Chapter 16
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Arren's shadows pushed open the door and the room erupted in hushed whispers. Isilla stood, frozen in place by the sight of the throne room. Ahead of her, down a path created by rows of seats, each one occupied by a member of the Dark court sat the throne of the Mad King.
Smoke stone darkened and twisted into figures as it came closer to the King's seat. People in dark clothes held lamps on poles, the light flickering as they gently swung. The figures in the stone moved like ghosts, their faces seemed to be watching her. A tendril of shadow wrapped around her finger and she turned her focus to Arren, already a few steps ahead of her. Move, she thought, this is all to make you afraid, it's just a trick of the light.
She took a slow step forward. Her red gown seemed bright in comparison to the rest of the court and yet she still felt under dressed. The fine fabric of their clothing apparent, even to her untrained eye. Their jewels sparkled in the swaying light.
Her attention turned back to the throne as she neared it. The power that rolled from it unmistakable. The king's darkness pooled around his feet and down the steps to the floor, thick tentacles of nightmares. Isilla clasped her hands in front of her, startled by the resemblance of the man that sat before her, wrapped in stately robes, and her husband. King Ero shared all of his same facial features. A few creases around his eyes and mouth, some silver streaks in his hair. The eyes were the one, marked difference.
Where Arren's eyes were green flecked with deep brown his father's held no resemblance. Covered in shadow, the thick darkness twisted and glowed with a sick purple light. As Arren's had in that brief moment on their wedding night.Her breathing quickened and she dug her fingernails into her palm to calm her rising fear.
Behind the king stood Lehan, smiling, his own eyes holding the look of a cat who has just gotten into some cream.
She turned to her husband but was met with a wall. His face emotionless, lips straight, eyes empty.
He bowed low, "Father, I would like to present my wife. The Princess Isilla."
She stared at the ground and followed his example, spreading her skirts as was proper and dipping her head. When she came up she kept her eyes down. She focused on the shifting patterns of shadow under her feet. Anything not to look into his eyes.
"I know you," the king said softly. It felt as if a bird were trapped in her chest, its fragile wings beating against her. At her feet Arren's shadows were beginning to surround her. Thin, but solid, traveling under her skirts, wrapping themselves around her ankles.
"You would have seen her portrait I think, Father. The engagement has been in the works for some time," he said, his voice cold and final.
"Only she was meant to be my wife," Lehan added.
"No," Ero said thoughtfully, "I know her from somewhere else. Take down your hair girl."
She could feel Arren's eyes on her now. Her hands felt like ice as she began to pull the braid apart. The court giggled as her shock of soft red hair came undone and floated around her head. There were whispers, too low for her to follow the words. She blushed, swallowing nervous breaths, keeping her eyes on the carpet.
"Look at me," Ero ordered.
Her breathing quickened as she looked up at the king. I won't be afraid, she thought forcing the bird in her chest to be still for just a moment, just long enough to give him what he wanted.
He leaned forward in his chair, his great robes moving with him. "You have eyes of glass," he whispered, "I saw you in my dream. What were you doing there? What are you?"
"Father you saw her portrait. I had a reproduction sent to you weeks before she arrived. Perhaps all of this new business with the Light Realm has stirred the memory. But if you did see her, it means nothing. She is something called a dreamweaver. They can travel through dreams. It is harmless."
"Harmless? Is that what they told you," he laughed. "I knew another like her, things like her used to walk in this realm too. She was a beautiful thing who could make the darkest fears play in all your dreams. She tried to drive my father to madness and he strangled her with his own hands." He thought for a moment, "She will be executed immediately."
Panic shot through her, Arren's shadows wrapped themselves around her protectively.
"Impossible," he said evenly, his voice steady, "She cannot be executed. She is a member of the royal family. By marriage but it is all the same."
The crowd began to whisper among themselves. Arren had openly defied his father.
"You dare go against my order?" Ero asked, amused more than angry.
