Rise (Roam Series, Book Three) (4 page)

“
Don’t lose yourself, Roam,
” he whispered before being shoved out of the chamber.

Helen
a tended to my needs again, helping me to the chair at the vanity so that she could brush my hair. I met her elderly eyes in the reflection in the mirror, lines like the ones on my map stretching from the corners of her lashes to her white-gray hairline. Sorrow consumed her gaze.

Finally, I spoke quietly.
“You… didn’t mean to hurt me. You were trying to help me, and… I forgive you.”

A single tear slid
down her cheek, and she blinked rapidly, pulling the wide hairbrush through my thick, mahogany hair. “My queen.”

I stilled her hand, my chin quivering. “Will you bring me a cup of tea each night?”

She gripped my hand in both of hers, dropping the hairbrush. “He would know. I would be put to death.”

I
nodded, letting her hold me as I crumbled.

Days became measured
, wasted interludes between torturous nights.

Though I was finally permitted to leave the room under guard, I clung to my prison, resigning to the oversized arm chair near the
balcony window. The world outside reminded me of the month of March in Ohio; windy, rainy, and eventually littered with sun-filled hours of daylight. I stopped screaming when Troy would come in late in the evening, centering my eyes on that red, crushed velvet armchair trimmed with leather near the window. Strangely, the chair began to represent safety, or the hours that I was left to my own self. I would focus on the chair, willing my mind to believe that it would only be a matter of hours before I’d be back at the window and safe.

The only food I could stomach was soup with tiny, salted crackers, and so I ate that and nothing else for every meal. Morning maids would help me to the bathroom and to dress, and I’d focus on getting back to the chair as quickly as I could. The oceans beyond the kingdom tumbled with chunks of ice, and each day was a melting progression.

As the sun remained in the sky for longer periods of time and the frozen world began to melt, I took note of the kingdom below, of the strange people scurrying in the roads with horse-drawn carriages and briefcases. I wondered about their daily life and occupations, and soon began naming the familiar faces in my mind.

When
evening fell, anxiety often left me gripping the arms of the chair. Troy would have to peel my fingers away from the bolted leather to carry me to the bed. According to the tick marks on the wall, seven days had passed since the first, terrible night he touched me.

“Roam,” he lay next to me as I stared at the ebony canopy through the darkness, his fingers tracing my cheekbone. “
I am going to sleep here, with you, from now on.”

I turned my face on the pillow, purposefully meeting his eyes for the first time since his attacks began. “Why?” I whispered, the threat to my routine stealing my breath.

“I want to be closer to you.”

My mouth went dry;
I turned to my chair, focusing on the smooth lines of the winged-backed leather and velvet. “But I will never sleep,” I felt my chest rising and falling as my breathing became irregular, and he reached for me, smoothing his fingers over my neck.

“
You’re breathing too fast.” He found my fingers, pinching them in his grasp. “Stop. I won’t stay if it upsets you that much.”

When I turned into my pillow, clinging to the sheets while my lungs refused to function, I heard him move to the door. The heavy slam of the iron and wood was so relieving, I
broke into tears, wrapping the sheet around my naked body and darting from the bed to my chair.

Curling my legs beneath me, I found sleep near the window.

I woke to his arms slipping under me, lifting me.
Did I sleep through the day? Is it night again? No…
I tried to fight him, but he held me firmly, carrying me through the cold light of dawn and back to the bed. “I’m not going to touch you. Stop.” His voice, gentle for the first time, turned piteous. “I am going to sleep here with you, and you’ll learn to sleep next to me and trust me. You are my wife,” he added, pulling the blankets over me as I shivered.

“I expect you to accept me and behave normally. I have no intention of keeping you, locked up in here, watching you go insane.
”

“Let me go, then,” I argued, cringing as he pulled me against his shirt, my body stiffening.

“That is not an option,” he flattened his palm over my back, stroking lightly. “You know the conditions we agreed on in that basement. I have kept my word. Your sister lives; your daughter lives. Logan lives.”

As he mentioned Eva, I
lost my breath, picturing her safe in West’s arms.

“
I expect a willing, obedient wife. Not this.”

With that, he tucked me even
tighter to him, and closed his eyes.

According to the sun through the window, hours passed, but time crept like years as he slept next to me. My mind activated, and I thought of every possible weapon in the bedroom and bathroom.
Would he sleep if I moved out of his grasp? How could I kill him, really kill him, without giving him a chance to retaliate against me? Are the guards still at the door outside?

With his face only centimeters from mine, I noted a scar beneath his left eyebrow, and thick, dark eyelashes on each eyelid. His Roman nose lined vertically w
ith the cleft in his chin. Lips parted slightly, his teeth were very white and mostly straight, except for one slightly crooked, bottom tooth. A shadow of facial hair covered his jaw, and laying so close to him, I could see each tiny hair follicle on his chin.

It had to be nearing noon when he stirred, his
arctic blue eyes blinking and focusing on me. I watched him, praying he would just simply get up and go away. He cleared his throat, cupping my face in his palm. I closed my eyes.

“You didn’t move.”

“I was afraid you’d hurt me if I did.”

He stared at me coldly, his fingers sliding up my back and threading into my hair. “I don’t intend to hurt you. I will give you everything you want, if you
will do the same for me.”

Something deep inside of me resigned to this life
that I could never have imagined as his mouth moved over mine.
Survival
. Instinct told me to respond, even just slightly, to his mouth on mine.

