The Mark of the Devil
The faint scent of lavender and rosewater filled the lavish bathing chambers as Princess Selene lounged in her marble tub, her elegant frame partially submerged in the warm, scented water. Steam curled softly around her, clinging to the silk curtains that framed the room. Two maids worked dutifully—Jeria, the head maid, methodically scrubbing Selene's arms, and Sadie, the younger of the two, pouring warmed water over her golden locks.
Selene's eyes were sharp, watching her reflection in the silver mirror propped against the wall. Her regal features—high cheekbones, full lips, and piercing blue eyes—gave her the air of a woman destined to wear a crown. Yet today, a frown marred her otherwise perfect face.
"Where is Elowen?" she asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the gentle splashes of water.
Jeria hesitated, her hands stilling as she reached for a towel. The elder maid knew better than to lie to the princess. "I saw her last night, my lady," Jeria said carefully. "She was drifting about, near the gardens. I haven't seen her since."
Selene's hand clenched the edge of the tub. "You mean to tell me she left the palace?"
"I…I believe so," Jeria stammered, her voice trembling under Selene's gaze.
Selene sat upright, water cascading from her shoulders. "The palace gates were locked at sundown. If she tries to return now, the guards will see her as a trespasser. They'll question her presence, and if anyone finds out she's connected to me…"
Her words trailed off, but her tone carried the weight of her anger and fear.
"What shall we do, my lady?" Sadie asked, her wide eyes betraying her nervousness.
Selene's lips thinned into a line as she sank back into the water. "Bathe me and dress me. If Elowen returns, she'll face punishment for her carelessness. If she causes trouble for me, I will banish her from my protection entirely. Let her see how kind the world is without me."
Sadie and Jeria exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing. They both knew the princess's wrath could be as sharp as her beauty.
Meanwhile, in a world far removed from the palace's luxury, Elowen stood frozen in place, her back pressed against the smooth obsidian wall of Morris's chamber. She tried to still the trembling of her hands as Morris loomed before her, his golden eyes fixed on her neck.
Her fingers instinctively brushed the spot he was staring at, and she flinched as her fingertips grazed the mark. It was faintly warm to the touch, an unnatural heat that seemed to pulse beneath her skin.
"What…what did you do to me?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Morris's gaze darkened, though his expression remained unreadable. He took a slow step closer, his boots clicking softly against the floor. "Do you truly not know?" he asked, his tone a mix of amusement and something far more dangerous.
She shook her head, her wide green eyes glistening with tears. "I—I don't understand."
His lips curled into a smirk, though his golden eyes flickered with something almost uncertain. "The mark on your neck, little lamb, is no ordinary mark. It is a binding. A mark of…marriage, you could say."
Elowen gasped, her knees nearly giving out beneath her. "Marriage?" she repeated, horrified. "No. That's not possible."
"Oh, but it is." Morris leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, velvety whisper. "You see, when I marked you last night, I did more than claim you as mine. I tied your soul to mine. Without your consent, you've already become my wife."
Elowen stumbled back, pressing herself harder against the wall. "Why?" she cried. "Why would you do this?"
Morris tilted his head slightly, as if the question puzzled him. "It was not entirely intentional," he admitted, his tone calm, almost detached. "But when I marked you, something ancient stirred—a connection I haven't felt in centuries." His golden eyes narrowed slightly. "Perhaps it's fate. Or perhaps it's simply my curse" he said to himself quietly
Tears spilled down Elowen's cheeks, her breaths coming in shallow gasps. "I don't want this," she said, her voice trembling. "Please, just let me go."
Morris smiled again, this time more devilish than amused. "Ah, but it's too late for that. However…" He stepped back slightly, giving her a moment to breathe. "I am not without mercy. The rites have not been completed. If you truly wish to break this bond, there is one way."
Elowen's heart leapt with a fragile hope. "What is it?"
"You must complete the marriage rites," he said, his tone deceptively gentle. "And then reject me, openly and fully. Only then will I release you."
Her throat tightened. She didn't trust him, but she had no other choice. "Fine," she whispered.
Morris gestured toward a small pedestal in the center of the room, where a goblet of crimson liquid shimmered faintly in the dim light. "Drink," he commanded, his voice soft yet firm.
Elowen hesitated, but under his watchful gaze, she approached the goblet. The liquid inside seemed to pulse, almost alive. She lifted it to her lips, the metallic scent of it making her stomach churn. With a deep breath, she drank.
The moment the liquid touched her tongue, a searing heat spread through her veins. She gasped, dropping the goblet, and fell to her knees. Morris stepped closer, watching her with a mix of amusement and curiosity.
"Good," he murmured. "Now, speak the binding words."
Elowen looked up at him, her tears glistening in the dim light. "I…I don't know them."
Morris knelt before her, his golden eyes locking onto hers. "Then repeat after me."
He spoke the ancient words, his voice low and melodic, and Elowen, trembling, echoed him. As she finished the final phrase, a faint glow enveloped her, and the mark on her neck pulsed once more.
Morris rose to his full height, his smirk returning. "It is done."
Elowen collapsed to the floor, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.
Without another word, Morris reached down, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. His touch was firm, his hold unyielding, yet she felt no warmth from him, only a strange, otherworldly energy that seemed to hum beneath his skin.
"Morris," she whispered, her voice weak. "Please…"
"Rest now, little lamb," he said, his tone softer than before. "I'll return you to your palace. For now."
Before she could protest, the world around her shifted, and in an instant, they were standing in the shadowed gardens behind the palace's training grounds.
"I'll see you again," Morris said, his golden eyes glinting in the moonlight.
"No," Elowen whispered. "Don't. Don't ever come back."
Morris chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "We'll see." And with that, he disappeared into the night, leaving her trembling and alone.
Elowen staggered through the gardens, her heart racing as she tried to find her way back to her chambers. But as she neared the training grounds, she froze.
A tall figure stood there, his back to her. He was practicing with a bow, his movements smooth and precise. His golden hair glinted in the moonlight, tied back neatly, and his form was strong, broad-shouldered yet lithe. He loosed an arrow, and it struck the target with deadly precision.
Elowen tried to step back, but the movement caught his attention. The man turned, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers.
"Who are you?" Prince Derek demanded, his voice sharp but curious as he took a step toward her.
Elowen's breath hitched, her knees weak under his princely gaze. She didn't know what to say, and the words caught in her throat.
Derek's eyes narrowed slightly, suspicion flickering across his face as he said, "You're not supposed to be here, are you?"