Broken and Beautiful

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Author's Note: Some things are more beautiful for having been broken.


And this chapter is dedicated to one of my other wonderful readers: victoria353! She's also been with me before I started KCB, and she's even checked on me a few times if I've been late with an update, since you guys know how consistent I am. She just wanted to make sure something tragic hadn't impeded the update 😉

***

Without waiting for a reply, Elon stepped forward, and the group of men surged backwards. "Where is she?" He scanned the crowd again—almost frantically.

Carissa swallowed past her tight throat. Was he looking... for her? She was the only other nightwoman. Her body quivered with each beat of her heart. Did he know who she was, outside of a nightwoman? She attempted to clear her throat, so she could call to him, but a solid wall of pain slammed into her. She was practically mute.

One of the men stepped forward. "What would you be willing to give for this nightwoman?"

If her breath didn't singe her throat, Carissa would have gasped at his audacity.

The King's unwavering gaze settled on the man. "Anything."

The man rubbed his grimy hands together.

"Though I'd be wary of naming a price, were I you." His hand curled around the pommel of his sword. "I'm not unwilling to fight my way to her, if need be."

The knights rustled outside the cell, their armor clanking as they shifted to grab their swords, but the King stilled them with a raised palm.

The man swallowed audibly and shook his head. "No need for that, no need for that. We're about done with her, so none of us would protest if you took what's left."

Shame washed over her and seeped into the pores of her skin. The King was able to take her without a fight only because no one else wanted her. Why would he want her? She didn't even deserve his gaze to alight on her—much less to marry him.

"She's right here. Your highness."

The men around her shifted away, clearing a path from her to the King. Her gaze was too heavy to lift as she suddenly became aware of how he must see her. Her hair dangling in oily strands around her pale countenance. The hollows digging into her cheeks. Her tear tracks slicing through the blood and snot and grunge soiling her face. The shredded dress dangling from her body, displaying bruised expanses of skin.

His polished boots drew closer. Even in the jailhouse, they shone so flawlessly she could see her own reflection. She lowered her gaze to the stone in front of her, unable to bear her own disgust at the sight.

He stopped in front of her. She curled her dirt-tipped fingernails into her palm, resisting the urge to reach out and brush his boots to ensure he was a solid being rather than a phantom. But if she did, she'd ruin his boots, and they were probably worth more than she was.

To her surprise, he knelt by her, the grime-coated floor smearing his pants.

This gave her enough courage to lift her gaze to his chest. "Your majesty."

"Carissa."

Her breath caught, and her courage lost, her gaze dipped to the floor. He knew who she was. And he knew what she'd done—that she was as damaged and dirty within as she was without. Her breaths were coming so fast and hard that the pain slammed into her with the constancy of waves.

"I'm so s–sorry."

Her voice broke, and agony clamped her chest. Whether it was because of her injuries or the maelstrom ravaging her heart, she was unsure. The two different pains were practically indistinguishable.

His fingers grazed her cheeks before tucking a greasy lock of hair behind her ear. "It's alright."

"No." She wiped at her wet cheeks, felt the grit smear beneath her palm. "No, it's not. I've betrayed you over and over again without even giving you a chance. I was so arrogant that I thought I'd been the one wronged." She forced her gaze to his. "While you were loving me and waiting for me, I gave away my life, my body, my heart."

She glanced down at her damaged, half-naked body and once more felt shame curl through her. "And I have nothing left." It felt like her ribs had a vice-like grip on her heart, and she massaged her chest with the heel of her palm. "You deserve so much more than I am and so much better than I have." She hung her head and surrendered to the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Carissa."

Coming from his mouth, her name sounded like a caress. Coaxed by his gentle tone, she glanced up.

He curved one arm around her shoulders and pressed his other hand against her chest, right above her heart, and the tips of his fingers curled over her jutting collarbone. "I only want and need you," he bent close, his breath dusting her face, "my broken, beautiful bride."

She placed her hand over his, desperately wanting to cling to his strength and warmth. "But I'm not enough." There was barely anything left of what she used to be—her body was bruised, her heart broken, and even part of her soul was missing.

"Then I will make you enough." His thumb glided over her skin. "I'll mend what was broken and fill what is missing... if you'll have me."

If you'll have me. The words hit her heart with the force of a hammer on a gong, its resonant vibrations shaking her to the core, and she completely forgot what else she'd wanted to say. He still wanted her.

She should have replied eloquently, in a fashion suitable for replying to a proposal from the King, but instead she could only utter three words, words she would have been loathe to speak years ago, words she'd been dying to speak hours ago, words that now roared so fiercely she could scarcely think of anything else.

"I love you."

He released a breath, and all of him softened: the tension slipped from his broad shoulders, his expression gentled, and tenderness misted his eyes. "And I love you, Carissa." He nudged her forehead with his. "More than you could possibly imagine."

He shifted his head, angling his mouth near hers, and the beat of her heart trilled against her ribcage. His lips swept over hers, and warmth cascaded down her skin. She stilled in his arms as he continued to brush her with soft kisses.

She scarcely remembered how to breathe, much less how to kiss back. How was this moment even possible? How could the King find her so desirable when even the derelicts in the prison wouldn't deign to touch her? His love for her was so completely beyond her comprehension.

He drew back, his gaze startling in its intensity, his chest swelling with each ragged breath. His face was streaked in brown, and his clothes dirtied from brushing against her. She blinked in surprise. She'd almost expected him to draw away as crisply clean as he'd come.

She brushed her fingers across his begrimed cheek, but instead of cleaning him, her hand left another smear. Embarrassment singed her face, and she began to withdraw her hand. "I–I'm sorry."

He caught her fingers and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. Even in the jailhouse, his dark eyes glittered. "I forgive you." He released her hand before removing the cloak from his shoulders. He wrapped her in it, tucking it underneath her body and draping it over.

Then he cradled her in his arms and stood. Every movement and touch was gentle, as if he were more intimately familiar with her own injuries than she was. He strode out of the cell, and the men parted for them. She caught a few of their expressions—intrigued, disappointed, smug. Her attention snagged on the last. Akar. No doubt he was pleased he'd had his fill of the king's future bride and delighted himself in her torment.

She nuzzled her face into Elon's chest. "I'm yours." Though it was directed at him, it was more said for her sake. She belonged to Elon now, and she'd never allow another man to touch her.


He left the prison cell behind them, and he glanced down at her. "Yes, Carissa." The words rumbled in his chest, vibrating against her ear. "My bride."

She closed her eyes, a strangely pleasant ache traversing through her body at his words.

She was broken yet beautiful. But most importantly, she was his.

***

Author's Note: (8/9/18) Exciting news! TKCB is a finalist for The Fiction Awards. Thank you to everyone who has voted I couldn't have done it without you.

Now, I'd like to ask you to vote again before September 3rd--this time to win the Best Fantasy Story. It says voting is unlimited,means you can vote as many times as you want to per book. If you want to vote on my story, you can find the link on my profile (Best Fantasy is right under Chicklit and Fanfiction). A huge thanks to those who have voted for TKCB for Best Fantasy Story!

ONE MORE THING

Whoever votes the most for TKCB (aside from AKA my crazy-determined little sister who has disqualified her self) will get either their name inserted somewhere in upcoming chapters. Or you can ask for some other little Easter egg.

I'm handing out awards for whoever votes the most on a weekly basis, overall, and if I can get 10,000 votes before Monday, I'll post an extra chapter on Monday.

Good luck ;) 

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