Chained (Chained Trilogy) (13 page)

Evrain stood for their father, as Lord Clarion was too weak to leave his bed. Dressed in the blue and
silver colors of their house, he beamed proudly as he guided her through the parted crowd that had gathered in the temple. At the front of the throng was her mother and brothers, alongside Prince Gaiwan’s family. Her bridegroom was especially handsome in his white surcoat embroidered in the Bainard sky blue and white, his silver crown gleaming in the light of the stained glass windows. Beneath his surcoat, he wore a rich, damask doublet.  A chain of silver links crusted with sapphires hung around his neck. Gwen’s white silk gown boasted dagged sleeves that touched the floor, and a train edged in delicate lace that trailed behind her as she walked. Her white belt was studded with blue lapis lazuli and diamonds, pattered to look like the petals of flowers; a matching choker circled her throat. Her hair was braided and coiled before covered with a silver crespine, her head topped by her silver and sapphire circlet.

Gwen barely remembered the ceremony once it was done. She stared woodenly at the statue of Kya looming over them as the Lerrothian priest asked Gwen and Gaiwan to join hands before tying them together with a scrap of gold cloth. Between their bound hands, they cradled a chalice filled with pungent, vinegary red wine. Gaiwan drank fi
rst, then Gwen, and they recited the words together.

“Before the eyes of men and gods, I promise myself to Gaiwan Bainard. I proclaim my eternal lov
e for him, forsaking all others, and pledge him my loyalty.”

The words rang hollow to Gwen’s ears, but she said them as her eyes traced the pattern of Gaiwan’s surcoat. She felt his gaze burning her skin, but refused to meet it, knowing that he would see the truth if she did. She had no more love for this man than she did any other stranger. Once the words were spoken, the deed was done and she was Gaiwan’s.

The rest of the day passed Gwen by in a blur of feasting, wine, and entertainments. She barely ate or drank, her stomach a churning maelstrom of nerves. Her groom was jovial, as always, feeding her choice bites of meat from the end of his dagger and extoling her beauty to anyone who would listen. His empty flatteries fell on deaf ears as Gwen tuned him out, choosing to observe their guests. All her father’s vassals had come—her uncle, of course, the lord of Freyvale, as well as his lady wife and children. The whole of the Saint-Clair family of Vor’shy had come as well, though Lord Mador’s bastards were not honored with a seat at the high table; only Evrain’s wife, Lady Josaine, was given a place there—her marriage had erased the stain of her low birth. Josaine was only one of the four bastards Lord Mador had given his name and taken into his keep. That sort of thing was acceptable in the city of a thousand pleasures, but at Seahaven, bastards were banished to the lower tables.

Gwen frowned as she turned to her mother. “Where are the Bauldrys?” she whispered. Not one of them was in attendance, and Gwen found it odd. Even Lord Humber was notably absent.

Lady Enid’s mouth became pinched. “I haven’t the slightest notion,” she answered. “Lord Humber did not respond to our summons, not even to send his regrets that he could not attend. It is unspeakably rude of him.”

Rudeness was not a part of Lord Humber’s nature, and his loyalty to Lord Clarion ran deep. He was always the first to arrive and
the last to leave, enjoying any opportunity to feast in the company of his lord. Evrain had always said that Lord Humber would fall upon his own sword if their father asked it of him. Why then, would he neglect to attend the betrothal ceremony of Lord Clarion’s only daughter without sending his regrets? Her stomach churned even more, though she could not say why.

“It was an oversight,” Lady Enid continued with a sigh, “but one that we shall forgive.”

Something told Gwen that this was more than an oversight, but she decided to let the matter rest for now. She was likely only blowing this out of proportion, as she had the incident with the Daleraians in the wood. Anxiety had made her paranoid. Gwen focused on the task at hand: convincing Gaiwan and the people around her that she was content. She smiled and laughed as the fools juggled and jested, clapped as the minstrels played, danced with Gaiwan and all four of her brothers, as well as Lord Mador, and tried to make polite conversation with Queen Rhiannon.

