Shared Between Them (7 page)

Taric wanted to wrap her up in his arms and explain that in the Northlands, it was actually quite normal for a wife to take two husbands at once. Because the nobles tended to scoop up many women for their harems, there weren’t normally scores of women to go around for the rest of the population. Strangely, it worked out that way—a woman and her children were sure to never to go hungry with two providers, such women tended to be better kept in line, and if the village was raided, she had two protectors, and maybe more depending on the age of her sons.

Draevan and Taric had been honing their skills to kill the giant, knowing there would only be one wife given as their reward. That being said, they were quite resolved to the fact that they would be sharing a wife their entire lives. That idea, however, might have been quite different to a girl from a culture where, although one elf could marry multiple she-elves, it was simply unheard of for a woman to marry more than one man.

The king actually walked down onto the field with the sacred wedding chalice in his hands, set to perform the ceremony for them. He actually seemed friendlier than ever now that it was certain Draevan or Taric wouldn't ask for the hand of one of his daughters or nieces.

During the ceremony, called 'The Binding', the men drank out of the chalice before it was offered to Kyra, who dug in her heels and clenched her lips together.

The king glared at her for a long moment. It wasn’t usual for an elven girl to be forced into marriage, but then nothing about this situation was usual. It was unusual to have humans in the kingdom at all, it was unusual to get any sort of pardon from the king, and it was unusual to have an audience of this size at a wedding ceremony. Everyone was watching from the stadium around them.

“Hold her,” Draevan ordered Taric, who promptly pinned her hands to the small of her back with his grip. Draevan took the chalice, pinched her nose, and waited for her to open her mouth where the wine from the cup was immediately sloshed into her mouth.

She coughed and sputtered. When Taric let her hands go, she wiped them across her face, muttering something to herself that he couldn't hear. She was trembling again, and then Taric and Draevan both put a hand around one of her upper arms, as if helping her to stand.

The king had a gratified look on his face as he continued the ceremony, as if the force they were using with their bride pleased him in some way.

It was then that the men felt a burning on their skin that stretched from their fingernails to their elbows—Draevan's left arm and Taric's right. This burning began to sear, as if an invisible knife was slicing into them.

Draevan's expression changed to murderous, and he opened his mouth to say something, but a forlorn cry of pain escaped Kyra's lips, and he turned to look at her.

The skin on her arms was beginning to change. While there used to be a small white tattoo spanning up some of her fingers, now the lace-like paisley tattoo began to creep up her skin like a vine, right before their eyes.

“You are bound forever together,” the king finished, and then gestured for his people to rejoice. For a long while, Taric and Draevan were too busy inspecting the arms of their new wife to begin inspecting their own. When they looked down at their hands and forearms, they saw that where their own skin had been seared and pained was a tattoo exactly like their wife's.

“What is this?” Draevan asked the king as the people all around them cheered, happy that they weren't the ones who had to marry them.

“The Binding,” the king replied, as if the answer was all too obvious. When Draevan remained unhappy by the response, he added, “There's magic binding you together now. You all have become of one spirit, and her powers are now shared by you.”

“She cannot turn invisible?” Draevan asked, awed. Somehow they both felt that was the best part of this 'binding' nonsense.

The king looked at him like Draevan was a child fooled by a magician pulling a coin from behind his ear. “She cannot hide from you anymore than you can hide from yourself.” The king turned, then looked over his shoulder as if he'd forgotten something. “Congratulations.”

Chapter Three

It had been a trying day, and all Kyra wanted to do was vomit what pittance was left in her stomach and curl up into the fetal position in a corner somewhere. Her stomach was tied into knots, and she had barely slept for nearly a month. She was exhausted, cold, and damp because the dungeons had less-than-ideal conditions for those who wanted to stay dry.

Her arms throbbed, and her pride? Well, that was long gone. It had been gone since the night she decided to play with fire in the form of the human giant-killers.