"I would never, Father. However, it is a law that has been in effect for centuries. She is my wife. The marriage was consummated, her virtue proven. I will have her locked up if you would like but she cannot be killed. That is a crime."
Her heart pounded in her chest as the king chuckled. "For you, of all people, to lecture anyone on crimes. Of course, you are right. My son, always so well versed on the letter and rule of our laws. But a fool all the same. We breathe the power of nightmares. You don't think that this little dreamweaver was sent to disrupt that?"
"I think," Arren said slowly, "That you are placing more importance on a parlor trick than what is necessary."
The King smiled, a cruel and cold action on his face, "Keep your little wife if you must. I'll allow it for now. I will kill her myself when the time comes."
"But Father," Lehan said, leaning over the throne, set on getting his way, "How do we know the marriage was legitimate? That my brother didn't take pity on her a second time and help her fake the loss of her virtue?"
He turned, a sick smile on his face, "After all, they kept so many other things from us and we should really be sure before the official ceremony."
Isilla twisted her skirts in her hands.
"You will find no mark on her," Arren said slowly.
"Well," Lehan said stepping down from his place by the throne, "you won't mind letting the court examine her then. I'm invoking my official right as a council member verify that this marriage was sound. "
"Not at all," Arren's voice was even, "Hold very still, Isilla."
She didn't have time to do otherwise. The shadows whipped around her, pulling at the fabric of the dress. Suddenly she was bare save for her stockings. Even her undergarments had been reduced to tatters that sat in a pile at her feet.
The blush extended from her cheeks to her chest. She eyes widened and she looked down quickly as goosebumps rose on her skin, kissed into existence by the cold air on her newly bare skin. Behind her, the court's whispers had gotten louder, her shame entertaining them.
"Will you allow me, dear brother?" Lehan asked mocking.
"Be quick," Arren said, a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.
Lehan reached for her, his fingers touching her breasts not unlike he had in the hall, taking his time to trace a line over the skin in the guise of searching for an injury. His fingers traced her body slowly, finding the marks on her arm from the maid.
"Those are a bit fresh don't you think?" Arren asked.
It's dark, she thought as the light from the lamps dimmed around her.
Lehan smiled and continued. Isilla bit back tears and fought the urge to break away from him, to run. She looked at Arren, without turning her head. His eyes were downcast, his expression blank but his fingers rubbed the thumb he had cut.
Lehan's hands moved from her torso to her legs, slipping between them. He parted her thighs and moved his hand up, looking for a scar by touch, any scar.
He pulled his fingers away, tracing them up her body, his knuckles passing over her sex, making her jump and gasp. She felt violated, his hands gone, the memory of their touch, greasy and cold still there, crawling all over her.
"My brother probably has no idea what to do with you," he said teasingly. He opened his mouth to say something else but a shadow moved in the corners of her eyes. Isilla looked away from Lehan, turning her head to face her husband completely. Heavy shadows creeped across the ceiling, snuffing out swinging lamps, blocking the court completely. The King sat, his cheek resting against his hand watching the scene.
"You've upset him, Lehan. Enough with your games," Ero's voice was light in the heavy atmosphere of the room.
"As you can see brother, she is unmarred. Do you intend to go further with this?" the hard edge in Arren's voice had turned into something else, something daker and more dangerous.
The room cast in almost total darkness, as if there was no one else in the world save for them. The complaints of the court were muffled as if they were all speaking through wool. Only the Royal family remained clear.
"No brother," he said stepping away, "I think that we have gathered all the information we need. Please, cover your very virtuous wife up."
Arren pulled off his jacket in quick movements. Isilla looked down at the floor again, clasping her hands in front of her to stop them from shaking. The jacket felt soft against her shoulders and she pulled it shut, shivering from cold and shame.
He looked back at his father, "I think that my wife has had enough of court today. We will take our leave. Now."
"I did not dismiss you," the King said slowly, his eyes lingering on her.
