Author's Note: So yesterday, I started a new thing on Instagram. Every week, before the Wednesday update, I'll showcase one comment--or a set of comments--on Instagram! This week's comment award goes to WHATTHEHELLISWRONG, ForevermoreLast, and action_syfy for having the longest comment thread on the story (17 total). Hope you guys feel accomplished 😉

AND I passed 700 followers this week 🎉🎉🎉 Whoop, whoop!

And this week's chapter goes to the fabulous ArielMasters. She's been so immensely supportive and involved on my other platforms, aside from Wattpad. She also did a big shoutout for me a while ago, recommending her followers check out my book, which led the the amazing mariaola2000 coming over here to read it. Though Ariel is one of the newer fans of this book, she's easily one of the most encouraging and dedicated 💖

***

She stumbled back against, calves banging against the chair, her breath thick in her throat. "You're in the jailhouse; you can't touch me."

"Wrong—on both accounts. After you left with the princeling, I realized that if you could barter your way out, so could I. But while you used your body to gain such favor—"

Heat roared to her cheeks. "I did no such thing! I agreed to marry him."

Akar snorted. "Precisely my point. As I was saying, I was clever enough to take advantage of a few favors owed to me."

Her stomach twirled itself into knots. Perhaps if she could distract him for long enough, Elon would return. "How?"

"I threatened to reveal a Councilman's liaison with another Councilman's daughter. And, of course, the Councilman was quite cooperative when it came to allowing me access to the embassy, so long as I didn't implicate him, of course. We all have secrets. Most people hide them. I take advantage of them."

Carissa edged around the chair, so its back separated her and Akar. "You don't have secrets of your own?"

He stalked closer towards her, and goose bumps danced across her skin. "I don't believe it's fitting for something owned to demand questions of its owner. Have you forgotten your place so soon?"

"Stop. You can't and won't touch me; I'm the King's." She clenched the chair's back so tightly she was surprised the wood didn't creak beneath the pressure.

That same ugly smile curled his lips. "You said I was in the jailhouse, and I've proven you wrong." His hand shot out, covering hers and pinning it to the top of the chair. "You also said I couldn't touch you." His fingers tightened over hers, his nails digging into her skin. "And once more, I'll prove you wrong."

Carissa straightened. Elon said she was a queen, a warrior, and this man would not cow her. "I'm Elon's, and he won't let you."

The grin spread over his face like fire. The sight of mirth on his face sent another wave of goose bumps slithering across her skin. "Why would he care, Carissa? Why would he miss you? Or care if I have another sip from a near empty goblet? There are other women in this city, Carissa, many of which are purer and prettier, regardless of how clean or healed you may be."

His gaze raked her figure, and she suppressed the urge to try and cover herself. At least she had more than a sheet wrapped around herself.

Akar dragged her towards him, sheathed his dagger, and his other hand reached for her waist.

Her fear melted beneath a hot crash of anger. She curled her hand into a fist and drove it upward. It slammed into his jaw, jerked back his head.

His grip tightened. "You little whore." He drew his hand back, and Carissa ducked her head.

"Akan."

Akar's hand loosened as he swerved around. Carissa yanked away from him and pressed herself against the wall, regretting she couldn't get farther away without going around Akar.

Her gaze darted to the doorway and landed on Elon. A ragged sigh escaped, leaving her limp with relief.

Akar's nostrils flared. "A-kar."

Elon set the tray of steaming mugs on top of the bed. "I would apologize, but I believe you're the one who's trespassed." His gaze was so cold it burned, and Carissa caught her breath. He'd been so gentle with her that it was strange to see him act otherwise. "I don't take kindly to people calling my wife names or touching her person."

A laugh rumbled in Akar's throat. "Has she not told you anything from her past? How she sold herself to me? How she allowed me to be the first man to touch her intimately? How my hands and eyes—and those of many others—had their fill of her until she had naught left to give?"

Anger rippled across Elon's expression. "What she hasn't told, I already know."

"Then you're aware she's deeply indebted to me."

"Yes. Her debts have been paid, and I believe the debt was owed to Iver, rather than you, Akar."

Akar's arms quaked with tension as he curled his hands into white-knuckled fists. "I had her first."

"But now she's mine, Akar, and you no longer have ownership of her." He frowned. "Why such anger over one woman whom you claim has no value?"

Akar yanked out his dagger. "What I know is none of your business, princeling. Allow me to take her, and I might let you live."

Laughter poured from Elon's lips, but it lacked the sincere ring and honeyed warmth she was used to. "I think not."

Akar lunged towards him, dagger glittering. Carissa half expected Elon to bolt out the door and summon the guards—until he ducked Akar's slice, swept Akar's feet our from under him, and planted a foot on his chest.

