[Music Recommendation: History Untold by Micheal Curran]
As soon as she settled and he did shortly after, the carriage lurched forward. The wheels began to turn, groaning against the road and Lucrezia's gaze drifted toward the window, evoking the face of the demons that sold her death, including Princess Alethea and Princess Sophia. They clutched their handkerchiefs to their nose, fake-crying to put an impression. The sight might have amused her once but now, her chest tightened.
Lucrezia couldn't blame them. She could almost hear their cruel voices and laughter again, the kind that had always condemned her.
She shivered at the thought of their real faces when the past caught up, clutching her cloak closer. Of all the things she'd left behind, that was among the top things on her list she definitely wouldn't miss.
But then, her eyes unwillingly sought for another face among the crowd until it fell on Crown Prince Edmund who stood among the line of royals, and her heart skipped.
He was dressed in a robe of gold and silver, hair perfectly combed complementing his facial structure. His usual indecipherable expression defined his procession as the Crown Prince, emitting power and authority. But something else swirled in those eyes, one Lucrezia couldn't dare imagine.
Life as the Cursed breed of Veximoor had never been merciful, especially within the cold walls of the castle. There, Lucrezia was worse than the servants who knew nothing but labor and scorn, yet outside, she was known as 'the bad omen', 'The Cursed', and most popularly 'the evil witch of Veximoor'.
The Kingdom of Veximoor of House Bathory was known for werewolf bloodlines, fabled The Beast of All Seven. The strongest, mightiest, and greatest among the other pack. After her birth, it was said that one of the lands dominated by the Thornhill Clan, was massacred cold-bloodedly—Lady Myriah's pack, taking her family at a young age.
They said the curse of the Unknown began with an infant's first cry. This was another reason they chose to trade her instead of her step-sister, believing the curse would follow her path.
Lucrezia knew of the tale like the back of her hand, as one might know every shape of a scar; the details and accusations. The villagers knew to remind her when they pelted spoiled tomatoes, blackened fruits, and other things on her on her way to the castle.
Of course, her father—King Vladimir—never let her forget the curse buried deep in her marrow and veins. Although a carriage awaited her, Lucrezia was to walk barefoot to the capital, hurled with the venomous words of children and their mothers.
Clothed in rags, the Princesses—especially Princess Sophia and Princess Althea—made her scrub the floors. On her visiting days, Lucreiza would scrub them until her hands bled and polish silverware until her reflection mocked her that even the servants whispered behind her back in fear that her curse might cling to them the more she lingered.
But during those times—sometimes, to be precise—Crown Prince Edmund intervened. One of those times she truly acknowledged him was on her seventeenth birthday.
Lucrezia had only meant to visit her mother as she did twice every year, slipping quietly into the glided corridor of the castle she once called home. Once believed her presence made some difference, however, she encountered Princess Alethea at the turn of the hall, and Princess Sophia who trailed behind. She was ordered to fetch a cup of coffee, which she did, only to return drenched in it.
Princess Alethea accused her of disobedience and demanded a punishment to strip Lucrezia bare before the open courtyard. The guards hesitated, unsure whether the cruelty could be justified, yet no one dared to oppose a princess. Fair enough, she was a witch. Thankfully that day, Crown Prince Edmund interceded, halting the humiliation before it unfolded. That was the first time Lucrezia had been with a man so close, so close she could feel-
The carriage hit a stone, snapping her back to the present. Her fingers slipped from the curtain, and she blinked, realizing how tightly she'd been clutching it and heat crawled up her face in embarrassment as the memory faded.
The world beyond the window moved until those faces, banners, tower, castle, and world behind faded into distance and dust. Lucrezia released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding only to stiffen when the air beside her shifted.
"Are you thinking of another man?" The unforgiveness in that question had her flinch in response.
Lucrezia's heart hammered against her rib, as she turned slowly. Beside her sat the creature—her husband—whom for a second, didn't realize his presence. She had been carried away—thank the gods—but only for a fleeting moment, to return staring at those hazel eyes.
There was something about it, some kind of strong dark attraction gleaming faintly in the dim carriage light, watching her with an unreadable expression.
Lucrezia didn't know what to name it, but whatever it was had a strong effect on her. The eyes of a Sin.
She heard a saying, a few times to be precise, especially in the past weeks before her marriage. 'Sins are dangerous and manipulative, a deadly lure to the soul and the strongest heart; to resist them, one must steer clear, lest they become an eternal sinner.'
