Namoriee felt as if she were drowning. Her surroundings were blurred, her heart beating incredibly fast, like it was working extra hard to keep her alive. Her breaths, loud with each exhale, echoed in her ears. Everything was enhanced, yet dulled. It was an oxymoron that matched her feelings.
I waited two winters to make you my wife; I’m not waiting any longer.
She was terrified of that fact. Terrified of the longing and conviction in that baritone. But more than that, she was terrified of the zing of excitement that zipped through her being at the possessiveness Tyronian exuded when his lips had locked onto hers yesterday.
She had tensed, frozen in shock, but the moment his tongue had touched hers, she felt herself relax and give in. It was as if her body knew, deep within her bones, that she belonged to him. He called to her constantly. But no matter what feelings he invoked, she would never give in to her secret wants and desires, because she knew that he deserved better. She refused to let him taint his honor.
Grasping the resolve that thought warranted, Namoriee’s spine straightened, and she forged ahead to the round ring that held the most terrifying man in all of Samaria.
“How did she take it?”
Tyronian was ashamed to say that he jumped at the voice that had distilled his quiet musings. Turning, he cursed Tristan, who had a barely-there smirk on his face. The bastard knew he had startled him.
“Not very well,” Tyronian replied.
Seven days ago, he had told Namoriee that they were getting married, and since then the village had been busy preparing for the wedding, much to the dismay of Namoriee. He grinned, thinking back to the conversation he had with Xavier a few days ago. The chief told Tyronian that Namoriee had sought him out to ask him to deny the marriage.
For most men, that would have insulted them, but it just made Tyronian grin at the fact that his sweet Namoriee had gathered enough courage to make such a request.
“When did you get back?” he asked Tristan, following his movements as he lowered himself to sit beside him.
Tristan was Xavier’s brother, and in many ways, they looked similar, but there were subtle differences too. Like how Tristan’s hair was just a shade lighter than Xavier’s, and while Xavier kept his hair long and brushing his shoulders, Tristan’s was shaved on the sides, the remainder of his locks piled on top of his head in a bun. Tristan’s physique was slimmer than his brother’s very muscular frame, but they both shared broad shoulders. The thing that really set them apart was the long, jagged scar that cut from Tristan’s left temple down to mid-cheek.
It made him look dangerous.
“Just now,” Tristan replied. “I couldn’t miss my favorite cousin’s wedding, now could I?”
“Don’t I feel special,” he laughed. “How long will you stay this time?”
His expression didn’t waver at the question, but Tyronian caught the primal glint that flashed in his eyes.
During the war of the tribes, Namoriee and Leawyn were kidnapped, but they had managed to escape with the help of a mysterious woman. When the war was over, Leawyn had sent Tristan on a mission to find that woman and thank her. What had started out as a simple request quickly became an obsession for his cousin. Tyronian didn’t know much, or what had happened, but Tristan’s presence within the tribe had been scarce the last few years.
“I leave at dawn.”
His brow arched at his cousin’s tone. “Well, you sure don’t waste any time.”
Tristan’s response was to grunt. There was companionable silence between them as they watched the final preparations come about. The wedding ceremony would take place at sunset, and then a giant feast would follow immediately after to celebrate.
Surprisingly, Tristan was the one to break the silence.
“Will you ever tell her?”
Tyronian’s content expression changed, and he shot an angry look at his cousin. “Why would you bring that up?”
“She deserves to know. You know what you’re giving up by marrying her.”
He scoffed. “I give up nothing. You know as well as I do that there’s no proof, nor a law that deems it so.”
Tristan shook his head in disapproval and met Tyronian’s eyes calmly. “She was brought to us, Tyronian. No one knows where she came from, or who her parents are.”
“I don’t care,” he replied bluntly, annoyed with Tristan’s questioning. “She grew up here, and that’s all that matters. No one knows the truth besides me, you, and Xavier.”
Tyronian stood, bushing the dirt and grass off himself. “Now, if you’re done trying to ruin my mood on my wedding day, then maybe we can get ready. I see a bath in your future. You smell.”
Tristan chuckled under his breath but stood up nonetheless. “Suit yourself. But sooner or later, you’ll have to tell her. Because if you don’t, she’ll find out on her own.”
“She hasn’t so far,” he pointed out as they started walking. “I don’t plan for that to change.”
Tristan said nothing in response, but Tyronian could tell he wasn’t convinced.
“There,” Leawyn said, stepping back from her with a smile. “You look beautiful.”
Namoriee weakly smiled back, her lips unable to muster the joy in the movement. They were in Leawyn’s hut, preparing for Namoriee’s wedding.
They were alone, Xavier having taken Xillik with him to give them privacy. When Tyronian announced the news to the tribe, everyone had cheered, and the days seemed to fly by as the tribe prepared for another wedding. Usually, when a member of the tribe wanted to marry, all that was required was for the tribe elder to say the marriage incantation and to merge blood. But since Tyronian was Chief Xavier’s cousin, and a candidate to take over the tribe should anything happen to Xavier and Tristan, his wedding was a big enough ordeal to receive a mighty celebration.
The whole tribe would be in attendance to watch Tyronian claim her as his wife and effectively steal her life away from her.
