PHAELENX - ZHEKAN MATES BOOK THREE
CHAPTER ONE
Selene
Selene Covendane rolled over in bed, sighing with impatience. For the love of the gods, why won’t they go to bed, she thought angrily. I’ve been waiting for hours! She tossed and turned, groaning as she flipped her pillow to the cool side. By the time they finally go to sleep, I’ll be asleep myself!
Selene stifled a yawn. She twisted her hands in her long, dark hair and pulled it into a loose knot at the nape of her neck. When she closed her eyes, she felt a flicker of irritation swell inside of her stomach.
As usual, Selene had feigned illness, skipped dinner, and gone straight to her chamber in order to wait for the rest of her family to sleep. Her brother, Baelan, was normally out bedding chambermaids in bales of hay or riding fearlessly through the woods or whatever stupid, arrogant young men did. And their parents, Arsinoe and Ashton, would have normally gone to bed hours ago.
What could possibly be keeping them?
Selene groaned and covered her head with a goose-down pillow. She was exhausted, but it wasn’t enough to keep her in bed. She sat up and tossed the pillow to the stone floor, coughing as feathers filled the air and drifted down towards the bed. Swinging her legs over the side of her bed, Selene got to her feet and crept silently across the floor. The cold stone chilled the soles of her bare feet and she suppressed a shiver. Walking across her large chamber to her wardrobe, Selene took hold of one wooden door and pulled it open, gritting her teeth and cringing as the hinges squeaked.
“Be quiet,” Selene ordered the piece of furniture, glaring. “You always want to spoil my plans!”
The ancient wooden wardrobe creaked as if it were replying. Selene pulled loose her warmest cloak – soft wool, lined with ermine – and draped it over her shoulders, enjoying the weight of the fabric. She shivered as she fastened the clasp at her throat, pulling her hair loose and repinning it against her head with a long silver pin.
Selene grabbed a pair of fur-lined boots and pulled them on, relishing the sensation of her toes burrowing into the soft material. She cautiously walked across the floor and pressed her ear to the door of her chamber.
Damn! Selene thought angrily, balling her hands into fists. They’re still talking!
Judging by the way the moon hung high in the sky, Selene guessed that it was at least two hours past midnight. She rolled her eyes as she stared out the window, looking down at the sloping green lawn below the royal compound. As a royal cousin, Selene enjoyed the finest privileges in life. She ate the finest foods, wore the most splendid clothing, and was quite used to a life of luxury.
And yet, despite everything Selene had been blessed with in life, she wasn’t happy. She sat, usually mired in boredom, at the Covendane table every day, for each meal. She listened to her brother, Baelan, talk about wining and dining and wooing women all over Zheka for hours. She listened to her mother, Arsinoe, extol the virtues of how proper Zhekan women should behave.
But most of all, she longed for freedom. Each day it felt like a new challenge to stifle the urge to scream that began building inside of her from the dawn’s first light. There were some days when Selene would go to her wardrobe and bury her face in the silk, fur, and wool, just to muffle the sounds of her frustrated screams. She understood that life in Zheka was seen as ideal – and perhaps it was, for those who enjoyed it.
But Selene had always felt like an outsider. In her childhood and teen years, Selene had thought that she would grow to accept life, to feel comfortable in her status, and to seek what Arsinoe wanted most from her – a stable marriage, with children of her own. But those urges had never come naturally to her, and Selene wondered what would become of her life. She felt out of control, like a horse galloping wildly off-course, like she had no say in her own destiny.
Such was why she enjoyed sneaking out of the royal compound at night. Selene had one true passion in life: listening to the tales of visiting travelers. She loved hearing stories from other lands, and she envied the lives of those who spent their days moving from one place to the other. The travelers were often poor – more than once, Selene had snuck out of the compound with a giant basket of pilfered food from the kitchens and stolen robes from the royal closets. But poverty mattered not to Selene, or so she told herself. These people are truly free, she thought. They can live and do as they please – no rules, no expectations, and no consequences.
As Selene waited by the door, she closed her eyes and muttered a silent prayer to the gods. Please, she thought. Please, let them go to sleep! If they stay up much longer, I won’t be able to leave at all!
Finally, as the clock chimed a quarter past three, Selene heard the muffled yawns and shuffled footsteps of her parents as they made their way into their own chamber, down the hall from her own. She leaned against the door and silently counted to thirty before pushing her door open and slipping down the dimly-lit hall. Torches blazed on the wall and Selene took one, holding it high in the air in front of her. The smoke from the flame scorched her face but she grinned – she had grown used to this sensation and had learned to associate it with the excitement of leaving the compound.
“And just where do you think you’re going?”
Selene groaned. “Baelan, what are you doing awake?” She turned, smirking at her older brother. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere else? With some maid, in a pile of straw?”
Baelan rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his bulky, muscular chest. Despite the seven-year age difference, Selene and Baelan were often thought to be twins. Both had deeply tanned skin, masses of thick, dark hair, and bright blue eyes.
“Already finished,” Baelan replied with a triumphant smirk. “She was quite game, as usual.”
“You’re disgusting,” Selene replied. “Now, please. Out of my way.”
