Amory stared into her eyes that were only inches from his, still concealed by the veil. He thought back to when he'd used compulsion on her, her neck had been so inviting, her blood rushing just beneath the skin. But he-he just hadn't been able to do it. He cursed himself for it because it only increased his hunger knowing she was so easy to take.
But he was sick and tired of her disrespectfulness. If she did use his title it was in a mocking tone. And he was trying to help her with the injury he accidentally inflicted. And yet she fought him.
She still hadn't apologized or spoken. Her one eye that wasn't swollen was still wide with fear and she still held her breath.
He narrowed his eyes. It was as if she didn't fear him, or know of his strength. He would just have to show her.
Amory grabbed her hands and pinned them in one hand to the back of the carriage. He could hear her heart rate increasing from fear. He grabbed the delicately crafted veil and tore it from her head along with the tiara.
He tossed it to the other side of the carriage and turned back, hiding how pleased he was that she now knew to fear him.
He released his grip on her wrists and she slowly moved them down to rest on her lap.
She was pretty, but looked nothing like Mirella. Their brown hair colour was the same which made him assume they were related. The shape of their nose and chin was also the same. But their eyes and lips and skin tones varied dramatically.
Mirella had dark, mischievous brown eyes, and his wife had warm honey coloured ones. Mirella had naturally red lips and his wife's bore a pale pink shade. Mirella had a light olive complexion, and his wife had a pale, near sickly, one.
Her hair had poofed when he'd removed the veil and was in a frizzy mess surrounding her head.
He tucked it back and began dabbing it with the ointments he'd prepared.
She stiffened with each touch of the bandage to the thin tissue around her reddening eye.
'Good.' He thought. He wanted her to fear him. He didn't enjoy how casual she was around him. No woman could be so casual around him except Mirella. He began glaring without knowing it. Why had he been so cheated?
He began to think of how he would fix this. He'd have to find Mirella, wherever she was, and marry her, and if he couldn't do that then he'd have her as his concubine. It was not ideal, but at least they'd be together. And his current wife would live in the harem, or in a palace out in the country.
Once he was finished with the task he sat back in his seat and put the medicinal supplies away. He watched in the corner of his eye as she hesitantly reached to get her veil and tiara that was on his bench.
Her thin fingers eventually grasped them and, after smoothing out her hair moderately, she fixed the accessory back on.
The sun soon set and her book remained on the floor. He did feel a sliver of regret for throwing it at her; he'd honestly thought her reflexes would be better.
He closed his eyes and listened as she fought slumber. Every few seconds he would hear as her heart slowed and a sharp intake of breath would follow as she tried to rouse herself.
After midnight he reached across and grabbed her shoulders. He held her terrified eyes and whispered, "Sleep."
Her eyelids immediately fell over her eyes and she entered a deep sleep.
He sighed as he rested his head back and watched the trees outside. By morning they will have reached the outskirts of Harkburg.
His eyes wandered over to the sleeping woman and he stared at her neck. So open and practically begging for him to taste her.
He looked away and debated with himself. There was no harm really, he was sure he'd feed from her at one time or another in the future.
He moved over and sat next to her sleeping form. He took her in his arms; she was as limp as a rag doll.
Tucking away her hair and veil he lowered his lips to her skin and prepared to feed from her. He could smell the blood coursing hotly just beneath the skin. His thirst increased almost painfully. He grazed the skin with his fangs and was about to sink into her when the carriage stopped.
He groaned and looked to the door where someone was standing.
"What?" He asked aggravatedly.
"There's something you should see, your majesty."
His brows furrowed and he placed his wife back on the seat where she'd been and stepped from the carriage.
"Where is it?" He asked the guard in front of him.
The man pointed down the road and Amory squinted his eyes. He could only make out his captain standing at the crest of a hill.
He glanced at the jumpy guard and approached his captain.
"Roger? What's…?" He stilled as he came within ten feet. His captain wasn't standing. He was hanging. He sniffed the air and his expression darkened at what he found.
"Ready your swords. The-"
In the next instant the woods erupted with armed men. Five of them tackled him. He grabbed the head of two and smashed them together. Grabbing a third off his back he tossed him to the ground.
He reached for his sword to face the two other men.
"What's the matter? Lost your sword, your majesty?"
He narrowed his eyes when he remembered that a sword was not worn in the traditional wedding garb.
The man on his left attacked first and he grabbed his wrist and broke it. The man shouted in pain and dropped his sword. Amory broke his knee and elbowed his head.
He hissed upon feeling a blade cut his arm. He grabbed the sword and kneed the wielder in the stomach before snapping his neck.
He glanced over to the carriage and saw that his guards had finished off the remaining assassins. He stalked over to where Lee, his second in command, was standing. He now inherited the role of captain.
"This is Velio's work." He grumbled and Lee nodded.
"They took the princess." He said casually, staring out at the foggy woods.
"They-" He sighed and shook his head. "Which direction?"
Lee pointed ahead of them, "They went straight but most likely turned."
Amory nodded and wandered into the trees, fog soon washing over him and concealing him.