Aureate Fates

25

"That looks awkward," Erik said, eyeing her with a grimace, removing his crown and setting it aside haphazardly.

Her own crown was still on, the size of it much smaller than his but with far more jewels. Marisol huffed out a breath and threw down her hands. "I'll call the maids," she grumbled, not liking the word 'maid' in her mouth. They were kind women, with the potential for much more.

Erik was already moving toward her. "Turn around."

"You don't know how—," she stumbled short.

Her husband smirked, a guilty look in his gray eyes.

"Of course you know how," Marisol scoffed, suddenly feeling angry. Reluctantly, she turned around and gestured to the ribbons.

She knew when Erik came up behind her, because she felt a careful tug at the gold ribbon. Already, she felt relief. As he worked, she said, "Reese told me about the ring."

He stilled, only briefly, but then resumed. His hands were warm. "Did he?"

"He says you dragged him along without a choice," Marisol replied. "Why?"

Not a second passed before Erik responded, "It's tradition for a man to choose a ring for his wife, arranged or not."

"Verskyian tradition?" Marisol inquired.

"No," Erik said, continuing to work through the ribbons of her dress. Marisol turned her face over her shoulder, to find that his concentration was entirely on untying the corset. "An Orvar tradition, one that my father will kill me for if I abandon, even so far away."

Marisol looked at her left hand, the red ruby staring at her dauntlessly. "Are there any other Orvar traditions that I should know about, since I'm to be your wife?" she asked, dropping her hand.

She could finally say the words without wanting to retch, despite knowing that back home, Nyall would have frowned at her in disappointment.

A tug, and then he answered, "Not ones you'll like."

She would take his word for it. "It must have been...expensive," she began, trying to find the words.

"For a common man, maybe," Erik offered. "But I'm king. And, the jeweler seemed more than happy to take my coin in exchange for that ring." Another tug. "I'm only feeding the economy."

Marisol understood then. No price was unaffordable for Erik Orvar, even before he was Verskyia's king. Him and Drew must have had a vast expanse of currency to their name.

Erik released her, and took a step back. "All done."

She muttered a small gratitude before walking to the bathroom. She left the door open as she changed, knowing that beneath her gown was a smaller, more breathable, slip dress.

"Marisol," Erik called from the couch. In the middle of folding her gown as best she could, Marisol poked her head out, expectantly.

It seemed as if the action surprised him, how quick she responded. But he continued. "Ferland is in the dungeon," he said, ambiguous silence following his statement.

Marisol's face blanched, but her relief was immediate. She slowly moved to sit beside him on the couch. She pressed her knees together. "Did you put him there?" she asked quietly.

His nodded once. "Yes." She gathered that many other things went on in that dungeon, those cells she still had never seen. "And he'll stay there for a very long time."

Marisol had seen the way that Ferland looked at Thema, who's childlike face was terrified. Ferland had been too close for the interaction to be pleasant, and Marisol could only guess at what the man chased. Thema hadn't told her anything, but down the hall, both Erik and Marisol heard the echo of a word.

Whore.

It was cruel of Ferland to use Thema's past against her.

"Good," Marisol managed. Erik only remained quiet. 

The spirits may have aged her wits, but she was still only a child. A girl at the mere age of thirteen; and yet, the Captain thought it was suitable for him to touch her.

"I am many things," he said gravely, meeting her eyes with violent disgust. "But I am not that, and I do not condone men who are." He ran a hand over his jaw. "The chancellor never let me eradicate that place, near the border of Ziralem. He said it was a privatized space, one that paid him handsomely."

She knew the one he spoke of. Thema's prison.

Marisol fought the urge to grab his hand, this time sincerely. She didn't know who she was becoming. "It's not your fault."

A knock sounded frantically at the door. Shouting and rough voices.

Erik was on his feet in seconds, already moving towards the door with that predatory stride. Marisol was right behind him, even at his look of disapproval.

When Erik swung the door open, one of the guards fixed them with a look of wonder. An almost gratifying smile. He knelt down, and hung his head. "A gift from Galvinus has prevailed in your honor, Your Majesties. Please, follow me."