Olethros

forty six - freyja

I felt his eyes on me. It was caress, one that left chills in its wake. It felt as though his shadows brushed my skin. My breath shuddered as I inhaled. Dafid's hand caressed my thigh, the act numb to me after this week. It only took them a day before the two brothers were on me. Tamlin tried to stop them, but he was the weakest.

We'd lay in bed together after the days, his skin littered in bruises at the hand of his father and brothers, my skin tingling in the lingering touch of theirs. This was mild. Emyr had already tried his best with fingers inside of me when he walked in during my bath. I'd stayed silent, staring at the wall as his lips coated my throat and his fingers made me bleed. I welcomed the pain; it was better than the emptiness I was left with.

Tamlin and I had become close, bonding in our trauma. We would hold each other in his bed, whispering about what had happened to us that day. It had only been a week, but it felt like a decade.

"I'm not understanding why you two are on Freyja like that when she is arranged to marry Tamlin. Why do you need to be with her in Tamlin's absence?"

It did make me fear for my brother as I heard his voice. I didn't want Emyr and Dafid to get angry with him, because he was on their territory. The High Lord would hold nothing against them if they stroke first. My chin trembled as I lifted my eyes to see his knees beyond the table. I couldn't look him in the eye. If I did, if I looked to him or to Azriel, I feared my mask would slip and I would feel too much.

"Tamlin may be arranged to marry her, but he shares her. It's fun to have a little plaything in this manor. Makes it easier than running to the villages to chase tail, huh, Em?" Dafid laughed, making me tense when his smallest finger grazed my center from over my dress. My brother had seen enough violations against me. He did not deserve to see how they treated me.

I wished he never came here. I wished he lived in the blissful arrogance of believing I was being treated as a Lady in this court. I couldn't face him and let him see how I truly felt; disgusted, horrified, shameful, dirty.

I wouldn't mind as much if Tamlin truly made a move to touch me- if it were only Tamlin- because I knew I had no chance to have Azriel to myself anymore. My love for him would go to my grave, hidden in a journal, because I would never be able to express it to him again. I began to think, when Tamlin held me close as we cried together, that I could maybe love him one day. He was kind to me, he understood what it was like to be the weakest. He may not be female, but he understood.

"She looks thin. Has she been eating?" Rhysand asked. I heard the break in his voice. It made my skin itch.

"Well, she gets served the same plates as the rest of us. She doesn't seem to have an appetite for it. Serves well for us. That and her daily walks seem to be giving her a better figure," Emyr answer, squeezing my shoulder. I let out a breath, closing my eyes.

"A better figure? She looks like she hasn't gotten fed this entire week," Rhysand spat. His anger was growing thick in the air, a tangible entity. I wished he hadn't come here.

"That's the point, Rhysand. Overfed and not disciplined in your court. We are shaping her to be the right Lady," Emyr chirped, pressing a wet kiss to my cheek. Gods, I thought I'd vomit right there. I heard a slap sound, making me jolt. My eyes snapped up before I could stop myself.

There he was. The male I loved, staring like he was ready to disembowel the males beside me. Azriel's jaw was tight, eyes shadowed by brows as he glared. I noticed then that his hand was on my brother's shoulder, holding him down. Rhysand's nails were digging into the cushions beside him, teeth grinding. All of my breath left me.

"Mm, well, it's been lovely, but it's time for another lesson. Come, Freyja, dear. We can all go to my bedroom."

I couldn't take my eyes from Azriel's. Not as Emyr took me by the arm and lifted me to my feet, Dafid's hand on my back.