Gwen knew the inevitable could be avoided no longer when the cooks proudly served
dessert. The massive confection was a pastry, shaped into a ship whose sails were emblazoned with the ocean wave symbol of House Bainard. On the deck of the ship the proud archer of House Toustain stood proudly, his bow and arrow raised. The ship swam in an ocean of tart cherry sauce.

The gathered feasters applauded and cheered as Gwen and Gaiwan used his shortsword to cut into the pastry together, and toasts were shouted through the
great hall over cups of honeyed wine. Before Gwen had swallowed the last of her wine, her mother and Queen Rhiannon were upon her.

“The time has come child,” Rhiannon said, the red rubies at her throat a match for her velvet gown.

Gwen followed them obediently up the northern staircase to her room, where Lynet removed her gown and undergarments, draping her in an emerald green bedrobe. Lynet tried to reassure her with a smile, but Gwen was beyond reassurance. Her hands trembled as she took her place behind the large red veil that had been hung to separate her bed from the rest of the room. Lady Enid, Queen Rhiannon, Lynet, and one of the queen’s handmaidens would witness the bedding from behind the veil. Gwen thought the Lerrothian custom barbaric and intrusive, but did not say so aloud. She was the perfect picture of the biddable daughter as she stood behind the veil, waiting for her betrothed, her hopes of an intimate wedding night with her husband dashed. Instead, he would mount her like a brood mare in front of an audience.

What a splendid way to begin our marriage,
she thought dryly.

Her heart leapt into her throat as the door to her bedchamber opened. Gwen could hear Gaiwan’s voice through the veil as he swept into the room, his silhouette intimidating through the curtain.

“Mother, Lady Enid, how lovely you are this evening.”

The two women stood and curtsied to the prince. “Your Grace is most kind,” Lady Enid replied.

“Your betrothed awaits on the other side of the veil, my son,” Rhiannon said, gesturing toward the curtain. “Do treat her gently.”

Gaiwan chuckled as he kissed his mother’s hand. “How could I treat my dear Gwendolyn poorly,
Mother? Never fear, Lady Enid, your daughter is in the best of hands.”

“I did not doubt it for a moment, Your Grace.”

Gwen rolled her eyes and turned away from their shadows. She knew that if Gaiwan wanted to have her on a table in the great hall before all of their guests, her mother would have allowed it. Anything for His Grace. Gwen heard the distinct whisper of fabric as Gaiwan crossed behind the veil, but did not turn around. Stiffness crept up her spine, and she raised her chin, staring out over the crashing ocean, grateful to Lynet for opening her shutters to the balmy evening air.

His hands gripped her shoulders and Gwen flinched.

“My betrothed is nervous, I think,” Gaiwan whispered, his body pressed against hers. “What to do?”

Gwen forced a smile and turned to face him. “I am not
nervous,” she lied.

Gaiwan
, who had removed his crown, surcoat, boots, and jewelry, stood before her in only his breeches and shirt, his feet bare and his chest exposed through his laces. His eyes traveled to her shoulders, left naked by the bedrobe, eyeing her dark skin with interest.

“Good,” he murmured. “Remove your robe, darling, I would look upon you.”

Gwen’s fingers fumbled at the knot at her waist for a moment before she freed it. Her eyes squeezed shut of their own accord as she allowed the garment to fall at her feet. Gaiwan sucked in a sharp breath, and she could feel his gaze upon her most intimate places—searing, probing, curious. She remembered Queen Rhiannon’s inspection the day before with embarrassment.

“She is quite thin,” the queen had said, one finger tapping her chin as she’d circled Gwen, eyeing her critically. “Not good for the bearing of sons.”

“I was thin at her age, Your Grace,” Lady Enid had hurriedly assured her. “When I quickened with Evrain, my body blossomed. I have never lost a child, and have recovered well after birthing each one. Dinasdalian women are hearty. Gwen will bear strong sons for Prince Gaiwan, you can be sure.”

She’d then been made to suffer an invasive exam by one of Lerrothe’s healers, who probed inside of her to ensure that she was coming to her betrothed a virgin.

“She’s never been tried,” the healer declared as Gwen dressed, thoroughly shamed.

“Good,” Rhiannon had declared. “She will do.”

Gwen shivered now as Gaiwan’s arm came around her from behind, his hand resting against her bare belly. The hardness of his lust pressed against her back and his lips found her neck.

