Chapter 10
A moment later, the servants were sent away, leaving Ejnar in private with Elfreda. He could feel her intense scrutiny, and a joyless chuckle escaped him.
“You’re going to stare a hole right through me.”
The comment hit its mark instantly; her skin stained a deep crimson, particularly on her left side where the color was most vivid.
He found the sight repulsive. It wasn’t merely the mark on her face that bothered him, but her entire presence.
The memory of Serena’s palm striking Elfreda with such force flashed in his mind, making him scowl. Regardless of her origins, she was now the sovereign of his realm. For Serena, a mere Princess of Makaeri, to treat her with such blatant disregard was a slap in the face to his own crown.
And yet…
“I was just feeling drowsy and wanted to snap out of it…”
The lie was pathetic.
He was stunned by the sheer stupidity of the claim. What was her angle? Was she so desperate to maintain the facade of a harmonious political union that she would swallow her pride? Or was she simply too mortified to admit the level of animosity she faced from her own kin?
Just as the weight of her denial began to stifle him, she threw a sharp remark his way.
“If you’ve already decided I’m lying, there is nothing I can do to convince you.”
She was digging in her heels, refusing to be transparent. A wave of irritation washed over him.
He wondered why he was even wasting his energy on this. As she pointed out, it wasn’t his concern. He had been the sole observer of the truth, so no one else would know the difference.
It would be simpler to let the matter drop into silence.
He had no interest in her personal tragedies or her family dynamics. He knew he shouldn’t care, and he certainly didn’t want to. Ejnar felt a surge of self-loathing for even involving himself in her life. He couldn’t forget the blood on the hands of her people—the ones who had slaughtered his kin.
The memory of his uncle and cousin…
“Please, forgive me.”
Her soft voice pulled him back from the brink of his dark thoughts.
Elfreda stood before him with her gaze fixed on the floor, and the sight made him feel claustrophobic. It didn’t matter how she got here; a woman holding the title of Queen of Machi had no business looking so defeated. She was his wife, the highest-ranking woman in the land.
He couldn’t tolerate her dragging the dignity of the crown through the dirt. Ejnar moved toward her with purpose, reaching out to tilt her head back.
“A sovereign must never be so quick to lower her head.”
She looked up at him, her expression a cocktail of shock and terror, and he felt a strange constriction in his lungs. It was a foreign sensation. Her shimmering eyes, the pallor of her skin, the way her breath hitched—it hit him like a cloying, heavy fragrance that made his head swim.
“Why have you come here…?”
“I told you before. Is a groom’s presence in his wife’s chambers on their first night together really such a mystery?”
“No, but… I was under the impression you wouldn’t show up.”
“What gave you that idea?”
“Because of the hatred you feel for me.”
“I hate you?”
“Am I… mistaken?”
She searched his face, a flicker of something like optimism in her eyes.
Ejnar felt a jarring thud in his chest. Before he could process the feeling, a mental haze settled over him. He stared her down for a long time, his eyes narrowing as his pulse began to race, the heat of his blood surging through his veins.
A heavy pressure began to coil in his gut.
“…You seem to have a firm grasp on reality,” he eventually replied, finding the words that suited their dynamic. “Liking you is an impossibility for me.”
“Of course,” she whispered, a shadow of regret crossing her features.
He couldn’t tell if she was a skilled actress or if the hurt was real. If it was a performance, she was bold; if it was genuine, she was delusional. Did she honestly believe her lineage—being the flesh and blood of the butcher Gunnar—wouldn’t earn her his loathing?
Watching her maintain that facade of purity only fueled his resentment. The internal fire he felt was spreading, moving from his core down to his hips.
“In that case… perhaps it is best if you leave. The political requirements have been met by your presence this far—”
There was nothing out of the ordinary about the path this was taking.
Without warning, Ejnar lunged forward, capturing her shaking lips with his own.
“Ah…!”
She went rigid at the contact, but he showed no mercy, exploring her mouth with a predatory intensity. Just as her grandfather had laid waste to everything in his path, Ejnar claimed every inch of her.
“Ah, ha…!”
The way she gasped for air and seemed to struggle was almost comical. She played the part of the untouched, naive girl perfectly. It was a disgusting performance, especially given the stories of her talent for manipulation and charm.
He admired the dedication to the act, but it was futile.
Neither she nor her scheming father would get the upper hand here.
Driven by a fever that was indistinguishable from rage, Ejnar gave her no quarter. He stayed glued to her mouth, refusing to break the connection for even a second. The soft, broken sounds she made only served to stoke the embers of his temper.
When he finally broke the kiss, his voice was like ice, a sharp contrast to the heat of the moment.
“If a simple kiss leaves you this rattled, how do you expect to endure the rest of the night?”
“Your Majesty…”
“Sharing a bed with you isn’t a difficult task for me.”
He repeated the thought to himself, then spoke again.
“There is no point in keeping up a charade for the public.”
He saw no reason to deny himself the use of her body. In fact, he intended to proceed, letting her family believe their plan was working perfectly. The sting of betrayal was always sharper when built on a foundation of false hope.
He knew that pain intimately.
The memory of his uncle and cousin returning as nothing but severed heads flashed through his mind, recalling the day his world shattered into a million jagged pieces of grief.
He would ensure she felt that same destruction. He would let her think she was securing her power, perhaps even let her believe she carried his heir, only to rip the rug out from under her when the time was right.
He was curious to see if she could maintain that saintly expression when her world collapsed. Would she stay “innocent,” or would the venom finally come out?
He found himself wanting to find out immediately.
“However, if this is against your will, speak up. I won’t use force.”
He was perfectly willing to walk out the door right then.
“Your Majesty.”
A frantic hand caught his sleeve, stopping him. The desperation in her eyes was almost pathetic. Of course she couldn’t let him leave; she couldn’t risk the shame of a cold wedding night, nor the loss of a chance to produce a child.
“Stay.”
The sugary sweetness of her voice made his blood boil.
“Please don’t g— Ah!”
He spun back around, his mouth crashing into hers once more. Her fumbling, clumsy response felt like another layer of her lies.
He deepened the kiss with a savage hunger, forcing her back toward the mattress. The sheer revulsion he felt at touching the descendant of his greatest foe manifested as a scorching physical heat. He shoved her down onto the silk and hovered over her.
He wanted this over with quickly.
He was convinced that this final act was the only thing she truly desired.
His eyes locked onto the pale, protected skin of her throat. A primal, violent instinct surged within him, a desire to mark her and see her bleed. He didn’t hold back. Ejnar pressed his face into the side of her neck, the sugary aroma of her skin clouding his judgment.
He wondered if this was some exotic Makaeri scent, something laced with musk to dull a man’s senses.
That had to be it. Why else would he feel so unhinged?
He bit down hard on her shoulder, and the low, trembling moan she released sent a jolt of dark satisfaction through him. He moved to claim more of her, his movements becoming more aggressive.
Then, Elfreda’s fingers brushed through his hair, a gentle, almost tender gesture.
The softness of the touch hit him like a physical blow, freezing him in place.
