Young Writers Society

“You need to stop.” Carlota looked at Jack through the mirror as he spoke. He was standing in the door, and by his expression, you’d think he had seen the most horrifying tragedy. He closed the door and carefully locked it. It seemed like he didn’t want anyone else coming back in. He needn’t worry, though. Stella would be on her way out of the building soon.

“Why?” She took the brush from her vanity table and started brushing out the tangles in her dark, thick hair.

He stalked forward but halted in his tracks half a meter away from her. He raked his fingers though his hair, shoulders tight and high. “You are my wife.” His gaze moved to her hand. Her smooth, tan, and—most importantly—ringless hand. “You are my wife,” he repeated. She grimaced and put her hand on her lap. It just felt odd wearing the ring in private.

“I know. I was there at the wedding.”

“Then why don’t you act like my wife?” He walked the remaining fifty centimeters and placed his hands on the vanity table—one arm on either side of her. “Don’t you love me?”

His face was next to her. In the mirror, she could see what people meant. They were a striking couple. She had a constellation of dark freckles in her cheeks and nose, and her eyes were bright green—the contrast with her skin made them seem even brighter. Her lips were still swollen, her cheeks and chest flushed. And Jack. He was the best kind of rugged—he reminded her of a wolf. She could appreciate his beauty—you had to be blind not to. Big, gold eyes, sharp nose, and a squared jaw hidden by stubble. His wavy hair passed his chin and was now tickling her shoulder.

“I do love you.”

He tilted his head and started pressing kisses in her neck. She took a moment to look at both of them. He moved his hand from the table and touched her. It was innocent. Just a hand pressed flat against her abdomen. But then he started untying her robe and cupped her breast.

She pressed her lips into a line before speaking. “I love you; I don’t want you.”

She could feel his determination falter. He sighed—unpuffing his chest in the process—and stopped the trail of kisses. Jack stayed in place for another moment before moving away. He didn’t look at her and went to sit on the edge of the bed. He put his hands over his eyes and rubbed them.

She refused to believe that her rejection had stung him. She fixed her robe again and walked away from the mirror to sit next to him. Normally, she would put an arm across his shoulders to comfort him, but today she decided to leave her hands folded in her lap. This way he wouldn’t misconstrue anything.

“Talk to me,” she ordered. “What happened?”

“They know, Carlota. They know.” He glared at the floor and balled his fists.

She worked to keep her composure as her gut tangled itself into knots. “Who’s they?”

He turned his head to look at her and narrowed his eyes. “Everyone.” She kept quiet and waited for him to give her a better answer. “I heard some men in the guard joking about it.” He had a hard set on his jaw. “More me than you, actually. Your activities make them question my…virility.”

She let out a quiet sigh. Before she could catch herself, she reached out a hand to comfort him. It stayed hovering above his shoulder for a moment. She sighed and went ahead. He probably didn’t actually want her either. She rubbed his shoulder and combed back his hair. “I’m sorry that it embarrass you.”

“It is not that.” He shoved her arm away from him and stood up. “He knows. He. David. If they know, he knows.”

Her muscles became taut as she looked up at him. “He’s my brother,” she said between her teeth.

“So? You think you’d receive a different treatment because of that?”

She cringed, but then squared her shoulders again. “Yes. I do think that.”

He shook his head and flung his arms in the air. “Then you are stupid.”

She sprang to her feet and leaned forward. “I am not stupid. This is crazy, anyway. What century are we living in?”

“It is not the century. Like that matters? It is the situation, and this is the situation we are living in.” He matched her stance. They were nose to nose now.

“He is not cruel. He will snap of this phase. He’d die before hurting me.” She fisted her hand—nails cutting into her palms.

“When exactly is he going to? Tomorrow? A year from now? We are all waiting and meanwhile he has a whole army under his control. Like he is now—no. Like he is, he won’t hesitate to hurt you if you embarrass him. If you insult his beloved god.”

“You don’t know what—”

Both of their heads snapped to the door when they heard a knock.