“I am pleased,” he declared
. His other hand came up to gently circle her throat, and his thumb caressed her jaw. “Go lie on the bed.”

She obeyed, unable to look away as Gaiwan undressed. His body was long and lean, his skin golden everywhere—even beneath his chausses and
braies. Gwen fought back a smirk, thinking she must remember to tell Lynet that the stories about Lerrothian men sunning naked was true. Gwen’s throat constricted at the sight of Gaiwan’s sex, jutting away from his body proudly. The head of him was swollen, red with the blood that filled it. Gwen studied him curiously, knowing that the engorged cock was supposed to fit inside of her, but wondering how it was possible. There seemed to be much more of him than should be able to fit between her slender hips.

Gaiwan ended her inspection by climbing onto the bed and looming over her, his legs straddling her hips. Gwen shivered as
their bodies touched, but felt disappointed when she realized the shiver was more from fear than desire.

Tinitas
, give me strength.

Without preamble, Gaiwan parted her legs,
one hand coming between them to cup her mound. Gwen felt a tingle begin as he touched her intimately, one finger finding its way inside of her. Just as quickly, he pulled his hand away and the feeling was gone.

A gasp tore from her throat as Gaiwan’s hips slammed into hers. Her back arched and white hot pain surged through her
, as if he’d branded her with a searing iron from within. Gaiwan’s mouth clamped over hers—hard and unrelenting—as he repeated the motion again and again, smothering the scream burning in her chest. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she felt as if she would be torn asunder from the pain, suffocated by Gaiwan’s weight upon her and his bruising kiss.

H
e palmed her breasts, finding her nipples and pinching them lightly. Even with the burning pain between her thighs, Gwen began to feel the stirrings of pleasure at his touch. It was confusing, this burning between her thighs at odds with the tiny thrill of Gaiwan’s fingers working her tender nipples.

There must be pleasure to found here,
she thought.
Elsewise, why would so many women shame themselves by surrendering their maidenheads to their lovers?

Gwen had always known there would be pain—her mother had told her that much. However,
she’d had always imagined that her first bedding would be tender, and her husband would gently tutor her. The pain could be borne then, she’d always thought. A temporary pain would be nothing compared to the knowledge that she was with the man she loved.

This was nothing like she’d imagined, and Gwen’s tears were as much from disappointed as from pain.
She closed her eyes, wishing for the scorching agony and humiliation to cease. It finally did when Gaiwan stilled atop her, jerking violently and muffling a groan against her shoulder. His seed filled her in a rush of hot, sticky wetness.

Gwen lay there long after Gaiwan had risen
from atop her. She fixed her gaze on the setting sun through her open window, picturing herself standing on the ledge with the wind in her hair. Then she closed her eyes and inhaled the soothing smell of the sea. In her mind, Seahaven and Prince Gaiwan were no more than a speck on the horizon as she spread her arms and jumped, carried above the clouds and beyond, her face warmed by the light of the sun.

***

Refusing the hollowed crust of bread filled with stew Lord Guyar offered him, Caden resumed staring into the flames of the fire. They’d put Vor’shy behind them, losing themselves in the stretch of woods between the city of pleasures and Heywick. After Caden had spared Sir Marcel’s life, he and Lord Guyar gathered their men and left the city as fast as their horses could carry them. Caden did not doubt that retribution would be swift. They’d heard whispers of Lord Mador Saint-Clair’s absence—he’d traveled to Seahaven for Gwendolyn Toustain’s betrothal ceremony, and taken his bastard sons with him. However, word would reach him quickly, as it would Lord Humber.

Good,
Caden thought,
let them know that I am coming.

Guyar’s cousin, Mordrain Urry, had been charged with returning Asher’s body to Minas Bothe and delivering Caden’s hastily written letter to their parents. He regretted that he could not deliver the news in person as his mother deserved, but Caden could not let Asher’s murder go unavenged
; he owed it to his father to learn the truth. If Daleraians had truly attacked Heywick, then there could be a snake within House Maignart. One of their vassals had acted without his father’s knowledge, and likely broken the peace between them and the Toustains, which could bring dire consequences from King Merek.