"I do not care," Arren said evenly, the shadows swallowing them both.
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Arren's shadows pushed open the door and the room erupted in hushed whispers. Isilla stood, frozen in place by the sight of the throne room. Ahead of her, down a path created by rows of seats, each one occupied by a member of the Dark court sat the throne of the Mad King.
Smoke stone darkened and twisted into figures as it came closer to the King's seat. People in dark clothes held lamps on poles, the light flickering as they gently swung. The figures in the stone moved like ghosts, their faces seemed to be watching her. A tendril of shadow wrapped around her finger and she turned her focus to Arren, already a few steps ahead of her. Move, she thought, this is all to make you afraid, it's just a trick of the light.
She took a slow step forward. Her red gown seemed bright in comparison to the rest of the court and yet she still felt under dressed. The fine fabric of their clothing apparent, even to her untrained eye. Their jewels sparkled in the swaying light.
Her attention turned back to the throne as she neared it. The power that rolled from it unmistakable. The king's darkness pooled around his feet and down the steps to the floor, thick tentacles of nightmares. Isilla clasped her hands in front of her, startled by the resemblance of the man that sat before her, wrapped in stately robes, and her husband. King Ero shared all of his same facial features. A few creases around his eyes and mouth, some silver streaks in his hair. The eyes were the one, marked difference.
Where Arren's eyes were green flecked with deep brown his father's held no resemblance. Covered in shadow, the thick darkness twisted and glowed with a sick purple light. As Arren's had in that brief moment on their wedding night.Her breathing quickened and she dug her fingernails into her palm to calm her rising fear.
Behind the king stood Lehan, smiling, his own eyes holding the look of a cat who has just gotten into some cream.
She turned to her husband but was met with a wall. His face emotionless, lips straight, eyes empty.
He bowed low, "Father, I would like to present my wife. The Princess Isilla."
She stared at the ground and followed his example, spreading her skirts as was proper and dipping her head. When she came up she kept her eyes down. She focused on the shifting patterns of shadow under her feet. Anything not to look into his eyes.
"I know you," the king said softly. It felt as if a bird were trapped in her chest, its fragile wings beating against her. At her feet Arren's shadows were beginning to surround her. Thin, but solid, traveling under her skirts, wrapping themselves around her ankles.
"You would have seen her portrait I think, Father. The engagement has been in the works for some time," he said, his voice cold and final.
"Only she was meant to be my wife," Lehan added.
"No," Ero said thoughtfully, "I know her from somewhere else. Take down your hair girl."
She could feel Arren's eyes on her now. Her hands felt like ice as she began to pull the braid apart. The court giggled as her shock of soft red hair came undone and floated around her head. There were whispers, too low for her to follow the words. She blushed, swallowing nervous breaths, keeping her eyes on the carpet.
"Look at me," Ero ordered.
Her breathing quickened as she looked up at the king. I won't be afraid, she thought forcing the bird in her chest to be still for just a moment, just long enough to give him what he wanted.
He leaned forward in his chair, his great robes moving with him. "You have eyes of glass," he whispered, "I saw you in my dream. What were you doing there? What are you?"
"Father you saw her portrait. I had a reproduction sent to you weeks before she arrived. Perhaps all of this new business with the Light Realm has stirred the memory. But if you did see her, it means nothing. She is something called a dreamweaver. They can travel through dreams. It is harmless."
"Harmless? Is that what they told you," he laughed. "I knew another like her, things like her used to walk in this realm too. She was a beautiful thing who could make the darkest fears play in all your dreams. She tried to drive my father to madness and he strangled her with his own hands." He thought for a moment, "She will be executed immediately."
Panic shot through her, Arren's shadows wrapped themselves around her protectively.
"Impossible," he said evenly, his voice steady, "She cannot be executed. She is a member of the royal family. By marriage but it is all the same."
The crowd began to whisper among themselves. Arren had openly defied his father.