Elon leaned forward, grinding his heel into Akar. "You've been quite keen on my lovely bride since she arrived."

Akar growled and raised the dagger.

Elon clamped onto Akar's wrist and began twisting. "Because you know who she'll become."

Akar snarled and twisted beneath Elon's foot. "She won't become anyone. I'll destroy her first."

Elon twisted harder, and Akar's expression contorted in pain. "Who told you? Akasha?"

A strangled grunt escaped him.

The dagger clanked to the floor, and Elon shrugged. "No matter. Carissa will become what she chooses to become, and neither my best efforts nor yours will change that."

Carissa's breath stuttered. That's why Akar had been chasing her for so long? Because he wanted to destroy who she would become? Which begged the question: who would she become?

"Deliver a message to your Reaper mistress, and I will release you."

Release him? Splotches of color danced across her vision, and she leaned more heavily against the wall for support. Surely Elon jested.

"Continue to attempt to reclaim ownership of her, and it will be the end of you. She's mine, and you'd do well to remember."

Akar growled. "What message?"

"Her end draws near."

Akar's expression hardened with belligerence until Elon ever so gently twisted his wrist further. "I'll do it. Now, release me."

Elon shoved off of Akar, who scrambled to his feet and bolted out the door. It swung shut behind him.

Elon rushed to her side just as she sank to the floor. A deep sense of shame gnawed at her bones—shame that Akar had seen her so clothed and that Elon had witnessed his accusations, all of which were far too true.

Elon sat beside her and curled his arm around her shoulders. "All is well, Carissa."

She rested her forehead against the hollow of his neck and released a shaky sigh. She was so very thankful Elon wasn't Viltus or Akar's intrusion might have had a different outcome. Elon hadn't even batted an eye when he'd faced down Akar. He'd been so confident. In fact, he hadn't seemed surprised by Akar's appearance at all.

She whipped her head around so fast she nearly clipped his jaw. "You have Foresight; you knew Akar would come."

Elon nodded. "I did."

His cool response set her blood boiling. She launched to her feet. "But... why? Why allow him to enter this room or see me like...this?" She gestured to her lingerie. "And why allow him to escape? He didn't deserve to go free."

Elon held his chin as he regarded her. "Carissa, I can't always provide you with an answer for what happens, but trust me in that there is a purpose."

She bit back a growl and paced across the marble. "Are there any other visitors that I should know about?"

"No."

She halted in front of him. "I just don't see why you'd allow that. You told Akar you didn't like your wife being called names or touched, but you knew that would happen, yet you did nothing to prevent it. You're just as guilty of accosting me as he is."

"Akar is still responsible for his actions."

"And you're responsible for yours." She shook her head, trying to ignore the hurt creeping in. "I thought being your bride meant that you'd take care of me." Tears pricked her eyes, and she glanced away.

"Of course it does, Carissa." He rose to his feet. Though he stood less than an inch in front of her, he didn't touch her. "I was there just as you needed me, wasn't I?"

"You could have arrived earlier and never allowed it to happen in the first place. You could have posted guards outside. You could have paid the jailer to ensure Akar couldn't have finagled his way out."

"I could have, but I arrived when I did for a very specific purpose. You may think I should have come earlier, but I know the future, Carissa. My timing couldn't have been better." He wove his fingers with hers. "Trust me in this."

She sighed. "What purpose, Elon? I don't see it."

"You didn't trust me to defend you, and this was an opportunity to prove otherwise."

She slipped her hand away from his to fold her arms. It seemed rather selfish of him to allow a creepy man into their bedroom—on their wedding night—just so he could show off. "Continue."

"Akar came to destroy not who you are but who you will be. He fears your potential, as he should. If I hadn't allowed him to come here, you would have no proof beyond my own words—which you have yet to learn to trust—that you'll become what I say you will be."

"And what is that?"

"A warrior."

He ignored the skeptical raise of her eyebrows and continued, "Finally, Akar will serve a greater purpose. I released him not because he deserved it but for the sake of what is to come. All I've done today is to prepare you for the future—building your trust in me, assuring you of your destiny, and releasing Akar."

Carissa pressed her fingers to her temples. "It still doesn't make sense."

He shrugged. "You need not understand it. Only trust me."

That was harder than anticipated. Though he had Foresight and loved her, his idea of perfect timing was a bit different from hers...

"Would you like to sit?"

She sighed and nodded. Nothing like a creep barging in to kill the mood on your wedding night.

Elon guided her to a divan and arranged the pillows behind her back before bringing her a mug of steaming liquid.

She curled her hands around the warm glass. "What is it?"

"Fairywing melon cider."

She blew, and her breath rippled across the surface of the red cider. Once the water smoothed, she stared at her reflection. "Elon, will you ever let me get hurt?"