“You’ll be fine,” Leawyn promised. “Tyronian is a good man.”
She dropped her gaze from Leawyn’s. She knew that Tyronian was a good man—at least compared to the other men in their village. After all, most showed love only to their horses. Tyronian broke the mold with his easygoing nature and charm. He smiled and joked, but underneath that, he was still a strong and fierce warrior. Something he proved the day of the Warrior Choosing when he challenged Cantos, a Siraces warrior, and defeated him by decapitating him.
But even with that knowledge, how could Namoriee tell Leawyn that it wasn’t the actual wedding she was worried about, but what was expected after.
Just thinking about it made Namoriee’s heart race with panic and fear. Leawyn took her in with a keen eye.
“Are you nervous about tonight?” she asked. Her eyes glittered with understanding.
“I don’t want to do this,” Namoriee whispered, close to tears. “Why is he making me do this?”
“Our warriors are a different breed of men.” Leawyn sighed. “When they want something, they take it. Tyronian has wanted you for as long as I have known him. The way he looks at you . . .” Leawyn trailed off for a moment. “I knew there was no way he would let you go, and I think you did, too.”
Leawyn was right, she did know that Tyronian would claim her. He told her he would, promised even.
Whether you like it or not.
“I’m not ready,” Namoriee admitted.
Leawyn’s expression softened, reaching up to brush the tear that slipped from her eye before she cupped her cheek gently.
“We never are,” Leawyn whispered empathically. “Tyronian is a good man, and he cares about you. I don’t think it will be like . . .” Leawyn cut herself off, a faraway look in her eyes.
She didn’t have to finish, though. Namoriee knew that she was talking about her own wedding night, and she could only imagine how terrible that was for her. Leawyn was arranged to marry Xavier when she was eighteen winters. But, unlike Namoriee, she was forced to marry a man who was cold-hearted and cruel. Known to be the fiercest warrior in all the land, Xavier wasn’t warm or compassionate; he was the exact opposite of his wife.
Namoriee had witnessed the start of their relationship, and still to this day, she didn’t understand what made Leawyn stay. Xavier was horrible to her, and his possessiveness of Leawyn was unrivaled. It seemed like he did everything in his power to break her, but she never crumbled.
Though they didn’t start off in love, Namoriee could see the change in Xavier and their relationship. He was more . . . tame. Like his soul had found its home.
“How are you?” Namoriee asked in a soft tone, worried.
Leawyn’s eyes flashed with pain, her hands flying up to rest on her stomach that was just starting to show. “I’m fine.” Leawyn smiled, though it still held traces of her pain. “I don’t think it will be like last time.”
Leawyn and Xavier had been expecting their second child, but sadly, the baby didn’t make it through the night.
It was a little girl.
“Enough about me,” Leawyn said abruptly, her smile back but hiding her lingering pain unsuccessfully. “This is about you. Are you ready?”
Namoriee’s heart sped up and froze all at the same time. No, she wasn’t. She didn’t think she’d ever be ready.
But she didn’t say that.
“I’m ready.”
Namoriee’s heart was hammering in her chest with such intensity, she was afraid she would pass out.
She was dressed in the white gown that Leawyn had helped her into earlier, and the light breeze made the strands of her chocolate hair flutter like a butterfly as she walked closer to the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Everyone stared as she passed, but she paid them no attention. Her gaze was focused solely on Tyronian and the hungry look in his eyes as she drew closer.
His expression was one of reverence as his eyes took their time traveling her body from head to toe in a move that made Namoriee’s body feel hot and cold simultaneously. He took her hands, and she knew he could feel the tremble in them. Giving them a reassuring squeeze, he turned his attention to the village elder, nodding his confirmation for the ceremony to start.
As the elder started to speak the ancient script, Namoriee studied Tyronian.
Tribal marriage symbols were painted down his bare chest, looping over his wide-set shoulders and down his arms. He wore his long blond hair down and untamed.
The elder’s movement brought Namoriee out of her inspection, and she watched with wide eyes the ceremonial dagger in her withered hand. Tyronian’s grip became shackles, keeping her from running away from him when she took an involuntary step back.
They had reached the final part of the marriage ceremony.
Tremors rippled through her entire body when he stepped forward, bringing their hands up between them. “Relax,” he whispered.
“Please don’t do this,” she pleaded, her voice barely audible. “Don’t do this to me.”
Her only answer was the firm set of his lips and the sound of his skin splitting open when the elder sliced his palm. She tried to pull back again, her apprehension becoming full-blown panic, but his grip was unrelenting. She cried out in pain when the dagger dragged down her palm, tearing her delicate flesh. She flinched when he pressed their bleeding hands together tightly, intermixing their blood and sealing their marriage to the gods.
She felt nothing.
Not the blood that trailed down her wrists, or the heat of his skin.
She heard nothing; not the cheers from their guests, or the ringing in her ears.
She felt nothing.
She heard nothing.
She raised her head, and as her eyes met Tyronian’s blues, she saw everything. Their gaze stayed locked as he bowed towards her.
“Whether you like it or not.” He whispered the recurring vow he’d made to her all those years ago. The glint in his eyes as he said the words right before he kissed her stopped her dead.
That was the moment she knew.
Her life would never be the same again.