They are dangerous and those scarred Lords in human form, were most deadly. Including the one she was now married to. But the more Lucrezia tried to resist those eyes, the more enticed she was by them.
Shadows seemed to curl around him from unseen flames and she swallowed hard, lowering her gaze after the utmost ordeal.
She knew she should answer, but her voice was lost. It was only after a while, "N-No," Lucrezia whispered, even though she could hear the tremor and ugliness in them.
There was a faint tug from the mask, definitely not a smile, and still not anything at all. "Good," he murmured. "Because I don't share."
Outside, lightning flashed across the horizon as the carriage pressed onward to the cursed Kingdom. Lucrezia tried to breathe, but it was becoming more of a task than a necessity.
The ride was expectedly quiet all through and her gaze returned to the window, watching the sight of houses and cottages, before trees, and then old woods when they successfully crossed the border.
It was left without bark and stakes empty without color. Not even a single leaf could be spotted on them, dried and utterly lifeless. Initially, they were dead, just like this forbidden land.
The carriage occasionally slammed her weight side-by-side, its bumpiness eliciting a wince from her.
She recognized those roads. There were the old roads tattletaled in rumors and gossip.
At midnight when villagers were peacefully asleep, some dreaming, a few probably having nightmares, preparing for what dawn had to offer, Lucrezia was wide-awaken, watching death offer a passage into Hell.
Not in her wildest imagination did she think to be married this way. Wedding at midnight, dressed in a black bridal gown, the groom's absence, no friends or family, and shipped like a sacrificial lamb to an altar.
And at that point, she knew this was no wedding. It was an offering.
Lightning flashes across the sky, evoking the raucous crack of thunder as the roof thumped from heaven's heavy downpour.
For a while, the carriage moved in silence at the intense rhythm, the wheels clattering over stones and gravel, carrying them along through bumps and rough path.
Lucrezia stood straight, so straight she could hear her spine crack. She tried not to focus on the little details that made her uncomfortable from her… husband.
Although he kept quite a good distance away, his presence was a whole lot to take in and the carriage made things worse.
Each bump jolted her bones, sending a shudder through the wooden frame and she clenched her jaw, fighting the instinct to reach for something, anything there is, to steady herself.
She had never traveled on a long journey. Never really been inside a carriage before. This whole thing… everything was new to her.
She was uncomfortable and unable to relax, and she didn't think anyone in her position would relax this easily.
In a beat, Lucrezia peeked through her lashes at the side where he remained unmoving through the violence of the road. Though her eyes were obstructed by the veil, the carriage was built with lamps that highlighted his face and every perfect outline she believed was hideous to look at.
His broad shoulder barely shifted or flinched, as his gloved hands rested on his knees. His eyes were focused carefully on the world outside.
Now he was closer, and the smell of old wood spice lingered in the air more than what she breathed. The way his posture remained relaxed against the brutality of the bad road struck her.
And again, he wasn't any ordinary creature.
Lucrezia barely had the time to ponder when the wheels hit another cruel dip in the earth, dragging her attention away, almost bumping into him.
She winced, though kept her expression impassive instead, but the ache was persistent, even worse with every bounce of the carriage. A bead of sweat clammed across her forehead and rolled down her temple and along the side of her cheek yet she dared not wipe it away. Dared not move.
Another formed at the spine of her back, soaking the thin layered fabric beneath the heavy cloak. Despite the dull cloud and breeze escaping into the carriage, it did more harm than good against the heat spreading fast like a disease into her veins.
Why was everywhere so hot?
"Come here,"
Those words struck harder than the carriage's jarring wheels and she jerked slightly at the cold and unmistakable tone.
Lucrezia's heart pounded against her chest as she straightened her spine, already aching from tension, more instinctively than willingly as though sheer posture could deflect the request. Or rather, command.
Her fingers were numb from the cold and unusually sweaty as she pressed a hand against her chest, trying to steady the desperate rise and fall beneath the fabric. But the more she lingered, the more difficult it was to breathe.
His tone dropped lower, a dark threatening murmur when he said, "Come. Closer." Still, Lucrezia hesitated, unable to move her body pinned between fear and fading breath. She could taste the metallic tang of panic in her mouth and every swallow became harder than the last.
Breathe, Lucrezia. Breathe... but it was more arduous than necessary.
"Blue," It was low, cold, and precise, holding a bit of restraint in them as his jaw ticked when his gaze fell on her. "Come here. Unless you want to die."