It was something I desired—needed—because I no longer wanted to feel this link to him. To be consumed with thoughts of him even though he was my enemy. It was safer for me if there was nothing to tie us together, no connection that let him feel me. I needed to be free of all bindings if I wanted to survive.

Following the king, my handmaidens escorted me up to the platform, handing me over to two huge, broad figures. Dressed in black robes, faces covered in full black masks, their daunting presence on either side of me twisted dread into my bones. Leading me to the altar, the king took a seat on the charcoal-black throne positioned on the dais. A smaller one was placed next to his.

My seat. The one marked for the White Raven, soon to be the Night Queen.

Morrigan hummed and sang up to the sky, her arms stretched up, calling on Huginn and Muninn. Rune stones were spread out before her, along with an inkwell, needles, blades, and jars holding items I couldn’t identify. Candles blazed over the altar, dripping fresh wax, coating the slab in a sheen. Everything sparkled like the moon and stars, as though we had stolen them and shined them in mockery back at the empty heavens.