Baelan threw his head back and laughed. “I think Mother would be rather interested to know what you’re doing,” he said arrogantly. “Have you finally found some poor sap willing to marry you?”
“Shut up,” Selene hissed. “You have to be quiet, they’re going to hear!”
Baelan rolled his eyes. “The wine was flowing like milk,” he said. “I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you.”
“Then pass, brother, and allow me to leave,” Selene said. When Baelan didn’t move, she twisted her lips into a snarl.
“Why should I?” Baelan asked smugly. He raised his eyebrows at his younger sister. “You’re a bit old to be sneaking out.”
Infuriated, Selene stomped her foot on the stone floor. “You’re one to talk,” she snapped. “You leave almost every night!”
“At least it isn’t because I want to hang out with gypsies,” Baelan sneered. “I know better than you, Selene.”
“Just let me go,” Selene said. When Baelan didn’t reply, she lowered her eyes. “Please,” she added in a soft voice. “I promise, nothing bad is going to happen.”
Baelan laughed. “You’re awfully confident for someone sneaking out,” he said.
“It’s because I do it almost every night,” Selene countered. “Come on. Please,” she repeated. “Just let me go.”
Baelan stared at his sister for a long time before shrugging. “Fine,” he said with a yawn. “See if I care tomorrow morning when you’re falling asleep in your porridge.”
Selene rolled her eyes. “Thanks,” she muttered under her breath. Then she pushed past her brother and stalked down the long hall that led to the castle grounds.
Once outside, Selene breathed a sigh of relief. The air was chill, and it stung her chest as she inhaled, but she didn’t care. She knew that the cold fresh air was like a taste of freedom, and she didn’t intend to waste a single moment. Selene felt awake and refreshed as she made her way down the sloping emerald lawn and towards the docks. She could see the faint glimpse of a campfire and the orange-red reflection on the rolling waters below. A surge of adrenaline shot through her veins and she shivered with excitement as she made her way over to the traveling men and women.
When she reached the group, Selene dropped to her knees and pulled her fur collar close around her neck. She reached into her robes and pulled out a large flagon of mead, which she passed around the circle. Although her rich cloak attracted a few stares, the people moved back to allow her a place within the group.
“Thank you, kind lady,” a man in tattered robes said.
Selene nodded her head. “Of course,” she said. “If you are still here tomorrow, I will bring you some food from the kitchens.”
Just as the man was about to reply, a bard stepped into the circle, illuminated by the light of the fire. He held a lute in his hands and the sight of the instrument was enough to silence the crowd.
The bard began to play. He closed his eyes and strummed the strings, parting his lips. When he began to sing, Selene closed her eyes and rocked her body to the rhythm of the music. She didn’t understand the words – the song was in another tongue, an ancient language – but by the tone of the bard’s voice, Selene could tell the song was a very sad one. When she opened her eyes, she saw that many of the men and women gathered around the fire were sobbing.
A strange sadness took hold of Selene and she sniffled as tears came to her own eyes. Suddenly, she wished more than anything else in the world that she could simply leave with the travelers. A life of poverty and hardship didn’t sound so unappealing to Selene…at least that way, she could make her own choices and live her life the way she wanted.
“That was magical,” Selene said softly when the bard had finished. She pulled the flagon of mead from her cloak and passed it to him.
The bard nodded. Despite his gaunt face and greasy brown beard, he was handsome.
“Thank you, lady,” he said in a deep voice. “Are you native?”
Selene nodded. She heaved a huge sigh. “I wish I could come with you all,” she said. “Your lives are so much more exciting.”
The bard laughed harshly. “Lady, you know nothing,” he said. When he saw Selene’s expression, his smile faded. “I do not mean to offend, lady,” he added. “But surely, you are used to a life of luxury.”
Selene frowned. “So? What if I am,” she asked, narrowing her blue eyes at the bard. “You don’t know anything about me or my life.”
The bard threw his head back and laughed again, although this time it was kinder. “Lady, I know enough about you to tell you that you’d never be happy in this life. For one thing, you could never speak to a stranger the way you’re speaking to me now unless you wish to end up dead.”
Selene bit her lip. “Oh,” was all she could say.
“Lady, I urge you – find happiness here, in this prosperous, rich land,” the bard continued. “You are wealthy, are you not? Noble, even?”
“It is not any of your business,” Selene said in a haughty voice. “You should not comment on my life!” She stood and glared at the bard, eyes blazing with anger.
“Selene?”
Selene jumped at the sound of her name. Still shaking with anger, she whirled around and groaned.
“What?” Selene asked dully. “What do you want, Junius?”
“What in the name of the gods’ are you doing here?” Junius asked. He was a thickly-built man in his late twenties, with a mop of blonde curly hair and green eyes. Despite his angelic good looks, his pink lips were usually twisted in a scowl.
“I have a right to be here,” Selene said haughtily. “What, did you follow me?”
Junius rolled his eyes. He stepped forward and wrapped his meaty fingers around Selene’s delicate wrist, pulling her close.
“You ought to be taken back to the compound and spanked,” Junius hissed.
