Spin Me Sweet Tales

Chapter Eight

Green and gold magic whorls around my body when I enter the wedding reception. They do not paralyze my body this time, but they change my outfit. The long, exaggerated ombre dress train disappears, and my wedding gown is replaced with a crème silk gown with sheer sleeves and no corset. There's a small train, only a few inches past my feet, and it's easier to move in; correction, easier to dance in.

King Shaharuddin guides me to the dancefloor. He twirls me in the center of everybody's gaze, and he pulls my body flush against his. "I don't want to dance with you," I whisper the confession, but I'm in a room full of vampyres who can hear everything.

Yet, my forced husband smiles. "How about a deal? If you dance with me for one song, then I'll assemble a desk in your bed chambers so you may write."

"I can write when I'm home," I respond bitterly.

"Didn't I just tell you, my beautiful bird?" He leans forward and kisses the tip of my rounded nose. "You are home, and it can either be a pleasant home for you where you may write at your leisure, or you can continue to see it as a prison. The choice is yours, but this is your home now and I would rather kill everybody in this room than let you go."

He glides across the dancefloor, and with tears in my eyes, I follow his movements. I do not know the dance, but each time his face grimaces when I step on him, it gives me the smallest bit of joy. King Shaharuddin twirls me, dips me, and dances with me until the song ends. Then he stops like he promised.

His dark eyes move to a spot behind me, and he orders. "My bride will now retire for the night."

I do not have time to turn around to see who he was speaking to, but I know it's Deeba or Khaivya when green magic whirls around my body. There is an absence of fight when the magic transports me away from the wedding because there is no point in fighting my fate. I am a flightless bird trapped in a cage with no way out.

When the magic dissipates, I'm back in the bedroom with the dead wives painted on the ceiling. I turn around to face the witch who transported me here, and Khaivya stands by the makeup station with a hairbrush in her hand and a weak smile on her face. I trudge towards her, take a seat, and let her clear me of my wedding makeup and jewelry.

Khaivya brushes through my knotted locks when she says. "The ceremony will end in two hours, and his highness will expect you awake for when he enters your bed chambers tonight."

I flinch at the suggestion in her tone, but I do not acknowledge that I heard her; instead, I ask. "Are you a witch?"

"I am," she answers. "There are four covens in Oraxto, and I am a witch from the Daayan coven. Our matron is Lahesia, but you can always tell who a coven's matron is based on the color of their magic. Low-level witches in the Daayan coven have ruby magic. Witches of nobility have emerald magic, but our matron is the only one who possesses gold magic. The same goes for the other covens. They have different colored magic depending on the hierarchy in their coven."

"What are the other covens?" I ask, more to distract myself from tonight's possibilities than genuine curiosity. "And do they have the same powers as you?"

Understanding flashes across Khaivya's face, and she gifts me with a distraction. "There are four covens because there are four types of powers a witch can possess. My coven, the Daayan, are illusionist. Our magic," to show me, Khaivya lifts her hand and green mist swirls around her digits. "Can create anything because we are making our witnesses believe it's there. Our magic never is real, but we can convince our subjects that whatever we spin is reality."

"So, when I'm paralyzed because of you, I'm not really paralyzed?" I ask.

I can see her smile from the mirror's reflection. "Correct," she says. "We want you to believe you can't walk, and you believe it. That's the power of our magic. We can make anybody believe something is there when it isn't, but because they believe, it comes true. Every Daayan witch is an illusionist, passed down from eons of ancestors, but the most powerful is our matron. Sometimes, her illusions become reality."