He recognized my acceptance, turning more fully over me on the pillow to
continue his kiss. When I lifted my hand tentatively to the back of his neck, he softened, smiling into my mouth.

“Good girl.”

I felt as though I’d passed through another fountain; the molecular structure within my body broke down, transforming into another version of myself, into a life I had only heard about but never experienced.

He slept
in the bed with me, afterward, every single night.

I woke up next to Troy
three weeks later, barely making it to the toilet before vomiting.

As
he towered in the doorway of the bathroom, his thick head of dark brown hair stood up in various places, unruly. Completely naked, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you pregnant?”

I nodded, spitting and reaching for toilet paper. “I think so.”

“An heir.”
Satisfied with himself, he sauntered to me and glanced out the window at the sunshine warming the pane. “Everything is growing… the trees, the crops, and in the middle of January.” He lifted me to my feet, brushing my hair from my eyes. A smile touched his lips. “I am pleased with you, Roam.”

I accepted his arms around me, just as I’d accepted everything for the past month; emotionless. Nights became more bearable as I distanced myself fro
m him, clinging to survival. At first I’d tried to think of West, but Troy’s touch was so abhorrent that I couldn’t imagine anything good. Instead, I resigned to wicked, awful thoughts that allowed me to endure my time with him.

He gave explicit instructions that I only address him as ‘
my lord,’ publicly acknowledging his reign and exemplifying my obedience. He urged me to come to his court and sit next to him on the throne, and eventually outside to walk, guarded, in the grass that was growing for the first time in centuries.

Logan was
imprisoned for two weeks, and then was permitted back in the court and given a position in the army. Troy excused his outburst and attack, pardoning him.

The soldier’s lustful eyes were forever following me, and I found myself staying as close to Troy as possible.

Distracting myself with history had helped me deal with anxiety in the past, so I read the books about Icepond and began studying the economy, especially trade. The surrounding countries had natural resources that Icepond did not, like oil and coal. The kingdom was heated exclusively with electricity, and now suffered incredible debts to nearby countries due to the enormous expense.

Travel had been nearly impossible with the weather conditions, but now as the sun melted the land, the clop of horse drawn carriages became a constant sound below on the roads.

As I formed opinions of the kingdom’s debts and politics, I longed to voice them to someone other than Troy. Helena knew little about economics, but Troy’s financial advisor worked closely with imports and exports.

I wanted to meet his adv
isor, a man named William, but I needed to please Troy in some way to gain his favor.

I’d suspected that I was pregnant a week ago, when the smell of a
new mulberry bush outside my window wafted near me and left me nauseated. I remembered throwing up at the restaurant with Logan after smelling the Alfredo sauce, and identified immediately with the nagging pit in my stomach.

“
You are pleased with me,” I repeated.

“You’ve been
… willing… for quite some time now. I would like for you to trust me. You carry my child… the heir.”

I would throw myself on a spike before giving birth to your
demon.

“My king,” I acknowledged demurely.

“Do you trust me, Roam?”

I wished he would put clothes on. “I am… learning… to.”

“What would it take for you to trust me?”

I touched his chest with my fingertips, grazing his skin. The muscles beneath flexed involuntarily. “I would like to learn more about the economy… trade… and speak to
your financial advisor,” I suggested. “I have learned a lot about politics, and have been studying the history of this kingdom. I would like to be your
queen
… your consort… and not your prisoner.”

He tucked me against him, my belly flattened against his thighs. “
Well, then,” he grinned down at me, brushing my hair away from my face. “Ask me if I trust you.”

I looked up, into his eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Lifting me up and against him, he turned to put me on the sink ledge. His hair revealed flecks of gray in the light. He spread my robe open, and I swallowed hard, trying to focus on not clawing his face as I fought for balance. The backs of my thighs pinched cruelly against the marble sink top.

“You are
still revolted by my touch, my terrible little actress,” he hissed against my ear, moving into me so quickly that I cried out. My sweating palms slid at the mirror behind me as I tried to find something to hold on to. “
I will never trust you.
”

He was through with me within minutes.

Gripping my chin, he shoved me back against the mirror before turning to stalk to the shower.

I slid to my feet, the belt from my robe trailing be
hind me as I fought the intensity of the rage that consumed my body. He kept a knife in his boot, and it took less than a minute to find the long, smooth blade. I could open the shower and stab him, but I’d have to do it to ensure I kill him before the guards killed me, otherwise he’d hunt Eva.

An heir.
I stared at the knife, and then my flat abdomen, wondering if I had the fortitude to kill myself now. My conscience always invaded, unwelcome.
The child is innocent, even if his father is a monster.

A
sharp knock sounded. I tightened my robe and quickly slid the knife back into Troy’s boot, walking to the door to turn the lock.

Armed guards stood on either side of the doorway, with Logan in the middle. His eyes swept over me. “Am I interrupting?”

“Not soon enough,” I murmured, stepping into the hall but leaving the door opened. “He’s showering.”

Logan
looked down, his fists clenching at his sides. He wore the crested tunic that West wore in my dream, and his dark hair was longer, curling against his forehead. I pulled my hair to one shoulder, pressing my fingers to my eyes.

Finally, he spoke. “His majesty’s presence is requested in the hall.”

“Great.
You
tell him.” I started to turn, but Logan caught my arm, holding it up to the light. Bruises and rope marks lined my wrists and forearms, and his jaw tightened.