The King's Cursed Bride

Lost

Author's Note: This chapter is dedicated to the lovely Brittany2642! She's left me some really sweet comments, and she was one of my earliest readers, right from chapter 1 <3
And I'm dedicating these after I post them, since I'm not allowed to dedicate them beforehand :P

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The men left her alone.

In a matter of hours, a sickness had settled over her lungs. Now she not only spewed blood when she coughed, but yellow and green phlegm. Each cough seemed to scrape her throat raw, and merely breathing caused rivulets of pain to seize her. Judging from the men's expressions of disgust, they didn't think any physical pleasure they might derive from her broken body would be worth the illness.

It felt like her heart had been ripped into two. She longed for life, so she might have a second chance and fewer regrets, but she also longed for death, so she might sooner leave her anguish behind.

But mostly she longed for Elon. Her entire life, she'd dreamt of being loved fiercely, and all along she had—she just hadn't known it. It was a dream come true, a dream she would cling to until death pried it from her cold, rigid fingers.

The men in the front stirred. Then there were footsteps—footsteps from the other side of the bars. More prisoners perhaps?

There was a squeak, a snick, a grind, and the prison door swung open.

"Make way for the King!"

The... King? Could they mean Elon? Surely not. What would a King be doing in the dungeons? But then again, what other King in the entire land was there?

The men stepped backwards, clustering together. She only caught glimpses of what happened between their forms: movement, a silver flash of armor, and then the golden sheen of a crown.

Her heartbeat so hard the noise resounded within her aching chest. Each frantic breath stretched her lungs, and pain nipped at her ribs. She had to get closer. Carissa dug her fingernails into the stone floor, shoving black filth beneath their rims, and she dragged herself.

She ignored the pain wracking her body until it forced her to stop. Moisture clung to her hairline, and her arms trembled, yet she was only a foot closer.

The steps no longer echoed through the jailhouse. No more then ten feet in front of her, the King spoke, "No more than a day ago, there were several nightwomen brought here. They were thrown into the dungeons an account of no more than being considered the property of a forfeited nighthouse. The laws of Nysia state that no person is to be considered such, so I've come to release these women from their imprisonment."

There was the whisper of feet. Through the crowd, Carissa saw one of the nightwomen staggering towards the King. The second nightwoman's arms hung limply around the first's shoulders.

The King strode towards her and swept the weaker of the two nightwomen into his arms. Her head dangled backwards, and she seemed more corpse than living being. Carissa's heart pulsed at the sight of the King stooping to cradle the begrimed woman against his chest. If only she'd read the letters before now, then she would have had the opportunity to experience such tenderness herself.

"Knights, assist these women."

One knight scooped the woman from the King's arms to his own, and another assisted the other woman towards the exit.

They were leaving. Without her.

"No, wait!" There was enough power behind her words to cause them to echo around the jailhouse, but instead they clawed her throat before staggering from her lips at a quarter of the volume that they ought have.

She pulled herself forward, though darkness crouched at the edge of her vision, waiting to pounce until the pain so weakened her she would be unable to fight it.

"Please. Please wait." Silent sobs choked her.

He was so close, but he might as well have been in Esmeray. There was no way he could hear her, and no way she could reach him. Weakness lanced her arms, and her progress slowed to a halt. Though she scraped and clawed the floor, she had no more strength with which to crawl.

A few men glanced down at her passively. Some smirked. No doubt they were glad the jailhouse wasn't being purged of all women. Perhaps they even hoped she'd become well enough to use again.

The King strode towards the gate, his posture regally straight and his steps sure. His gaze skipped from prisoner to prisoner, a frown skimming his forehead. He cast one more glance around the prison before turning his back to them and curling his hand around the bars of the gate.

She stared at his broad shoulders, not daring to blink. His pale brown hair curled around his ears and above his collar. Though it had obviously been combed, its natural curl refused to be entirely subdued. Atop his head sat the crown, its glimmer unmistakable even in the dim light of the jailhouse. Its pinnacles pointed towards the ceiling like stubby palace spires.

Carissa tucked the image into her heart. She would hold it close as the sickness and men ravaged her body, as the pain became overtook her will to live, as death silenced her breath.

Perhaps it was better this way. He deserved a queen who'd always loved him as deeply as he'd love her. He deserved purity, and beauty, and life, all of which had been drained from her. But that didn't stop her heart from writhing with longing.

His every action was steeped in love—from his penned letters to the gentleness he'd shown the nightwomen. The passion she'd shared with Viltus, the affection she'd given Aleck, and even the protectiveness of her parents all seemed like inferior imitations in comparison. Elon would have loved her well, and she would have loved him in turn.

The urge to cry seized her throat, and warm tears welled in her eyes. Not only would she have loved him: she did love him.

The King had stepped through the entrance, and his hand had pulled the gate halfway shut behind him when he jerked to a stop and froze.

One of the knights approached. "Your majesty, is everything—"

Elon held up a palm, pivoted on his heel, and strode back into the cell.

Her heart tripped over itself. Had he... Had he heard her? She should squash her hope, lest she be disappointed, but it surged so powerfully within her chest that she was unable to resist its pull.

Elon slowed to a stop in the middle of the dungeon. His gaze slid across the men, meeting each of their eyes. "Is there another nightwoman here?"

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Author's Note: Check out the external link below or my profile if you'd like a sneak peak of the next chapter!