What Lies Beyond the Veil (Of Flesh & Bone, #1)(11)
Surely he couldn’t mean to touch me in the Temple?
“You have no secrets from me, Estrella,” he said, releasing my chin slowly. That hand came down on the side of my neck as he bent at the waist, leaning forward until his forehead touched mine. “But remember what happens to men who take what is not theirs. It would be a shame if the Mist Guard learned what he’s done.”
“No, please. You can’t—”
Lord Byron pulled back, glaring at me as if to remind me of who he was. He could, and would, for there was no one to stop him, condemn a man to death just because he’d stuck his cock where it didn’t belong.
I hesitated, sinking my teeth into my bottom lip. “I just wanted something that was mine. A choice I-I could make for once,” I explained. Confessing my sin in the Temple felt like the greatest crime, an apology for something I couldn’t force myself to regret; not when it meant that whatever husband they chose for me would be sorely disappointed in the wife he ended up with.
“I know exactly what you wanted. You are rebellious, reckless, and most often foolish. If you were so determined to ruin yourself for marriage and make yourself into a common whore, the least you could have done was allow me to be the one to do it,” he snapped, the words striking against my skin like a physical thing.
“You would know, my Lord,” I said, my voice curling into a high-pitched mockery. It resembled the well-practiced moans of the women I’d watched him with, who he’d tried to throw in my face over the past two years, when he’d needed to fuck because of the frustration he said I built in him.
Because I’d been off limits—but I hadn’t, and he’d known it all along.
The back of his hand cracked against my cheek, the sound echoing through the empty space. My head snapped to the side with the force of it, my cheekbone throbbing from where his ring struck. “You will remember your place,” he said, grabbing me by my face. His thumb pressed into my cheek on one side, his fingers on the other as he leaned over me with his lips twisted in fury.
“Yes, my Lord,” I mumbled, my voice restricted by his cruel grip.
“You will come to the library tonight. There are things we need to discuss, and I need to calm down from your insolence or I will cane you until you bleed. Thank me for my kindness, Estrella.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” I said, wincing as he released my face suddenly.
“Tonight. Do not disappoint me again,” he reminded me harshly. He straightened his clothing, donning the persona he wanted everyone else to see, his lips tipped up into an appeasing and kind half-smile. Only I seemed to see the truth of who he really was. He made his way toward the doors, the sound of their creaking echoing through the sanctuary as he shoved them open.
Left to pick my beaten body up off the cold stone floor for what seemed like the millionth time in two years, I knew whatever was coming that night would be far worse.
4
I didn't sneak out through my window that night, instead walking straight out the front door as I so often did on the evenings when I was summoned to Lord Byron's private library at Mistfell Manor. There was nothing to hide from my brother—not when I’d been commanded to behave inappropriately on these nights. With my heart in my throat, I tried to sink into the comfort the night usually provided and take solace in the familiarity, before everything changed.
Lord Byron had mentioned we needed to speak. He hadn't said he intended to take my body in the way he hadn't before, and he wouldn't have hidden those intentions from me if he'd had them. He would’ve wanted to torment me through the day, to drive my heart into my stomach and fill me with dread.
I pushed branches away from my face as I moved through them, keeping to the trail. Eventually it would lead me toward the barracks and the manor close to the village center. Even though my walk in the night would be sanctioned if the Mist Guard brought me to the manor, I didn't particularly want to deal with the likely brutal escort I would receive.
I looked toward the trees and the glimpses of the moon shining through the canopy overhead. The shock of amber eyes studying me from the branches made my slow steps falter, freezing me in place to stare back into the too-intelligent eyes of the blight watching me.
Similar to the crows that were common during the daylight hours, the blight were nocturnal birds said to be crafted from the magic of the Court of Shadows itself. Born from the darkness, they were spies for the beings who could no longer cross over the Veil.
I swallowed as it cocked its head to the side while it watched me, shifting so its talons got a better grip on the branch before it blinked with a nearly-translucent eyelid, which added a misty quality to the eye that never left me. Launching into the sky, it flew back toward the Veil at the edge of the Mist, lending evidence to the rumor of its purpose.
Even though the Veil was believed to be impenetrable by any form of life, chills broke out over my skin and goosebumps raised at the very thought of a spy reporting about me to the monsters on the other side. There was no reason to believe the Fae cared in the slightest about my existence, but nothing could stop the ominous feeling from spreading through me.
Shaking my head, I continued my walk down the path even though a part of me wanted to return home. Knowing that, while I might be able to prolong the inevitable visit with Lord Byron, I couldn't escape it altogether. It had been such a small encounter, a bird watching me in the night, but some legends were better left as whispers meant to scare children.