You Are Mine (16 page)

The plate is yanked from my hands. “A
drink, woman.”

No complaints or punishments for the
dropped food. I release the air from my lungs. The drinks have to
be on the table. Certainly there's enough food, it can't matter if
a little is on the floor. I grab a goblet and inspect the jugs.
Wine, ale, or water. Two of the three choices are acceptable to a
man, yet I still have to deal with the Envadi tonight, so I grab
the unacceptable choice. With a goblet of water, I return to him.
It can't be what he wants but if he'll accept it without backlash,
it'll be worth the risk.

He takes it from me and drains it. The
men cheer. He casts a powder-blue spell. The cup glides through the
air to me. It's warm against my palms.

The other women in the room move to
the serving table. I refill the goblet, grateful water appears to
be an acceptable choice and return it. The Envadi looks me in the
eye, a blaze still burning in him. He points at the floor. Despite
his power, I don't want to lower myself to him anymore. But my body
is so tired. It's hard to keep it up. I sit, curling my legs under
me. It's what is expected of me.

The men talk and laugh. Women walk
back and forth between the food and the men, but the Envadi never
asks for anything more. Rather than demanding things, he ignores
me. He laughs and talks with Father and the Grand Chancellor.
Though I know he's a barbarian, he sounds just like the other
warlocks.

Other men come by with their leashed
women. They send their women for drinks and food for him. Some of
the women ignore me. Others gaze at me with sympathy. A few glare
at me. One walks up to me, but instead of stopping, kicks my legs
before falling to make it look like she tripped over me. I ignore
them all.

Vaguely, I'm aware that I should be
hungry. I ate so little for breakfast, and my body is exhausted.
But none of the food appeals to me. If anything, I feel nauseous.
My dress clings to my skin. Sweat beads on my forehead. I lean
against the throne. It's cool against my side and face. My eyelids
give a heavy blink and close.

Without warning, I'm wrenched to my
feet. The Envadi wraps his arm around me, half carrying, half
hauling me along. I try to clear my mind as we move past whooping
men. The women keep their eyes to the ground, some frowning, some
smiling, and some expressionless.

I stumble as he stops to open a door.
Frigid air blasts, bringing me fully conscious. My gown does little
to protect me from the coming storm. A carriage waits at the end of
a pebbled walkway. A footman opens the door. I half jump, am half
pushed inside. As I collapse on the seat, the door closes. I pant
in the dark.

The carriage moves. My stomach twists.
I fumble for the pot kept beneath the seat. There's nothing in my
stomach to loose, but my body tries anyway. Over and over again.
The ride is infinitely longer than this morning. Rain patters on
the roof. The horse's hooves clop on the road. The carriage dips
and bounces. I heave again.

When the carriage finally stops, I
stay slumped against the seat. The cold darkness bears down on me.
The door opens. I flinch at the torch light carried by the footman,
but don't move from my seat. After a moment, the footman peers in.
With a groan, I sit up. I rub the back of my hand across my mouth.
The fresh, rain-scented air eases my stomach. I drag myself from
the carriage, quickly becoming soaked by the downpour. Thankfully,
the Envadi is nowhere in sight. But Phyllis is.

“
Come. I've prepared your
room.”

Not wanting to think what that means,
I let her guide me into the house, and through halls and upstairs,
dripping on everything. In front of Cynthia's door, I pause.
Phyllis snaps at me. With a groan, I climb the stairs after her to
my room and head straight for the bed, not worried about drying
off.

“
Not yet. I'm under orders
to prepare you for the Chancellor.”

I shiver. The branding. I almost
forgot about it. I want to forget about it and have everyone else
do the same. The bed sits there. I want to collapse on it. How much
longer will this day be? I wipe a tear before she can see it. My
little table has bowls, ink, and a needle on it. I avert my gaze
from the tools to the vanity. It has a tea set on it. I sit in
front of it. She grabs a brush and works on my tresses.

“
You'd better drink your
tea.”

I pick up the cup and smell it. The
earthy smell from the morning invades. I slam it down, some
sloshing out.

She stops brushing to top off the cup.
“Your Father said I'm to inform you that you may be out of his
house, but your sisters are not.”

I grasp the table. There's no way to
direct the attention onto me if I'm here. I swig the drink. She
refills it and hands it to me. She frowns with concern, and for a
moment I think she's going to apologize, but it deepens to a
scowl.

“
Drink up.”

I close my eyes and down the second
cup. When she fills it a third time I say, “No more. One was fine
for the ceremony. Two is more than enough.”

“
I suppose it will do.”
With a shrug, she resumes brushing my tresses.

I avoid looking at her in the mirror.
I want to throw the teapot across the room. And maybe cry, but not
while she's here. Oh how I wish there were no warlocks controlling
my life.

“
Do you need help with
anything else?”

“
You've helped
enough.”

“
Very well. I'll leave the
tea in case you change your mind. Ring if you need me.”
B
efore departing,
she points to the cord by my bed that lets the servants know
I need something.

Once she's gone I grab the pot and
hurl it against the wall. It shatters to the floor in pieces. I
fling the cup after it. I slump in my chair, with my elbows on the
table and my head in my hands. Tears sting my eyes. I breathe
deeply and close my eyes until they leave. The earthy smell fills
the room. I should have thrown the pot out the window.

My head grows dizzy. My body harder to
control. It's easier to recognize now that I've already been
through it. The detachment is almost a relief, but I still wish I
could have avoided drinking the tea. While I still have control, I
walk to my window seat and curl up on it, tucking my dress around
me. The pouring rain soothes me.