He seated himself beside her with a hefty sigh, the cushions sinking beneath his weight. "I will do what's best for you, Carissa, even should you not understand." Sadness chilled his gaze, and a shiver wreathed her skin as she realized Elon knew the future, knew how she'd be hurt, knew that she wouldn't understand.

"Even if it involves me being whipped?"

His gaze thawed as he blinked back to the present. "You speak of working at that pub, don't you? And the boy?"

She nodded. "So you knew about all of that, even when you came in and tipped me."

"I did."

"Then why did you come a day late?"

He leaned back against the divan, rested his clasped hands on his chest. "A King is never late, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he intends to."

Carissa, frustration roiling beneath her skin, launched to her feet. Only to remember she still held the fairywing melon cider. The liquid sloshed and seared her wrist. "Ah!" And then it landed on the ground, bleeding its contents onto the rug.

Elon rolled to his feet, cradled her elbow, and led her to a basin of water.

"But the–the rug."

"Is just a rug." He plunged her hand beneath the water and brushed his fingers along her skin.

The back of his hand flared an angry red, and she even saw the divots of nail marks. Then it vanished.

Elon held her hand up, his gaze roaming her flawless skin. "There." He pressed a kiss to her knuckles before scooping up a rag and leaving her side to sop up the stain on the rug.

Carissa's gaze swerved from her hand to the King, on his hands and knees doing a servant's work. Never had she more admired a man—or been more frustrated by one. If he truly loved her as he claimed, why would he ever permit her to be injured? "Why did you allow the whipping, Elon?"

Elon stopped scrubbing. "You know the boy's story?"

"Yes."

"Then you know trust doesn't come easily for him. And neither does love."

She nodded and glanced at the curtains, tempted to part them and discover if she could spot Aleck from this height. Where was he? Did he know he'd been right all along? A smile softened her lips. Most likely.

"Yet he gave you both. Without you taking on his punishment for him, that never would have happened. Yes, I had the means to prevent the whipping, but if I had done so, the boy would yet to believe he was loved."

She rubbed her forehead. "And what good did it do? When last I saw him, he claimed I loved myself more than I did him. If once he loved me, now he no longer does."

Elon returned to scouring the rub. "I wouldn't say that."

"Why not?"

"Who do you think noticed your absence and informed me?"

"He did?" Carissa covered her mouth. "He decided to notify the King himself of my disappearance?"

"Of course. You were certainly important enough to him to warrant such action."

"But you already knew what had happened to me, didn't you?"

"I did."

"Then why wait for Aleck to come?"

"For this moment. So I could prove that the boy loves you and your sacrifice for him was significant."

Carissa pressed her fingers to her temple, felt the delicate flutter of her pulse. "How do you keep track of what should happen? How do you even know what should happen? Who's to say the future you're working toward is the ideal future?"

With one last swipe of the rag, Elon rose to his feet and crossed the room to drop it into the basin. "I know what should and shouldn't happen, Carissa. This is part of my gifting. As far as how I know, you'll simply have to trust me."

She sank back to the divan, left with more questions than answers.

Elon knelt in front of her. "Between leaving the jailhouse, marrying me, and facing Akan—" he winked "—I'd imagine it's been a long day for you. May I escort you to bed?"

"Yes. Please." She couldn't remember when last her sleep had been undisturbed and untroubled.

Elon eased his arms around her, as if he feared she'd startle, and lifted her. He set her on the softest mattress, and it felt like it was the same cream-and-cloud fabric as her lingerie.

Elon drew the blanket to her chin and tucked it around her. Warmth cocooned her at the comforting gesture. No one had done such for her since she was a tiny girl. Elon bent close to her, and she was sure he meant to kiss her cheek, but she was asleep before he could.

***

A blade of moonlight sliced between the thick curtains. Carissa inched backwards, burrowing herself deeper into the caress of the blankets, and a hand brushed her lower back.

Carissa sat upright with a gasp so sharp it stung her throat.

A man sat up with a moan. "Carissa?"

Her heart smacked against the bars of her ribs, and she scrambled out of the bed. She had to escape, had to get out. She refused to tolerate another night of this torture.

"Carissa." The voice was sharper, alert.

She had to run before he came fully awake.

The man flung off the covers and rolled out of the bed.

Too late. She dashed across the room and dared a glanced over her shoulder.

Though the man was close, she could discern nothing from his silhouette other than the breadth of his shoulder, indicating strength. "Carissa, stop. You're going to—"

Something wooden rammed into her shin. The man latched onto her arms, and she jerked away, pulling them both of them down. They landed with a splash, and water engulfed her.

***

Author's Note: Check my profile or the external link here for a sneak peek :)