The ride from Sernic was a nightmare of silence, it was purloining breaths from my throat. I rode beside Lord Kaldric, my heart beating frantically in horror of anticipation.
He misunderstood, he had perceived wrongly which became a reason for him to agonize me. In fact, this was the moment he was waiting for, where he was proven 'right'.
Several times, I opened my mouth to explain—to tell him that the "but" in my sentence was a defense of him, not a betrayal.
"My Lord, please, if you would just let me—"
"Be silent, Ardelle," he said coldly, his eyes fixed forward on the horizon. He didn't even turn his head.
"The King is ten paces ahead, and the entire vanguard is watching. Do not create a scene for them to feast upon. Save your theatrics for when there is no one left to applaud."
I shrank into my cloak, the wind biting at my face. I was frightened. Not of the road, but of the absolute, icy wall he had built between us. He wasn't just angry, he was convinced of my guilt.
And he would decide the punishment once we would camp.
The thought itself was frightening me.
When we finally made camp at sunset, the familiar routine of tents being pitched and fires being lit felt like a countdown to an execution.
I stood by the horses, my legs trembling from the long ride, not daring to move an inch.
"Ardelle. To the tent. Now," Lord Kaldric commanded as he handed his reins to a squire.
He didn't wait for an answer, turning toward our tent with a stride that suggested he was ready to tear me apart.
I didn't move, I couldn't. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I knew what waited for me in that tent—more accusations, more disgust, more of the stone silence that was slowly killing me.
Instead, I drifted toward the central fire where Sir Aldwin was overseeing the ration distribution.
"Sir Aldwin," I whispered, standing close to the knight. He was a buffer, a shield of kindness in a world of iron.
"May I... may I help with the supplies? I have no wish to go inside yet."
Sir Aldwin looked from me to the retreating back of the Commander, his brow furrowing with concern. "My Lady, it's best if you go."
"I don't want to." I whispered.
He sighed, "He's in a state I haven't seen in years. Staying here will only—"
"Ardelle!"
The booming sound echoed across the clearing, silencing the chatter of the soldiers.
Lord Kaldric stood at the entrance of our tent, his silhouette a dark, terrifying against the orange glow of the campfires.
He looked utterly infuriated and the longer I took to obey, the harsher it made him.
I stayed behind Sir Aldwin, my hand catching the knight's sleeve, a genuine look of horror crossing my face.
"Please," I whimpered.
Lord Kaldric didn't call a second time. He marched across the camp, his boots heavy and dominating. The soldiers parted like a sea before a storm.
He reached us in seconds, his silver eyes flashing with a humiliated, dangerous light. He didn't care about the 'scene' anymore. All he saw was disobedience he must fix.
"I gave you a command, woman." He began in a low, dangerous tone that weakened my knees.
"I... I was only helping—"
Before I could finish, his hand shot out. He didn't strike me fortunately, but he caught my arm in a grip of iron. With a sudden, violent jerk, he dragged me toward him.
"My Lord, you're hurting her!" Sir Aldwin started, stepping forward.
"Stay back, Aldwin!" Lord Kaldric roared, a warning so lethal the knight actually recoiled.
The men were staring in disbelief, wondering what possessed their Commander to be so violent with his bride.
He dragged me across the camp, my feet digging on the ground, holding his wrist to loosen the grip or shred mercy. I stumbled, my boots catching on roots and stones, my breath coming in broken, terrified sobs.
"My Lord, My–"
I could feel the eyes of every soldier—the men who called him a Pillar, the men who looked at me with pity. I was being treated like a prisoner, a common thief caught in the act.
"Please, Lord Kaldric! You're making a spectacle! Let go of me!" I cried, the tears streaming down my face, hot and shaming.
He didn't answer until he threw me into the tent as I fell on the ground, the heavy canvas flap falling shut behind us, cutting off the light of the camp.
We were in the dark, and for the first time, the darkness felt like a deathtrap rather than a sanctuary, it was suffocating for me.
Lord Kaldric's restraint snapped, he was breathless, fumes emitting from him. He turned on me, his face contorted into something unrecognizable– agony masquerading as rage.
"I was right to not trust you!" he roared, a frightening complaint that shook my very core.
Crawling back in apprehension, I shook my head in denial, tears spilling uncontrollably from my eyes.
"No.. no…"
"My mother was right to never hold faith in a woman's manipulation. She warned me that beauty is nothing but a hook for a man's pride."