“C'mon, honey,” Taric said when she crumpled over before they'd even made it out of the arena. He hoisted her easily into his arms and carried her like a babe up the stairs leading towards the castle.

“Is she alright?” Draevan asked over her head. “God help us if she's taken ill!”

“I don't know. She's cold as ice,” Taric replied, concern saturating his voice. He looked down at her. “What were you thinking about, running away? We told you we'd take care of you from here on out.”

“I'm not…” She meant to argue that she wasn't a slave, that they didn't own her, and a lot of other trifle that, since the binding ceremony, wasn't at all true. Wives, when looked at it in a certain way, were very similar to slaves. They had to do what they were bid; their husbands kept all the rights of their person.

She didn't get to even argue. She passed out. She had never fainted before, but then again, she had never been nearly hung and then married to two human men against her will before. Though the real reason she'd fainted was mainly because she hadn't been given water or food for the last three days because the executioners preferred a clean corpse, and before that, the bowls of gruel she had been eating the last three weeks weren’t the most nutritious meals she'd ever eaten.

When her eyes fluttered open, she found herself lying in a
bed
. She had never lain in a bed before; and it was just like she'd heard it to be. It was like sleeping on cloud! Even though her head and stomach ached, she could still feel the fluffy mattress under her, pleasantly warm.

It was then she realized she had been… bathed. Her body felt so clean and soft, and she smelled good, fresh.

“
Finally!
” she heard a male's voice above her say. The word was pregnant with relief. “She's waking up.” She felt a calloused hand press against her cheek. The skin of the hand touching her felt so rough; like a crust of bread. She opened her eyes and saw Draevan above her, his brow wrinkled as he gazed down at her. “Dying after the ceremony is a cheap way to get out of your duties,” he told her. As always, his voice and eyes were stern and made her stomach flutter with nerves, but his touch was careful and loving, like she was a small pet.

“Told you she'd be fine,” Taric said, leaning over her and glancing at her face. He put a hand under her and hoisted her back up until he replaced his hold with about five pillows to prop her up.
Real
pillows—feather ones. “Even the color's back in her cheeks.” He grabbed a mug from a nearby tray and put it into her hands. “Drink this,” he ordered her.

His order was so firm, she didn't even sniff the contents first; she just brought it to her lips and drank. Luckily, she discovered it was only lukewarm water. When she was done, Taric took it and filled it again, and then again. Upon the forth cup, she shook her head and pushed it away. “I'm going to start sloshing,” she grumbled.

He frowned, but maintained his patience. “Ready for food, then? When was the last time you ate?”

She found it difficult to keep her eyes held up from the bedspread. She raised her shoulders until they hitched near her ears. What had happened before she'd lost consciousness had finally hit her. These were the same men she'd tried to rob, who'd stripped and spanked her before apparently killing the giant of Blue Forest. They were the ones who had shoved their fingers up her virgin entrance and kissed her deeply, saying that she cried prettily.

And they were now her husbands.

“Don't keep us in suspense,” Taric said patiently.

“I don't know. Wednesday, maybe.” It was Sunday, now. When she told them, Draevan swore and then stood up to pace the room. For reasons unknown to her, she felt pleased by his furious response.

Taric left to go get something and then returned. “Draevan, relax,” Taric told him, since there seemed to be a cloud of anger fuming out of him. He came and sat down on the bed next to her hip, peeling the skin from a strange, orange piece of fruit.

She blinked at it. It was an
orange
—she'd never had one of those before. Hell, they were nearly impossible to get this far north; they must have cost a fortune.

“You, little girl, have been the cause of a lot of strife,” he told her, but he didn't sound unhappy. “We've been searching for you the last month complete. Luckily, we gave up and came back just before you were able to depart from this place entirely.”

“Are you looking for an apology?” Because they weren't going to get one. “Or are you looking for my
thanks
?” They weren't going to get that, either! They only saved her life to pursue their own dark purposes.