"You dare go against my order?" Ero asked, amused more than angry.
"I would never, Father. However, it is a law that has been in effect for centuries. She is my wife. The marriage was consummated, her virtue proven. I will have her locked up if you would like but she cannot be killed. That is a crime."
Her heart pounded in her chest as the king chuckled. "For you, of all people, to lecture anyone on crimes. Of course, you are right. My son, always so well versed on the letter and rule of our laws. But a fool all the same. We breathe the power of nightmares. You don't think that this little dreamweaver was sent to disrupt that?"
"I think," Arren said slowly, "That you are placing more importance on a parlor trick than what is necessary."
The King smiled, a cruel and cold action on his face, "Keep your little wife if you must. I'll allow it for now. I will kill her myself when the time comes."
"But Father," Lehan said, leaning over the throne, set on getting his way, "How do we know the marriage was legitimate? That my brother didn't take pity on her a second time and help her fake the loss of her virtue?"
He turned, a sick smile on his face, "After all, they kept so many other things from us and we should really be sure before the official ceremony."
Isilla twisted her skirts in her hands.
"You will find no mark on her," Arren said slowly.
"Well," Lehan said stepping down from his place by the throne, "you won't mind letting the court examine her then. I'm invoking my official right as a council member verify that this marriage was sound. "
"Not at all," Arren's voice was even, "Hold very still, Isilla."
She didn't have time to do otherwise. The shadows whipped around her, pulling at the fabric of the dress. Suddenly she was bare save for her stockings. Even her undergarments had been reduced to tatters that sat in a pile at her feet.
The blush extended from her cheeks to her chest. She eyes widened and she looked down quickly as goosebumps rose on her skin, kissed into existence by the cold air on her newly bare skin. Behind her, the court's whispers had gotten louder, her shame entertaining them.
"Will you allow me, dear brother?" Lehan asked mocking.
"Be quick," Arren said, a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.
Lehan reached for her, his fingers touching her breasts not unlike he had in the hall, taking his time to trace a line over the skin in the guise of searching for an injury. His fingers traced her body slowly, finding the marks on her arm from the maid.
"Those are a bit fresh don't you think?" Arren asked.
It's dark, she thought as the light from the lamps dimmed around her.
Lehan smiled and continued. Isilla bit back tears and fought the urge to break away from him, to run. She looked at Arren, without turning her head. His eyes were downcast, his expression blank but his fingers rubbed the thumb he had cut.
Lehan's hands moved from her torso to her legs, slipping between them. He parted her thighs and moved his hand up, looking for a scar by touch, any scar.
He pulled his fingers away, tracing them up her body, his knuckles passing over her sex, making her jump and gasp. She felt violated, his hands gone, the memory of their touch, greasy and cold still there, crawling all over her.
"My brother probably has no idea what to do with you," he said teasingly. He opened his mouth to say something else but a shadow moved in the corners of her eyes. Isilla looked away from Lehan, turning her head to face her husband completely. Heavy shadows creeped across the ceiling, snuffing out swinging lamps, blocking the court completely. The King sat, his cheek resting against his hand watching the scene.
"You've upset him, Lehan. Enough with your games," Ero's voice was light in the heavy atmosphere of the room.
"As you can see brother, she is unmarred. Do you intend to go further with this?" the hard edge in Arren's voice had turned into something else, something daker and more dangerous.
The room cast in almost total darkness, as if there was no one else in the world save for them. The complaints of the court were muffled as if they were all speaking through wool. Only the Royal family remained clear.
"No brother," he said stepping away, "I think that we have gathered all the information we need. Please, cover your very virtuous wife up."
Arren pulled off his jacket in quick movements. Isilla looked down at the floor again, clasping her hands in front of her to stop them from shaking. The jacket felt soft against her shoulders and she pulled it shut, shivering from cold and shame.
He looked back at his father, "I think that my wife has had enough of court today. We will take our leave. Now."
