Bound by Curse

A Good Man

Draven's POV

Her face stayed in my head, white and shocked, her eyes full of tears.

Anger burned in my chest like fire. I pulled on my shirt and walked out of my room with my jaw tight.

"Your Majesty," a guard said, and quickly stepped aside.

I did not answer. I walked down the hall until I reached her door. I did not knock.

She was standing by the window. She spun around, and her hand flew to her chest.

"How dare you," I said.

Her eyes widened. Then they hardened. "How dare I?"

"You walked into my room. You opened my door without permission."

"That is our bedroom!" Her voice shook, but she did not back away. "I am your wife. I am your queen. I have every right to walk in."

"You have no right."

"And you have no respect!" Her hands were curled into fists. "You do not respect me. You do not respect our marriage. You brought another woman into our bedroom, and you want to blame me?"

Something hot and wild rose inside me. I crossed the room in three steps and caught her arm.

"Listen to me." My voice dropped low. "No one enters my room without my permission. No one. Not a servant, not a lord, not even you."

"Let go of me."

"Do you think you have power over me because you are now queen? Don’t you ever do this again.”

"You are hurting me!"

She pressed her lips together. Her whole body was shaking.

I tightened my grip and I squeezed harder. “I said don’t you ever try this again, did you hear me.”

She cried out, and tears ran down her face. Her knees bent a little from the pain. Finally she nodded, once, hard and furious, her eyes burning into mine.

I let go.

She stumbled back and held her arm to her chest. I saw red marks on her skin where my fingers had been. For one second, my stomach turned.

I pushed that feeling away.

"Remember who you are in this house," I said coldly. "Nothing more."

I walked out. Behind me, I heard her sob, one sharp sound, quickly covered by her hand.

My hands were shaking when I reached my own door.

***

The woman was still on my bed, waiting. She sat up and held the sheet to her chest. Her smile was soft and sweet.

"My king," she said. "You are upset."

"Leave it."

"Come here." She patted the bed. When I did not move, she rose and walked to me slowly, her bare feet silent on the rug. She put her hands on my chest. "Let me help you forget."

"She had no right to come in here."

"No, she did not." Her fingers moved up to my collar. "A cursed girl with a crown too big for her head." She leaned closer, and her breath touched my neck. "She does not know how to please a king. But I do."

She kissed my jaw. Then my throat. Her hands slid under my shirt, warm and sure. I closed my eyes and let her push me back toward the bed. Her mouth found mine, and I kissed her hard and without thought, my hands tangled in her hair. She moaned softly against my lips. The sheets rustled. I pulled her closer, as if I could burn the image of Rebecca's face out of my mind.

It did not work.

"No queen can come into my life and change me," I said against the woman's mouth. My voice was rough. "No woman will tell me what to do."

"Of course not, my king."

"I will deal with her," I said. "When I am done here, I will teach her a lesson she will not forget."

***

Rebecca's POV

I did not want to feel hurt.

That was the foolish part. I had told him I did not want him. I had said it to his face. So why did I feel like something inside me was bleeding?

I pulled my sleeve down over my arm and walked out of my room. I found a small, quiet chamber at the end of the hall and sat down on a wooden chair by the window.

The pain would not stop.

He came after me, I thought. When I heard his steps, I thought he was sorry. I had stood by the window with my heart in my throat, believing he had run after me to say something kind.

Instead, he grabbed me like I was a thief.

I pressed my hand to my mouth. Why was he so cruel? He was the one who broke his own words in a single night. No touching, no love, he had said. Then he lay with another woman before the sun had warmed the walls. I should have been the one shouting. Instead, he made me feel worthless.

I should never have come back to the palace. If I had stayed away, I would be somewhere in the town now, hungry and cold, but I would be free. At least no one there would have called me nothing to my face.

I am nothing to him. He said it himself.

I wiped my cheeks. My hand trembled.

The door opened. Garrick stepped in, huge and silent, his head almost touching the frame. When he saw my face, he stopped. “Oh, Your Majesty, you are here. I will leave at once.” But he didn’t.

"Your Majesty? Are you crying?" He noticed.

"No." I turned my face to the window. "I am fine."

"I heard you cry out in the hall. You do not look fine."

"It is none of your business."

"You are our queen," he said gently. "Your happiness is our business. It is all of ours."

"I can take care of myself."

He stepped closer. His eyes dropped to my arm, where my sleeve had slipped up. His face changed.

"Did he do that to you?"

I pulled my sleeve down quickly, but it was too late. He had seen the dark red marks.

Garrick let out a slow breath. "Your Majesty, I know it looks bad. But he is a good man."

I laughed. It came out broken. "A good man?"

"He..."

"A good man who rejected me on the night of our wedding." I stood up. My voice shook. "A good man who was with another woman on the second day. A good man who left this on my arm."

I pushed up my sleeve and held it out to him. The marks were angry and clear against my pale skin.

"Is this how a good man behaves?"

Garrick stared at it. His jaw moved, but he said nothing.

I did not hide my pain anymore. My eyes were wet, and my breath was shaking. "I never asked for any of this."

"I know." He lowered his eyes. "He does hard things, my lady. Sometimes foolish things. But he is not a bad man. He has not yet accepted that he has a queen. He never wanted one."

"Then why take one?" The words broke out of me. "If he never wanted a wife, why did he bring me here?"

"The kingdom needed a queen."

The words fell on me like cold water.

"So that is all I am," I whispered. "A title. A seat on a throne."

"No, I did not mean..."

"You did." I wiped my face with my hand. "It is all right. At least it is the truth."

"Please." Garrick stepped forward. For a man so big, his voice was very soft. "He only needs time. Time to accept you, and to do his duty toward you. I have known him all my life. I promise you he is good."

"You would say that." I shook my head. "You are his guard. You would defend him against anything."

He did not argue. His shoulders dropped.

"Then at least show your arm to Marta," he said quietly. "She will treat it."

I did not answer. I walked past him and out of the room, with my head down and my chest burning.

***

In the hall, I almost walked into Marta.

"Your Majesty!" She caught my elbow. Then she saw my arm, and her round face went still.

She did not ask me anything. She only took my hand very gently and led me to a small room with a basin and a cabinet of herbs. She sat me down and cleaned my skin with warm water, then spread a cool, sweet-smelling cream over the marks. Her fingers were soft. She never once asked who had done it.

I stared at the wall so I would not cry again.

"There," she said at last, and wrapped a clean cloth around my arm. "It will fade in a few days."

"Thank you, Marta."

"If you need anything, my dear," she said, and held my hand in both of hers, "anything at all, you must not hesitate to tell me."

I nodded. I could not speak.

She rose, picked up her basin, and left me alone in the quiet room.

I let out a shaking breath. For the first time that day, I thought I might be able to breathe.

Then the door flew open so hard it hit the wall.

Draven stood in the doorway. His chest rose and fell fast. His eyes were dark and burning, and they were fixed on me.

"Rebecca," he said, very low. "We are not finished."