A Castle of Sand(81)

I could still feel the stabbing ache of the bite marks on my neck. My lips felt swollen from the cuts caused by Borys’ sickening kisses. The heaviness in my chest made it difficult to breathe.
I’d never felt more helpless and distraught than I did at that moment. I lay there for hours, sleep eluding me. My stomach was already grumbling. No one had bothered to bring me food since Ingrid had left. I wondered if it was some sort of punishment.
When my eyelids began to get heavy and sleepiness began to overtake me, I gladly gave in, hoping that when I woke up, I would find that The Oasis was my nightmare and The Shade was my reality. The Shade had its own horrors, but though firelight flooded the tombs of The Oasis, to me, it would always be darker than the island Derek spent a hundred years establishing and fighting for.
I had no clue how long I’d been asleep, but disappointment washed over me when I woke up to find that The Oasis was still the reality I was being forced to inhabit. I couldn’t help but sob when I realized that maids were milling around my chamber. A dress that was far too revealing for my taste was laid out on the bed beside me.
“You’re awake!” an elderly woman exclaimed. “The wedding is in a few hours.”
The mention of the wedding once again turned on the waterworks. “Please…help me out of here…”
She sighed and smiled. “There’s no way out of here, beautiful.” She paused as if to give me time to let the words sink in before clapping her hands together. “Now, get up and let’s take you to the shower. You look awful and we can’t have that, because the king wants his bride to be stunning. Right now, you’re an absolute mess. Did you not get any sleep at all?”
I ignored her question. “What’s in level seven?”
She gave me a sorry look. “Darkness…things a bride shouldn’t be thinking of on her wedding day.”
“The man I love, the man I want to marry…he’s in level seven.”
“Then you best forget him and love the king instead.” She heaved another sigh—now more exasperating and impatient than kind. “Come, come…hurry.”
I was pulled out of the bed and from that point on it felt like my body wasn’t my own. I went where they led me, did what they told me to do. I sat when they told me to sit and stood when I was instructed to stand. They stripped my clothes off and dressed me. They adorned my hair with pearls. They dabbed makeup on my face. They tried to chat with me and lighten my mood as they went about the process, but they knew that I was an unwilling bride and sometimes, I would catch them giving me sorry looks. They knew that my plight was not one any woman would envy.
The whole time, it felt like everything was happening to someone else. By the time they were done, the elderly maid pushed me in front of a full-length mirror.
“I would’ve chosen another dress, but the king picked this himself,” she explained apologetically.
When I saw my appearance in the mirror, I fought back tears. Derek would’ve been horrified. The neckline was too low, stooping down almost to my navel. The back of the dress also showed a lot of skin. The dress clung to my curves like a glove. I wondered what the dress was intended for—whether it was meant to reveal or conceal. I clenched my fists. I knew the maids had done their best to make me look as decent as possible. They chose to keep my hair down instead of pull it up in order to have my long locks cover at least some skin. Still, I thought I looked more like a whore than a bride. The heart-shaped ruby red necklace adorning my neck only added insult to injury.
I was about to break down into tears when the door creaked open and Borys stepped in. I didn’t even dare look at him. I didn’t want to see the grin on his face.
I asked him the one question on my mind. “Where’s Derek? I want to see him.”
The atmosphere immediately tensed. The maids began to exchange nervous whispers as Borys slowly approached me. My entire body tensed when he stood right beside me. He didn’t seem to mind how rigid I was against his touch, because he took all the liberties he had as both his hands and eyes roamed my anxious form.
“You still dare mention him to me?” he said in a low voice, his breath cold against my ear, his lips so close they were almost touching me.
“Where is he? What have you done to him?”
I could feel his anger. He didn’t like my defiance. He didn’t like that I was holding my head up. He wanted me to whimper and beg. He wanted me to cry. I’d already done that and I was determined to no longer give him this satisfaction.
“Do you still love Derek Novak, Sofia?”