Sometime later, a knock echoes in my
room. I try to yell 'go away', but nothing comes out. The knock
sounds again and the door opens. The Envadi is in my room. The
dagger responsible for cutting into me rests in his sheathe. I
blink at him. As soon as our eyes meet, he lowers his
gaze.

“
You can't talk about the
ceremony. The spell cast at the end will turn you mute forever if
you even try. You must not.” He moves closer. “Do you
understand?”

“
Yes.” My mouth responds
without my telling it to. I try to ask him to explain, but nothing
comes out.

“
I would like
to
—
No,
finish the tattoo first, then we'll talk.”

He proceeds toward me. I try and try
to tell my body to stand. To back away. To do something. At least
take whatever is coming standing up. It refuses to move.

My pulse increases. He stops and
kneels until his face is even with mine. Faintly, there is the
sound of metal sliding against metal. He hovers there.

“
Your brand. Would you
tilt your head back?”

I try to force it not to move, but my
efforts don't make a difference. It tilts back. The ceiling is
rather a bad distraction. A blank canvas of cream paint. My neck
grows sore after several minutes, but I can't do or say anything.
He moves away and returns. I wish I could at least look at him.
What's he doing? Why's it taking so long?

“
This isn't working. I
can't...” He grunts and stands. “Come here.”

Against my will, I crush myself
against him, resting my head against his chest and wrapping my arms
around him. I feel his heart beat increase through his shirt. I
shriek at myself to get away from him. I beg and plead. But I
remain plastered against him.

He pats my shoulder and takes a step
back. I move with him. He backs up again and I follow. He maneuvers
us to the table and chairs. His hands grasp my waist. I want to
beat my fists against him. Mother's warning was right. I shouldn't
have worn the dress. He's going to take my virtue because of it,
and I'll be forced to become a tarnished. The memory of Thomas
groping at me surfaces. I struggle to move myself from his grasp,
but my body still won't respond.

He grips my waist tighter and sets me
on the chair. My insides shake with relief that he doesn't seem
interested in me. Once he sits in his own chair, I stop trying to
move. Without being under my own control, this may be the best I
can hope for. He twists a ring on his right hand.

“
Are you all
right?”

Not even close, but my body refuses to
say that. “I'm well, Master.”

“
Are you sure?” He cocks
his head to the side. “You seem a little...different than
usual.”

“
I'm sure.”

He leans forward, elbows on his knees,
and frowns. My mouth mimics his frown. “I know this situation
hasn't been ideal, but I'd like it if we could get to know one
another better before I have to...” He glances at the equipment on
the table. “I know about your parents and Cynthia. What about the
rest of your family?”

I don't want to say a word about my
sisters. “There's me then Cynthia, then Bethany, Preshea, Julia,
Grace, Ada, Emma, Sally, Beatrice, Phoebe, Ruthie, Stella, and
little Molly.”

“
Wow. That's a lot to
remember.”

“
Don't worry, you won't
have to remember.” Egh. They're more worth remembering than he is.
Stupid tea.

“
Uh
—
” He sits back in his chair.
“That's a big family and all girls. I only have one sister.” Only
one? Must be because they already have a him. “Do you miss your
sisters?”

“
Yes.” My voice
cracks.

He moves to kneels by me. “Hey, it's
all right. You can be sad about it. Even if you need to cry about
it, it's fine.”

Tears gush from me like a spring
river.

Zade holds a handkerchief out to me.
“I didn't mean you had to cry if you don't want to.”

My tears stop. Thankfully.

“
What is wrong with
you?”

So, so much. “What is wrong with
me?”

He casts an aqua spell. It traces over
me. “You're not spelled. Are you sure you're all right?”

“
I'm fine.”

“
No. You should be doing
more,” he waves his hand about, “normal things.”

“
What do you want me to
do?” My voice doesn't sound like my own. Too breathy.

He clears his throat and
looks around the room. “I just wanted to
—
” His gaze stops on the broken
teapot. He stands, his forehead wrinkling. “What
happened?”

“
I broke it.” My body
giggles. Blast it.

He strides to the tea pot and picks it
up. He holds a broken piece to his nose and sniffs. His eyes
tighten. With a wave of his hand, he casts a muddy spell over it.
After a moment, the spell stops. He stiffens. With his hand clamped
around the piece, he strides toward me. He thrusts the broken piece
toward me.

“
Did you drink
this?”

“
Two whole
cups.”

His nose flares. “You're trying to get
rid of my ownership of you so they'll have grounds to make me lose
the Chancellor's position. Who put you up to this?” He throws the
already broken piece at the wall. “Who was it?”

My eyes tear. At least he's getting to
the information I want him to know. “Phyllis.”

“
The servant your Father
sent?” He paces the room, clenching and unclenching his hand. “I
should have sent her away the day she got here. I just didn't think
you'd go along with their plans. I should have never agreed to
marry you. Stupid wench.”

He stops in front of me, leans down,
and puts a hand on each of the arm rests. Punishment is coming.
Some good will come of my detachment. I'll finally know what his
punishments are like.

“
Why did you go along with
this?” His voice is menacing.

I cringe. For a moment I'm grateful my
body is finally responding to what I want it to do, but then it
speaks without my telling it to. “So my sisters wouldn't get
hurt.”

His face relaxes and he stands. I jump
up and put my head against his chest again. Tears stream down my
face. Stop crying. Stop it right now! He's going to punish me,
don't let him see what it's doing to me. But of course I continue
crying. The Envadi doesn't move.

“
I didn't mean to get
upset.” His voice is calmer now, like that I'd use with one of my
youngest sisters. “It's all right. Why were your sisters
threatened?”

I sniff. “When I wouldn't drink the
tea, Phyllis said Father had ordered that if I didn't, they would
be punished.”