"I did not dismiss you," the King said slowly, his eyes lingering on her.
"I do not care," Arren said evenly, the shadows swallowing them both.
Arren's shadows pushed open the door and the room erupted in hushed whispers. Isilla stood, frozen in place by the sight of the throne room. Ahead of her, down a path created by rows of seats, each one occupied by a member of the Dark court sat the throne of the Mad King.Smoke stone darkened and twisted into figures as it came closer to the King's seat. People in dark clothes held lamps on poles, the light flickering as they gently swung. The figures in the stone moved like ghosts, their faces seemed to be watching her. A tendril of shadow wrapped around her finger and she turned her focus to Arren, already a few steps ahead of her. Move, she thought, this is all to make you afraid, it's just a trick of the light.She took a slow step forward. Her red gown seemed bright in comparison to the rest of the court and yet she still felt under dressed. The fine fabric of their clothing apparent, even to her untrained eye. Their jewels sparkled in the swaying light.Her attention turned back to the throne as she neared it. The power that rolled from it unmistakable. The king's darkness pooled around his feet and down the steps to the floor, thick tentacles of nightmares. Isilla clasped her hands in front of her, startled by the resemblance of the man that sat before her, wrapped in stately robes, and her husband. King Ero shared all of his same facial features. A few creases around his eyes and mouth, some silver streaks in his hair. The eyes were the one, marked difference.Where Arren's eyes were green flecked with deep brown his father's held no resemblance. Covered in shadow, the thick darkness twisted and glowed with a sick purple light. As Arren's had in that brief moment on their wedding night.Her breathing quickened and she dug her fingernails into her palm to calm her rising fear.Behind the king stood Lehan, smiling, his own eyes holding the look of a cat who has just gotten into some cream.She turned to her husband but was met with a wall. His face emotionless, lips straight, eyes empty.He bowed low, "Father, I would like to present my wife. The Princess Isilla."She stared at the ground and followed his example, spreading her skirts as was proper and dipping her head. When she came up she kept her eyes down. She focused on the shifting patterns of shadow under her feet. Anything not to look into his eyes."I know you," the king said softly. It felt as if a bird were trapped in her chest, its fragile wings beating against her. At her feet Arren's shadows were beginning to surround her. Thin, but solid, traveling under her skirts, wrapping themselves around her ankles."You would have seen her portrait I think, Father. The engagement has been in the works for some time," he said, his voice cold and final."Only she was meant to be my wife," Lehan added."No," Ero said thoughtfully, "I know her from somewhere else. Take down your hair girl."She could feel Arren's eyes on her now. Her hands felt like ice as she began to pull the braid apart. The court giggled as her shock of soft red hair came undone and floated around her head. There were whispers, too low for her to follow the words. She blushed, swallowing nervous breaths, keeping her eyes on the carpet."Look at me," Ero ordered.Her breathing quickened as she looked up at the king. I won't be afraid, she thought forcing the bird in her chest to be still for just a moment, just long enough to give him what he wanted.He leaned forward in his chair, his great robes moving with him. "You have eyes of glass," he whispered, "I saw you in my dream. What were you doing there? What are you?""Father you saw her portrait. I had a reproduction sent to you weeks before she arrived. Perhaps all of this new business with the Light Realm has stirred the memory. But if you did see her, it means nothing. She is something called a dreamweaver. They can travel through dreams. It is harmless.""Harmless? Is that what they told you," he laughed. "I knew another like her, things like her used to walk in this realm too. She was a beautiful thing who could make the darkest fears play in all your dreams. She tried to drive my father to madness and he strangled her with his own hands." He thought for a moment, "She will be executed immediately."Panic shot through her, Arren's shadows wrapped themselves around her protectively."Impossible," he said evenly, his voice steady, "She cannot be executed. She is a member of the royal family. By marriage but it is all the same."The crowd began to whisper among themselves. Arren had openly defied his father."You dare go against my order?" Ero asked, amused more than