There was a warning behind Taric's dark green eyes, but he merely handed her a juicy slice of orange. “Eat that.” She did, mostly because out of the corner of her eye she could see Draevan look at her, and she didn't like his expression. It seemed foreboding, as if he was waiting for her to throw a tantrum.

She was so agitated by her current situation that she nearly forgot to enjoy the delicious juice of the orange slice sliding down her throat. She’d seen them before, but she’d never had the opportunity to steal one and thus hadn’t ever tried one. It was astounding how savory the flavor was; her mouth was almost pained by the overwhelming gratification it felt.

Taric continued in a patient tone, but his brow was scrunched with frustration. “I don't know where this aggression from you is coming from, Kyra.
You
stole from
us
. We didn't come looking for you; we were merely in the position to catch you red-handed. And as for your crimes: we had nothing to do with them, your capture, your trial, or your sentencing. I can promise you that being our wife is better than being hung for the entertainment of ten thousand people. If you only do as you're told, you will feel quite spoiled.”

‘Spoiled’ was quite a word for it. It sounded like she was going to be forced to do whatever they willed under threat of a beating. “If I don't, you'll spank me!” she accused, trying to make him feel guilty for what he'd done.

“Of course we will! What else do you expect us to do with a bull-headed little elfling?” he returned, furrowing his eyebrows at her. He handed her another slice of orange. “You no longer have to lie, cheat, poach, or steal any longer. You will be given everything you desire; you only have to be obedient, respectful, and bear us sons.”

“You can't just
breed me
like some filly!” she snapped, red-faced. It was impossible, anyway. She’d never heard of a cross between the two species. They were too different to imagine such a thing.

Taric merely shrugged at that. “We can, actually. Your acceptance of all this is really not required. Whether you enjoy it or not is up to you.” He handed her another slice. “But I think you will.”

She clenched her teeth, feeling like her whole body was shaking with fury. She seemed to have come across the path of men who were interested in protecting her from everything except themselves!

The worst of it was that she didn’t have any other choice. They were her husbands—she was merely a slave to their wishes, and she already knew not to try their tempers. They were larger than her, faster than her, stronger than her, and they would soon be taking what was theirs, which was her body.

She swallowed. “You bathed me, didn't you?” she asked flatly, feeling churlish.

“Draevan and I did, yes,” he replied unapologetically. “We wanted to inspect you, anyway, to look for injuries, parasites, and rat bites. You
were
in a dungeon for a month.”

“Romantic,” she snorted, embarrassed by the act and by his clinical tone.

He smirked. “I thought it
was
incredibly romantic of us. We're your white knights, my dear, right out of a fairy story.”

“I’ve never heard a fairy story that ends with rape,” she sneered.

“Well, normally those stories don't have women who are as stubborn as you are.”

“Talk about stubborn! Why were you so interested in keeping me, anyway? There's a kingdom full of elves here, you know. You could have had your pick. Why me?”

“You appealed to us.”

“Why do you even care? You could have just killed me. That's normally what people do with thieves. Thieves make poor slaves, you know.” She crossed her arms, refusing to take any more orange from him.

“Apparently,” he agreed, rolling his eyes. “But we weren't going to kill you. Never had such a thing ever crossed our minds. Draevan has a sixth sense, you know. He can quite read what's in a person's heart.”

“That's ridiculous!” she said, aghast. “You're humans! You have no magical ability whatsoever!”

“He's never failed. Gets it from his mother. She was a well-known soothsayer,” he told her, his tone resolute. He truly did believe in Draevan's ability… As strange as it sounded. It figured; these men were from the North… The most superstitious realm in creation. Every village there had its own seers, legends, myths, and foretellings. “She knew we'd both come together to slay the giant of the Blue Forest.” Well, that explained their confidence in themselves…

“And,” Taric added casually, “we chose you because you are the most beautiful woman in the world.” He put down the orange peel on the side table. “And we've met
many
.”

Her cheeks felt hot when he said that. She had never ever been known as pretty, particularly by anyone who had seen another elf. Her brothers, although they loved her, used to tease that she was so ugly that she could break their looking glass.