Olethros

forty eight - freyja

"Tell me, Rhysand. Has your father spoken any word about our agreement? Does he find it fitting?"

I wanted to scream at how Aled asked pointed questions to my brother. Rhys was no fool. Even if he hated our father, he would give Aled no scraps of information. It was entirely irritating to listen to. I was blessed during this week not to have too many interactions with the High Lord, so this supper was endless and torturous.

My eyes lifted to my brother, sat in his finery as the most elegant male. He bit a piece of the roasted duck breast from his fork as he eyed the High Lord. My brother was older than me, I'd always seen him like that, but now he was not the Heir. He sat tall and straight, groomed to perfection and emanating his power. I'd be horrified if I were Aled- being dominated so easily in my own territory.

"Aled, even with agreements in place, you understand my father does not dwell on his decisions. He's a male of his word. He receives, he provides, and that is the finale of it."

My brother's words shouldn't have hurt, but I felt their stab as though Carys had taken her fork to my chest. I knew my father didn't care more for me than just a bargain, but it still hurt to know he hadn't thought about me a second time since leaving this manor.

"Ah, of course. Alcaeus often makes quick decisions without dwelling on them. Tell me, how is your mother faring with our new arrangement?"

Rhysand's shoulders lifted, brow raising. "My mother's worries are of no one's concern. She is but a Lady."

"Right, yes, but was your sister not taught by her? Does Odessa worry her lessons have gone stale?"

"Whatever do you mean, High Lord?" My brother spoke through gritted teeth, making my heart race. The tension rose so quickly, I could feel it's suffocating presence.

"From what I've heard from my sons, Freyja has not partaken in the marriage bed with Tamlin. That is what she was taught to do, as well as why she was placed in his room. Perhaps you could speak to her and encourage her to fulfill her duties," Aled sneered, hardly glancing to me. I shivered at his words.

"With my understanding of this arrangement, my sister was brought here to wed your youngest son for the sake of alliance. Her duties end at the altar. Is that not correct?"

"Of course not. Your sister was raised to be a Lady. That title includes pleasure and obedience at all request from her husband."

"You seem eager for a bloodline from a son that you do not expect to take power, High Lord. If Tamlin does not overtake those duties, what is the point for him to have a child?"

The back and forth had my head spinning. They spoke of us as though Tamlin and I were spirits; unseen. I grit my teeth, feeling Tamlin's fingers around my thigh. He squeezed and offered me a meek smile. I let out a sigh, my eyes lifting to the one male I'd been avoiding looking at. Azriel sat stiffly in his chair, soup spoon still in his grip as he stared at Tamlin's arm reaching to me.

Gods, how I wanted his kiss again. I wanted his touch, his breath, his voice. I wanted to feel his body on mine. Another shiver ran through me, though this one was not of disgust. It was of need. After what my father had done to me and what Tamlin's brothers continued to do, it felt like a betrayal to my body and soul to feel my need for him like this. She'd been battered and bruised, yet I wanted more from him.

My lips parted. The air felt thicker, making my inhale short. I stared at his hands, remembering what they felt like without those gloves. How he felt pressing those fingers inside me. I inhaled sharply. The fabric of my gown felt too scratchy against my skin, too tight against each swell. His eyes lifted to me, tongue swiping across his bottom lip.