Thread of Ash and Fire

Ch. 38: A Beautiful Place to Be

Isolde stilled.

Halson chuckled in her ear, and the sound chafed like velvet. She drew in a ragged breath around the elbow pressed to her throat. The room was filled with noise — the clashing of metal, pained cries, a sickening crunch — but her heartbeat was the loudest of all. She couldn't see anything. Couldn't think.

"You're not real," Isolde whispered.

She had to believe that. The nightmare somnium could be confusing her senses. Halson could be half-dream, sprung from her worst fears.

Halson's mouth curled against her ear. "That's adorable." His fingers ghosted down her bare arm. "Doesn't this feel real to you?"

Isolde snatched her wrist away. "Get your hands off of me."

"You're my wife." Halson's grip tightened. "I can touch you however I'd like."

"Isolde."

Julian's anguished voice rose above the din. Halson sighed.

"Oh, Julian." Her husband's voice was bright with amusement. "So stupidly infatuated. It would be cute if it wasn't so pathetic." Isolde snarled, half-twisting in his grip, and Halson's hand tightened on her waist. "Ah, ah. I wouldn't struggle, my love. That will make things much harder for you."

Blind rage filled her.

Isolde unsheathed the knife in her glass foot. She swung backwards, but Halson was faster; he stamped down, pinning her foot to the floor. He was wearing a heavy suit of some sort, Isolde realized belatedly; all the soldiers were. That's how they were withstanding the nightmare somnium.

"The leg." Halson's breath was hot in her ear. "That was a good trick, once upon a time. But it won't work twice." He raised his voice. "Guards!"

Bodies closed in.

Wild fear filled her. Isolde thrashed, a half-desperate sob caught in her throat. Memories cycled through her mind. Halson pinning her to the desk. The stench of red wine. An open window. A flickering candle.

Do something, she urged herself. Hit him. Fight him.

But her hands wouldn't work.

She couldn't move.

Halson's voice was low in her ear. "If it was up to me, I'd kill you right now. But there's a lot of sympathy for you in the kingdom. Local idiots that seem to think you're worth something because the goddess chose you." His grip was painful. "So we're going back to the palace, where you'll put on something nice. Maybe sit on my lap at dinner."

The word was a sob. "No."

Halson's voice was hard enough to bruise. "We're going to play happy family, Isolde. Whether you like it or not."

"No."

"Who knows?" Halson's teeth grazed her earlobe. "Maybe I'll even grow attached to you. It could save your life." His hand slipped under her oversized t-shirt, stroking the bare skin. "After all, you do have certain... draws."

She twisted. "Let go of me."

"Poor, poor lamb." His hand climbed higher. "You don't have to like it. All you have to do is hold still and let me—"

Halson cried out, stumbling backwards. Something silver flashed through the smoke. A knife, Isolde realized dazedly; her rescuer had sliced him across the face.

"Run!" Malissa appeared, her face streaked with blood. "Run, Isolde."

Isolde ran.

She stumbled blindly for the door. Her heart was pumping wildly, her entire body trembling. Her leg struck something. A table? A chair? She couldn't tell; her kneecap throbbed. Where the hell was the door? Phantom arms reached for her, brushing her arms, her elbows—