Gods and Dark Creatures (Book 3)

CH. 8: Amaya

A sumptuous banquet for the Amorite lords was held in the Golden Palace, and the new king of the Silla kingdom, King Ara, was to attend. When the old king died, his successor came to negotiate the terms of a truce with the Shadow King, which his father refused. Dead King Edric refused to cooperate with the Shadow King. At no cost. However, the Shadow King was not opposed, and so their kingdom was forced to suffer.

Amaya was preparing for a feast that Arawn had forced her to attend. Ever since she made a deal with him thirty years ago to save the life of the prince she loved, he had controlled her entire life. She had to follow his orders every second of every day. She was just a puppet in his hands. Her movements no longer belonged to her. Her words were no longer her words. She became a mindless instrument of his power.

Sometimes he was nice, treating her like the love of his life, and other times he was the monster everyone thought he was. For example, when he tried to destroy the bond between her and Ciaran, now actually King Ciaran, the ruler of Deira. When their deal forced her to return to him, she asked him to break the bond. At first, he seemed to succeed, but a few days later it reappeared. He tried again and again over the years, but he never managed to break the bond. He tried to erase Ciaran from her memories, but he still haunted her in her dreams. He was furious about it. It drove him insane, and he took that anger out on her. However, he could also be gentle. At least she told herself to endure the hell with him.

They were lying in bed. Arawn kissed her and she returned the kiss coldly. His kisses were far from tender. They were predatory. He claimed her entire being. He nibbled gracefully on her lower lip. She tasted her own blood on her tongue.

"I had your dress prepared for the evening," he told her.

"You want to show me off as your property again?" she asked him.

"But you are my property, Amaya. Don't forget that." Arawn said, a mischievous smile adorning his lips.

"How could I." Amaya rolled her eyes.

Arawn got off the bed and left her alone. "Go get ready," he told her before disappearing through the door of her chamber. "Wear the dress I got prepared for you."

Amaya threw her bathrobe over her and went to look at the dress he had sent her for the evening. They were the colors of the ocean. They were decorated with gold ornaments. They wound around the neck, around the hands. They were narrow, widening at the bottom like a siren's tail. A perfect cut in which she will not be able to move. He wanted her to be as vulnerable as possible.

And it wouldn't be her if she didn't show him her defiance.

⸸

The guests were waiting for the arrival of the queen. The Shadow King was getting impatient. He was about to go look her to her chambers when she finally showed herself. However, as soon as he saw her, he would have preferred if she had not shown herself at all. He would be less angry.

She appeared dressed in a red dress. Red as blood. Her skirt was open in the front so she could move freely. Her hair was held back with gold clips. Perhaps no one else saw it, but she was well aware of the fury burning in Arawn's eyes that could burn the entire world. She was almost intimately familiar with it.

Arawn swallowed his anger and his desire to remind her of who she belonged to and nonchalantly approached her. He took her hand in his. Like a true gentleman, he kissed her on the cheek.

"Darling," he glared at her.

"My king." She bowed softly to him.

They turned to the guests, who were impatiently waiting for the feast to begin. The lords bowed before them.