The King's Cursed Bride

A Liar

Author's Note: Chapter 100! Yay!!! Thank you guys for dedicating so much of your time to reading this story. <3

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She mustn't cry.

Akar's leering face loomed above her, twisting in satisfaction as a hot burst of pain sliced through her core. Carissa clenched her jaw to prevent her lips from trembling and fastened her gaze on the ceiling. It was so beautiful.

Another burst of pain had her clenching the blankets beneath her, her grip so tight her knuckles ached.

The stars. She should count the stars. Her father would sit outside with her on crisp fall days, and they'd count stars until she fell asleep.

Some were clustered in the corner. One, two, three, four, five.

Agony ripped through her, and she forced her breathing to steady.

Some slunk across the side. Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven—

"Carissa!" The fingers digging into her shoulders gripped tighter, bruises staining her skin like ink. She'd bear marks of this encounter for her entire life. Anger stirred inside her at the thought, pouring heat into her veins. The fiery sensation turned her resignation to ash.

She summoned the last of her strength and reached out to claw his face, hoping to rake his eyes out.

A strong hand latched onto her wrist, and she screamed in frustration. At least the pain had stopped—even though it'd only be for a moment.

"Carissa."

She gathered her legs beneath her, intending to kick him where it'd hurt most.

"Carissa, cease." The hands left her shoulders to cup her face—the tenderness of his touch giving her pause. "It's me. Elon."

Elon. She gritted her teeth and slowed her breathing. She must've had a nightmare, a nightmare that had taken her back to— Phantom sensations crawled over her skin, and images blinded her vision.

Before she could push Elon off, he rolled off of her. She shoved herself out of bed, her legs tangling in the sheets. Her stomach coiled in her chest, its weight like a rock crushing her abdomen.

Elon's footsteps padded around her. Something clinked in front of her. She reached her, and her hand followed its broad curves. A bowl. He'd brought her a—

Bile seared her throat and surged past her lips. She planted her hands on either side of the bowl. Even when there was nothing left to vomit, her stomach continued to heave.

And then she realized why. Hands were touching her—one rubbing her back, another holding her hair away from her face. She swatted them away, not having any breath left with which to explain to Elon. Finally, panic loosed its grip on her body.

Carissa spat out the last of the vomit and breathed. She was here, in the palace, not in Iver. The relief was so intense she felt dizzy.

"Carissa?"

And she was with Elon, not Akar. Despite their argument earlier, she was still grateful he'd rescued her from that situation. If not for Elon, she would have been tormented for hours more. If not for Elon, she would have rotted and died in that jailhouse. If not for Elon, she never would have gone to Zonah.

Her thoughts stuttered to a halt.

She had run to Zonah to escape Elon. And Elon had known exactly what she'd do. He could have come to her personally before and shown her how kind he was. Instead he'd let her run to her own destruction.