Before my mind could register, the intensity of his presence terrified me as he shifted to one knee and grabbed a fistful of my hair, forcing me to stare into his stone-cold fury.
"You are just like all of them," he hissed.
"All those women," His silver eyes burning with a terrifying, fractured light. I had never seen such an extreme level of hatred in his eyes for me before.
"A creature of whispers and 'buts.' You look for the highest bidder. Nothing but a common whore who uses tears as a shield."
His other hand shot out, wiping all the traces of my traces with a harsh movement that made my skin sting. I cried out, my small frame trembling beneath the weight of his armored chest.
"No, no, no, I don't, My lord-"
He pressed his index finger dominantly over my lips roughly.
"Shh. Shhh. Shut your mouth. I have seen and heard enough, woman."
His eyes were wide, blazing with resentment and… disappointment? He refused to accept further justification, the anger had blinded him.
When I whimpered and the tears refused to halt, he hauled me to stand on my face. His body pressed against mine and to my utter surprise, I caught a glimpse of sorrow in his silver gaze.
For a moment, his composure slipped. His shoulders loosened, eyes narrowed with anguish and the finger on my lips began to tremble.
"I hate you, Ardelle." He got dangerously closer, his lips brushing against my nose.
"I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you."
That was the weakest confession I ever heard from him, in fact, his voice broke before announcing that.
My functioning shut down when I saw a crack in his heartless posture. But, before I could embrace it or cling onto it.
The wrath returned with a ten times darker ferocity and he pushed me away. He wasn't finished. The beast that had been prowling behind his ribs for days had finally taken the reins.
He grabbed a length of leather cord from his gear, the same cord used to secure a prisoner's wrists. My eyes widened, trying to hide my hands but he caught them.
"My Lord, please! No!" I begged, my tears hot and blinding.
"Be silent."
He caught my wrists, tying them together and secured them on the pole in the middle, forcing me to keep my hands up.
He used the brutal efficiency of a jailer. He bound my hands tightly, stopping the blood flow, the leather biting into my skin until my fingers began to grow cold and numb.
I stood there, broken and shaking, a prisoner in my own marriage. I was on my tiptoes, my head spinning at the punishment, whimpering, agonizing, it got hard to stand still with the drainage.
"My Lord, please, it hurts…! I can't take it…."
"It is made to hurt you so the next time your hand extends towards another man, they go numb remembering this."
His harsh reply came, right in front of me with his hands folded at his chest.
"... My hands did not extend for him. Why don't you get it? Please, my Lord, have mercy on me… I am your wife, not a prisoner."
"I see no difference in a traitor."
"Please…"
But even then, he didn't look satisfied. The sight of me bound and weeping seemed to fuel the fire in him rather than quench it. His eyes narrowed with a much ferocious strictness.
"Perhaps you are right."
With a rough, dismissive shove, he threw me onto the cot.
"I have a punishment that fits better for harlots like you," he growled, his shadow consuming me. Before my mind could register, his knee was between my legs.
He moved over me, his heavy, armored weight pinning me into the furs, my strength nothing compared to his crushing one. He pressed his cold weight on me and I was too frozen to scream, beg or react.
I… I didn't expect him to… do that.
With a punishing intensity, he buried his head in the crook of my neck, his kisses were harsh and painful, marked by a desperate, angry hunger.
His lips were cold, they were reviving the disgust I spent years fighting with.
His teeth suck onto my skin, shattering me from my trance when his armor had pinned me on the cot with his heat only enhancing my dread.
It was an act of reclamation, of press ownership. That monster couldn't be Lord Kaldric. Narrowing my eyes, with a trail of unstoppable tears, the scream I held back so far tore from my throat.
"KALDRIC, STOP!" I screamed wretchedly, my voice a broken whisper against the furs but surprisingly it was enough to stun him.
His grip immediately loosened on my wrist with his gaze widening of fathom what in hell's name was about to do.
"I'm not... I'm not what you think… Please, Kaldric. Please get away,"
I slipped my pleading in the moment he glitched, praying it could reduce his rage and help me receive some mercy.
His grip on the furs tightened, hasty breaths blending with my shaky ones, staring right into my soul with a strange hesitation I failed to encrypt.
"Ardelle, You–"
The world outside the tent chose that exact moment to intrude, dragging him out his haze before he could make an irredeemable mistake.
"COMMANDER KALDRIC! LADY ARDELLE!"
The Herald's voice rang out from the perimeter, sharp and official.
"His Majesty demands your presence in the royal pavilion immediately!"