Selene yanked her arm free, rubbing her bruised wrist with her fingers. “How dare you say that to me,” she said angrily. “And how dare you put a hand on me like that!”
The group of travelers was silent. Selene felt her cheeks redden with humiliation as Junius leaned in close and glared at her.
“If I were you, I’d watch your tongue,” Junius hissed. “You don’t want your mother finding out about this, do you?”
Selene glared in exasperation. “I don’t care,” she said, tossing her head defiantly.
Junius reached for Selene again, grabbing her before she could escape.
“Sir, the lady has spoken against you,” the bard said loudly. “Let her go.”
Junius sneered at the bard. “You have no authority over me,” he said proudly. “Selene, come.”
Selene kicked and twisted in protest, but her sinewy lean strength was no match for Junius’s massive power. She felt helpless as he dragged her away from the warm glow of the campfire.
“What do you think you’re doing,” Selene grunted, desperately trying to pull her arm free. “You’re acting like a real cad!”
Junius tightened his grip on Selene’s arm and pulled her close. Selene winced as pain shot through her body. Junius pressed his forehead against Selene’s and twisted his lips in a cruel smirk.
“You little wench,” Junius growled. “Just because you rejected me once doesn’t mean you can keep me away forever.”
“Let me go!” Selene shrieked. “I’ll kill you!”
Junius laughed harshly. “You wouldn’t dare,” he said, shaking his head. “You can’t do anything to me, Selene,” he added, puffing out his chest in pride. “I am a warrior. And you? You’re a weak little girl, too stupid to know what’s good for her.”
Anger and desperation welled inside of Selene and she shrieked again, flailing and kicking. But she knew it was futile. With every thrust and punch she threw, Junius only tightened his grip. As he dragged her back towards the royal compound, she began to scream.
“Help me!” Selene screamed until her throat felt raw and red. “Rape! Someone, help me!”
“Shut up,” Junius growled. “I’m going to give you a thrashing you won’t ever forget!”
Selene narrowed her icy blue eyes and stared at Junius. Hate radiated from her gaze and she bared her teeth before spitting in Junius’s face.
“You bitch!” Junius howled. “You’re going to regret that!”
“Help me!” Selene shrieked. “Someone, help! This man is attacking me!”
“Cry all you want, but no one is going to save you,” Junius said smugly. “No one would dare lay a hand on me!”
Selene whimpered in pain and frustration as Junius pushed her down on the grass and began tearing at her cloak. She howled in pain as Junius slapped her across the face, his calloused palm scratching the soft skin of her cheek.
“Shut up,” Junius repeated. His dark eyes blazed with angry fire. “In the name of the gods, Selene, shut up!”
“Rape!” Selene shrieked. “Someone, help me!”
Just as Junius was fumbling with the leather thongs at his waist, a large figure came barreling out of the darkness. Junius barely had time to yelp in surprise before the figure threw itself on top of him, grunting and growling and groaning under his breath.
“You do not touch her,” the strange man growled. Selene watched in horror and anticipation as the stranger balled his right hand into a fist and punched Junius square in the jaw, again and again, until blood was spraying through the air.
Junius’s eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the damp grass, limp and bleeding. Selene could only lie there and watch as her attacker was transformed into a bleeding little boy, someone no more dangerous than an elderly woman.
“Lady, are you hurt?”
Selene shook her head and swallowed quickly. Her heart was still thumping as she sat up and arranged her cloak, pushing the fur-lined hood off her head.
“I could have done that myself, you know,” Selene said arrogantly. She got to her feet and wiped her palms on her cloak, still shaking in panic. “You didn’t have to intervene.”
The clouds in the sky shifted and the moon appeared, bright as a beacon in the sky. Selene studied the man carefully – she was sure she had seen him somewhere before. He was tall and muscular, easily the largest man Selene had ever seen in her life. His dark eyes looked almost black in the night air and his hair was cropped so close to his head that he was practically bald.
“With all due respect, lady,” the man said, bowing low. “I doubt that.”
Selene glared. She had the oddest feeling that the man was making fun of her, despite the sincerity in his voice.
“Junius is a pig, he would not have actually hurt me,” Selene said arrogantly. She pulled her cloak close around her thin shoulders and stood up straight. Even with her best posture, she barely came up to the man’s chin. Stepping closer, she saw that he was covered with tattoos and scars, with a large stud in one ear.
“You’re a warrior,” Selene said. She swallowed hard. “I’ve seen you before, fighting in the arena.”
The man nodded. “I am Phaelenx,” he replied. “Phaelenx Cobbler.”
Selene was suddenly tempted to ask Phaelenx what he had been doing awake, at this hour. But when she saw the disdainful way he was looking at her, she narrowed her eyes and reached into her cloak.
“Here,” Selene said, passing Phaelenx a handful of gold coins. “For your services.”
Phaelenx threw his head back and laughed. “Lady, I don’t need your money.”
“Take it,” Selene growled. “And speak of this to no one.”
Phaelenx shook his head, still chuckling. “You royals,” he said disdainfully. “Always want someone else doing your dirty work, don’t you?”
“You shut your mouth,” Selene growled. “I must be going.”
And with a mad twirl into the air, she was gone.