Figures move around me in the dark. Hands caress my skin softly as voices speak in hushed tones. I smell herbs. I smell incense. I feel pain, unreal. Inside my chest. In my stomach. In my very bones.
Unconsciousness nips at me and I heed its call, needing not to feel anything.
It all had to be a bad dream.
Somewhere I am still asleep and my Prince is still alive. So, I head to that silent place instead, not wanting to exist in a world filled with pain anymore.
**
I jolt upright with a gasp and a name on my lips. "Ceasar."
Hands clutch at my sides and I meet my mother's light grey gaze, soft with sorrow. "Gwen," she whispers softly and clutches my hand tighter. There are guards flanking the doors. My sisters huddle in the corner, watching me softly with worry. "They couldn't…"
My body begins trembling. Pain erupts again in my centre, earning a cry from me. It is anguish and rage and pain. Something leaks from my middle and I watch the soft blue cloth that I have been changed into get drenched with blood.
"No," I breathe, drawing up the garment and touching the dampness between my legs. "No. No!" I begin screaming.
Someone is yelling for the doctor.
My gaze carries to my mother's and she is saying something to me. She is sitting on the bed by me, clutching me to her chest, rocking me back and forth and telling me I'll be alright. That everything will be fine.
False promises.
Nothing is alright. Nothing will ever be alright again.
**
I lost my baby.
They say I slept for three weeks. By which time a funeral had been held across the nation. My husband's funeral was a week before then. Laid to rest along with his eight brothers who had died in the attack by the rogues.
Only one of the Vampyr princes survived. The last one. He hadn't even been at the wedding. Rumors had it he was in the maid's quarters, balls and fangs deep in the Head Chef when it happened. I despised him for living. He was the most useless, most cruel, and most despicable of the ten Princes. Ceaser was the most wonderful man I knew.
Why couldn't he have died instead and my Caesar lived?
I bury the thought and beg the goddess for forgiveness as I take a seat by my mother's side on the large table. It is the first appearance I make in court in a year. Everyone's watching me with pity, with judgement. They whisper that I look like a wraith. It didn't help that I lost weight and cannot find my appetite anymore. It doesn't help that I find no joy in the world. Or see any colors or life in anything.
It also doesn't help that they will not let me die and join Ceaser.
My wrists are lined with mark after mark from where I have slit my wrists and watched myself bleed out. And in the moments where I feel my consciousness slip from me, someone always makes it their job to find me. Couldn't they tell? That I had nothing left to live for?
Everyone watches my fingers close around the fork. Father in particular watches with eagle sharp eyes as I take the first bite of food. It tastes like ash.
"It has been finalized," Father says in the manner of speaking, alerting everyone's attention to him. "To keep the truce well standing between our families, King Beron has agreed that traditions be adhered to." His eyes flick to mine and something about the way the emerald green of them fixates on me makes me stiff. "Prince Ruin will take you as his wife."
In the last year since the death of the princes, the world has fallen into chaos and war once more. The Vampyrs believe we had a hand in it, considering we had more to lose than gain from this alliance, more so because the rogues got into the event as a part of our guests. The war continued like it never stopped. I'd expected another alliance, sooner or later to keep the peace.
I just didn't expect that I would be offered up like a trussed cow. Especially after… everything.
Astrid, my oldest sister, jumps to her feet, the chair scraping along the floors. "You cannot possibly be serious, Father."
He shoots her a stern gaze that could freeze the Arctic over. "Sit down."
Astrid's eyes are wide, seeking out mother's for help. But Mother has never been one to speak against Father. She may be his Luna Queen, but when it came to opposing father, she has never had the backbone to do so. So it doesn't surprise me when she glances away.
Astrid's lips part and anger shines in her eyes as she ignores the order. She points at me. "Look at her, Father! Guinevere isn't well! You think they'll care enough about her well being in that castle? And you've heard about all the shit Prince Ruin does. He is the worst decision you can possibly make for her right now! Ceaser isn't even cold in his grave yet and you're already trying to sell her off!"
The aura shifts in the room, growing oppressively heavy and tearing down the air so that we all choke without it. "Mind your tongue, girl," Father warns. "Or I will cut it out of you. Now, sit."
Begrudgingly, she sits. Penelope shifts uncomfortably on my other side, her fingers threading through mine in some sense of solidarity, but I feel nothing. I stare at the knife on the side of my tray. Perhaps I could slit my throat with it and just be done with it all.
As if reading my thoughts, my father motions the maid towards me and everything breakable is cleared from my side of the table, forcing me to partake in the conversation.
"As the law bids," Father says, eyes bearing holes into each one of us. "In the passing of a brother, his belongings, as well as his wife, will be owned by his brother to do with as he pleases."
"But the vows weren't even completed," Penelope argues quietly.
Father's lips thin with disapproval. "It means nothing. In the eyes of the people, she was Ceaser's woman. That much was clear when she let him between her legs before the wedding. Best they think her his wife rather than his whore. Either way, she belongs to the Vampyrs now as their daughter-in-law." To me he says, "Prince Ruin will collect you tomorrow."
Collect me. Like I am property.
"Thaddeus," Mother says. "You do not think it too soon--"
"It's been a year," he says sternly and with finality. Again, those eyes land on me. "Wallow in grief if you must but you have duties that must be fulfilled." He pauses to let the words sink in. "You will bear him a son and secure your place as Queen. Considering how easily they are ambushed and killed, perhaps, three sons will be best. After which you can live however you please, but no sooner."
Brielle shoves to her feet from where she sits beside Astrid. "Let me go in her stead--"
"Nonsense." Father's voice booms off the walls even if he isn't yelling. The table rattles and shudders as his eyes glitter with icy rage. Penelope flinches, her hands squeezing mine. "Three of you have prior engagements, and besides, Genevieve is already–"
"Already what?"
Everyone turns to me, expressing several levels of shock. It's the first time I've spoken in a year. My brows furrow, my voice raw from being unused. "Already ruined? Used? Why sacrifice anyone else when you can just give up the sullied one?" A spark of rage lights inside me. "I will not marry Prince Ruin. You will have to kill me to wed me to my dead mate's brother."
The next morning, I learn what my words are worth. Nothing. My protests, my screams, my wishes--ignored.
They bind my wrists, straighten my hair, and wrap me in royal blue silk as if that made the ugliness of the situation any less disgusting.
And then they deliver me--bound and bowed--to Prince Ruin like a sacrifice.