When Nelle Wychthorn was forced to sign herself away in marriage, she should have read the contract's fine print. Because she signs not with ink, but with blood. And that changes everything.
Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns'
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Fiery Nelle, the isolat...
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The sky was a churning mess of dark angry clouds. That's exactly how I felt too.
Dark.
Angry.
Hurt.
I stood on top of the fencing framing my private patio, my toes curled around the edge of the cold stone. Closing my eyes, I raised my arms, palms upward, losing myself in the chilly gusts that skimmed my skin and prickled it with goosebumps. The flared skirt of my swing dress buffeted in the snapping wind that teased my loose hair, making it twirl and slide across my face.
I'd slept in much later than I usually did, but wasn't that expected after everything that had happened the day before? Exhaustion had slammed into me hard, dragging me into sleep. I'd fallen into the dream world and was hauled unwillingly into the eerie darkness that still haunted my dreams, even though I'd escaped the tithe prison years ago.
The creature inside me filled every space within my body, threatening to burst my skin like an overly ripe fruit. It yowled for release with every thud of my heart. But for once, I didn't care, because I was sinking beneath an ocean of despair. I hurt. Every part of me hurt. It wasn't just a heaviness in my limbs, it was everything inside my chest—an empty aching sensation.
Elbows, now, little bird—
Every touch, every whisper, every smile and laugh we'd shared, now stung with bitter humiliation. The way he'd made my body sing—he'd heard every gasp and moan, and witnessed the bliss washing over my face as I climaxed.
I hate you. You're a Wychthorn. A spoiled princess. Someone I've had to endure.
He'd enjoyed my downfall—
I own you. Like a toy. A pretty little toy.
Three short sentences that summed me up.
I was nothing but entertainment and amusement. Like Evvie was a Wychthorn trophy to Corné, I was just a plaything to be used and discarded by Graysen.
I had nothing left but the pain in my chest—
Don't think about it—
Don't think about what it actually means.
Because it wouldn't hurt this way if I'd just been played. This kind of pain meant something else entirely. Graysen Crowther had wormed his way into some deep part of me.
I drew in a deep, fortifying breath and opened my eyes, keeping them focused dead ahead. A storm had swept in during the early hours of the morning. Heavy rain had turned the lawn into a sodden mess and the storm winds had brought down half the marquee. The mortal contractors were returning to reset the gigantic tent and strengthen the ties against the gusty winds. Their trucks carved deep ruts into the wet green lawn. My family and the Pelans were gathered in small pockets near the marquee, anxiously discussing what needed to be done before the Houses began to arrive for this evening's celebration.
