Rhaegar leaned down, bracing one arm on either side of her body, caging her beneath him.
"Caelith..."
His voice was hoarse, seductive.
She bit down upon her lip and refused to answer.
Slowly, he lifted a hand and brushed his fingers against her cheek. The touch was feather-light.
Then his hand slid lower, coming to rest against her throat. He was not squeezing; his hand was simply resting there.
She could feel the heat of his palm—scalding hot—the roughened pads of his fingers grazing slowly across her skin.
Her entire body trembled.
"Rhaegar..."
Without warning, he lifted his hand.
Smack.
A soft sound landed against her thigh. It did not truly hurt, yet the sensation was sohow more humiliating than pain itself.
She froze in disbelief, and then color surged violently into her face.
"You... you struck ?"
He said nothing, and then, another soft smack followed, slightly heavier than before.
At once, her eyes reddened. Not from pain, but from sha, from indignation, from the unbearable humiliation of being punished like a misbehaving child beneath his gaze.
"Rhaegar, stop it at once!"
She struggled fiercely now, twisting against the bindings until the leather cords left angry red marks upon her wrists. She lifted a leg, trying to kick him away, but he caught her ankle in one hand.
His palm was large enough to encircle it completely. His thumb stroked lightly along the inside of her ankle—the most sensitive place upon her body.
A shiver coursed over her skin, all her strength seed to drain away at once.
Still holding her ankle, his hand moved slowly upward.
Even through the thin fabric of her robes, she could feel the heat of his palm, scorching enough to make her heart quiver.
"Rhaegar..." Her voice trembled.
He looked at her in silence. In the moonlight, her cheeks were flushed crimson, her lashes damp with unshed tears, her lips swollen from his kisses. Beneath him, she could neither escape nor break free.
Sothing darkened further within his gaze. He lowered himself until his lips brushed her ear.
"Caelith..."
"What... ist it..?"
"In the future, you are not to speak with him again."
Caelith blinked, confused for a mont. "With whom?"
He did not answer. Then she understood.
"Lord Ostenton?"
Still, he gave no reply. He only tightened his hold around her body, drawing her closer until breathing itself beca difficult.
"Rhaegar, there is nothing between us. He and I are rely—"
"No." His voice was low and muffled beside her ear. "You are not to look at him. Not to smile at him. Not to speak with him."
She stared at him in disbelief. "Do you intend to be this unreasonable?"
"I do."
He lifted his head and looked directly at her. Those eyes glead in the darkness with a frightening intensity.
"Caelith, you belong to . You may only look at , only smile for , only speak to ."
She glared at him as if he were madness itself. "And how am I ant to go out in the future? There are people everywhere in the streets. Am I to look at no one?"
"No one."
"And if the vegetable vendor speaks to ?"
"Do not answer."
She stared at him as though he had truly gone mad. "You’ve lost your mind."
"I have."
Then he lowered his head and kissed her again. This kiss was fiercer still.
Dazed beneath him, she tried to push him away, but her hands remained bound. She tried to kick him, but his weight pinned her legs in place.
In the end, she could only let him kiss her as he pleased.
When he finally released her, he murmured against her lips, "Promise ."
Breathing hard, she glared up at him with the fire of resistance. "I will not."
His eyes narrowed. "You refuse?"
"I refuse."
He looked at her for a very long ti. Then, he smiled, and that smile sent a cold shiver down her spine.
"Very well," he said softly.
Before she could react, he lowered his head again.
This ti, he did not kiss her. He bit lightly against her collarbone. Not enough to hurt, but enough to leave her trembling from the strange, tingling sensation.
"Rhaegar..."
He lifted his gaze to hers. "Will you promise now?"
She bit down upon her lip stubbornly. "No."
He lowered his head once more.
This ti, his teeth closed gently against the side of her neck. Slightly harder than before.
Still, she refused.
Then he changed places.
He moved to her shoulder.
Her arm.
Her chest.
Her waist...
Caelith no longer rembered how long it continued.
Only that each ti he asked, "Will you promise?" she answered, "No."
And each ti, he continued.
Later, she stopped speaking altogether. Not because she had yielded, but because she no longer possessed the strength to resist.
By the ti dawn neared, he held her tightly in his arms and whispered against her ear:
"Caelith... you are mine. Do not say otherwise."
Eyes closed, she said nothing. Only the faintest curve touched the corners of her lips.
And Rhaegar caught it.
"What are you smiling at?"
She did not answer. He only held her tighter still.
Outside the window, the sky had begun to brighten.
***
Lady Lian did not sleep at all that night.
Ever since returning from Caelith’s residence, unease had gnawed ceaselessly at her heart. While preparing tea, she mistook salt for sugar. While arranging porcelain, she shattered a plate. When Nareen spoke to her, she caught only half the words.
That evening, after Nareen had fallen asleep, Lady Lian lay awake upon her bed, turning restlessly from side to side.
The mont she closed her eyes, she saw that wooden box again.
She knew it too well.
Thirty years ago, there had once been a young woman surnad Trian who possessed a box just like it.
The girl had co to the capital seeking distant relatives, yet failed to find them. For a ti, she worked at the embroidery workshop to support herself.
She spoke little, but when she smiled, she was beautiful. Her embroidery was exquisite as well—when she stitched peonies, they seed almost alive upon the silk.
Her na had been Ayana.
At the ti, Lady Lian herself had still been young, working as an embroiderer at the workshop to help her father with his business. When Ayana first arrived, it was Lady Lian who welcod her. The two were of similar age and soon beca close, often eating together, talking late into the evenings as they worked side by side.
Later, Ayana got married. Her husband was Viscount Aeron Emberlyn.
Lady Lian had t the young heir of the Emberlyn household before. He was handso and upright, gentle in temperant. He had co several tis to fetch Ayana from the workshop, and whenever the two stood together, they looked perfectly matched.
Although Ayana was an orphan of no noble status, her upright education and impeccable manners chard the Emberlyn family without fail, allowing them to break the family rule and welco a commoner into their ho.
On the day Ayana married, Lady Lian had gone to see her off.
Clad in white bridal robes, Ayana had smiled brightly and said to her, "My dear Florentine, you must co visit often in the future."
Lady Lian had promised she would, but not long afterward, disaster struck.
That day, rain had been falling heavily when soone ca bearing news that calamity had befallen the Emberlyn family.
Lady Lian rushed out to see for herself, but all she saw were two bodies covered in black cloth... and blood staining the ground a terrible crimson.
Ayana was gone.
Leaving behind only a daughter.
And that daughter... was Caelith Emberlyn.
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