Bride of the Sea (The Prophecy of Sisters #2) - Hayley Faiman Page 0,38

cannot see the village behind us any longer.

“We are here to sacrifice to the gods, to give our thanks,” I murmur.

She doesn’t respond right away, but her eyes widen. I watch as she shakes her head a couple of times. Then, she makes an audible gulp before spinning around from me. I don’t reach for her, her reaction is puzzling.

“Let me guess?” I ask. “Your people don’t make sacrifices to your gods, either?”

Slowly, Liv turns back around to face me. “No, Aaric, we don’t,” she whispers. “I couldn’t.”

Snorting, my eyes search hers. She looks just as terrified as she did the day that I found her in her strange garments. Except, she doesn’t just look terrified, she also looks resigned.

Maybe I’ve been too harsh since finding out her age? Maybe I’ve been too selfish, but it is a serious matter, I am not a commoner, I am a king and I need heirs. I just cannot believe that this is how the gods and goddesses would align my fate, how they would want my legacy.

“You will,” I grind out. “My people expect it and you will not embarrass me and disrespect me in front of my people.”

Chapter Thirteen

LIV

The wedding feast is in full swing. The table in front of us has meats, fruits, vegetables, and other strange items on display, it’s like a charcuterie board on steroids. Then there’s the liquor. I’ve had enough now that I can’t feel my own tongue.

Aaric is completely ignoring me, and I’m fine with that. I just keep replaying what he made me do to that poor pig. It was the things that nightmares are made of. I’m sure some cultures still do sacrifices, but I’ve never witnessed anything like it before and I never want to again.

I continue to drink, Aaric continues to ignore me. I wonder if this is the tone for our marriage? Now that he thinks I’m just some dried up old hag, he isn’t going to even acknowledge my existence.

Wonderful.

Then, there’s also the other fact that I can’t understand anything that anyone is saying. Only the seeress and Runa can understand me. They have their own duties to attend to. This is going to be a lonely life.

Honestly, I would rather be single and alone in the city than married and alone here. This is a totally different kind of alone than I’ve ever felt before.

Alienated. That’s what I’m feeling in this moment. Right now, the only reason I’m willing to not try and figure out a way home is because Sybilla could be somewhere around here.

I need my sister. When I get her back, then we’re going to blow this fucking place. I’m going home and even if I have to find some witchy woman to keep me there with a spell, I’m never leaving again, not ever. And I’ll never complain about my life there, not ever. I’ll die happily a lonely cat lady.

I try not to pay attention to the stares of the people around us. There is a revolving door of people that make their way up to the table. None of course, talk to me. They are, however, excited to speak to my husband.

I try not to notice the women that appear, the way their dresses dip low in the front and they lean over unnecessarily to show him their goods. He looks, naturally, because they’re all at least ten years younger than me and perfectly perky. Hell, even I look.

All I want to do is stand up, walk away, and go to bed. I want to hide away. I’m embarrassed to be sitting here. He’s treating me like nothing, in front of all of his people. I haven’t missed the looks of pity by some of the women who are sitting and enjoying the party with their families, either.

Trying with all that I have to keep my head held high, as the night goes on, it becomes harder and harder as the hours pass. The crowd becoming drunker and it shifts from families celebrating to men and women, only.

I watch as the dancing becomes a little more lewd, the groping and touching, the kissing brazen and wild. As soon as I see bared skin make an appearance, I decide that it is time for me to go. I have a headache, I’m drunk, emotionally drained, and frankly over it all.

Reaching for my husband, I touch his arm for the first time this entire evening. He lifts his hand, shaking my touch away. Pain