angry."I would never, Father. However, it is a law that has been in effect for centuries. She is my wife. The marriage was consummated, her virtue proven. I will have her locked up if you would like but she cannot be killed. That is a crime."Her heart pounded in her chest as the king chuckled. "For you, of all people, to lecture anyone on crimes. Of course, you are right. My son, always so well versed on the letter and rule of our laws. But a fool all the same. We breathe the power of nightmares. You don't think that this little dreamweaver was sent to disrupt that?""I think," Arren said slowly, "That you are placing more importance on a parlor trick than what is necessary."The King smiled, a cruel and cold action on his face, "Keep your little wife if you must. I'll allow it for now. I will kill her myself when the time comes.""But Father," Lehan said, leaning over the throne, set on getting his way, "How do we know the marriage was legitimate? That my brother didn't take pity on her a second time and help her fake the loss of her virtue?"He turned, a sick smile on his face, "After all, they kept so many other things from us and we should really be sure before the official ceremony."Isilla twisted her skirts in her hands."You will find no mark on her," Arren said slowly."Well," Lehan said stepping down from his place by the throne, "you won't mind letting the court examine her then. I'm invoking my official right as a council member verify that this marriage was sound. ""Not at all," Arren's voice was even, "Hold very still, Isilla."She didn't have time to do otherwise. The shadows whipped around her, pulling at the fabric of the dress. Suddenly she was bare save for her stockings. Even her undergarments had been reduced to tatters that sat in a pile at her feet.The blush extended from her cheeks to her chest. She eyes widened and she looked down quickly as goosebumps rose on her skin, kissed into existence by the cold air on her newly bare skin. Behind her, the court's whispers had gotten louder, her shame entertaining them."Will you allow me, dear brother?" Lehan asked mocking."Be quick," Arren said, a hard edge to his voice that hadn't been there before.Lehan reached for her, his fingers touching her breasts not unlike he had in the hall, taking his time to trace a line over the skin in the guise of searching for an injury. His fingers traced her body slowly, finding the marks on her arm from the maid."Those are a bit fresh don't you think?" Arren asked.It's dark, she thought as the light from the lamps dimmed around her.Lehan smiled and continued. Isilla bit back tears and fought the urge to break away from him, to run. She looked at Arren, without turning her head. His eyes were downcast, his expression blank but his fingers rubbed the thumb he had cut.Lehan's hands moved from her torso to her legs, slipping between them. He parted her thighs and moved his hand up, looking for a scar by touch, any scar.He pulled his fingers away, tracing them up her body, his knuckles passing over her sex, making her jump and gasp. She felt violated, his hands gone, the memory of their touch, greasy and cold still there, crawling all over her."My brother probably has no idea what to do with you," he said teasingly. He opened his mouth to say something else but a shadow moved in the corners of her eyes. Isilla looked away from Lehan, turning her head to face her husband completely. Heavy shadows creeped across the ceiling, snuffing out swinging lamps, blocking the court completely. The King sat, his cheek resting against his hand watching the scene."You've upset him, Lehan. Enough with your games," Ero's voice was light in the heavy atmosphere of the room."As you can see brother, she is unmarred. Do you intend to go further with this?" the hard edge in Arren's voice had turned into something else, something daker and more dangerous.The room cast in almost total darkness, as if there was no one else in the world save for them. The complaints of the court were muffled as if they were all speaking through wool. Only the Royal family remained clear."No brother," he said stepping away, "I think that we have gathered all the information we need. Please, cover your very virtuous wife up."Arren pulled off his jacket in quick movements. Isilla looked down at the floor again, clasping her hands in front of her to stop them from shaking. The jacket felt soft against her shoulders and she pulled it shut, shivering from cold and shame.He looked back at his father, "I think that my wife has had enough of court today. We will take our leave. Now.""I did not dismiss you," the King said slowly, his eyes lingering on her."I do not care," Arren said evenly, the shadows swallowing them both.
