The words caused her entire body to shiver, and her stomach churned with nausea. Melia's eyes grew round, shock sparking in their hazel depths.
"You mean, you were traded? But how?" Melia gasped, almost as if she were hopeful that she might one day be lucky enough to be traded into marrying a king.
I can't promise her that, but I can try to get her freedom, Iris realized, knowing that her luck might just be the luck of every trade bride on the Isle.
"It was luck, really," Iris shrugged. She gave Melia's hand a gentle squeeze and added, "And you are lucky too."
"How do you figure that?" Melia scowled at her then and it was clear that their open conversation had eased off some of the girl's anxiety. Some color had even begun to return to her face. Obviously, I'm taking her mind off things, Iris thought, or maybe, giving her hope.
Iris's stomach clenched all over again and she wondered, not for the first time, whether she should have kept her mouth shut.
No, that is what Perivale would have wanted, Iris knew. There was no way in fae hell she was going to allow him to keep her quiet anymore. She didn't owe him anything other than what he deserved.
"Well, Melia, Perivale was stupid enough to bring you to court," Iris said, smiling warmly to the girl, "and he probably didn't count on the fact that King Ember is nothing like him."
A flicker of hope flashed through Melia's eyes, and Iris felt her twist her hand beneath hers to grip her fingers. Then the hope seemed to die like a spark that hadn't had enough oxygen to start a fire, and she slipped her hand out from beneath Iris's entirely.
"That is a kind offer," Melia shook her head and turned her gaze down to her hands, "But there is nothing you can do."
Iris’s heart broke for the girl, remembering how she had once been in that very same mindset. It then soared when she sensed the man beside her glancing in her direction, and she remembered once more that he had been right. He had rescued her.
Taking a deep breath, Iris whispered, “I won’t allow him to break you as he tried to break me.”
That evening, as she sat in King Ember’s chambers, her head resting upon his chest, she took a deep breath before asking, “Your Grace, may I make a request?”
Ember, who had been resting his cheek atop her head and stroking her hair, paused to pull back and look down at her. He smiled sadly, as if he was upset that she even felt the need to ask, and responded, “You know you can ask anything of me.”
Will he still say the same thing when I make my request? Iris wondered. She couldn’t help but cringe imagining all the ways things could go wrong. Would Ember show his true colors and tell her that he saw nothing wrong with the tradition of trading brides? Would he be angry that she’d even been brave enough to ask? Would he be offended?
If Iris had felt even half as bad as she had the day she arrived at Ember’s court, there was no way she would have been brave enough to ask, but now she pushed herself up from his chest so she could look him in the eye.
“You must help Melia,” she said, simply but firmly. Then, feeling unsure of herself she began to babble, “It’s just not right. I can’t stand the thought of him doing to anyone else what he did to me. She doesn’t deserve that. Nobody does.”
Absent-mindedly, she began to ring her fingers around her wrists where the fading bruises remained. If she tried hard enough, she was sure she could still sense the soreness of her ribs where they had also been bruised by a well-aimed blow from Perivale’s fist.
She felt Ember tense beside her, and for just a moment, she imagined that he would blow up with anger. Then he gently took her hands in his, forcing them apart so that she could not touch the bruises anymore. A moment later, he lifted each of her wrists in turn to his mouth and kissed the bruises as though he could erase them with his lips. When he looked at her again there was both sadness and amusement mixed in his gaze. Holding her hands in one large hand, he used the other to stroke hair from her face and cup her cheek, “You need not have asked, my love.”
Why? Because you will do nothing? Iris thought scornfully, but her heart clenched with guilt, and she forced herself to remember that Ember was most definitely not Perivale.
Before she could say a word, Ember added, “I am already taking steps to fix the problem. Filton is acquiring information as we speak.”
What about all the other women? Iris asked silently, but she did not get a chance to voice the question because he seemed to sense it. With a smile he added, “I am already taking steps to have the tradition abolished, and anyone caught continuing with it will be severely punished. No woman deserves to be made a slave bride.”
He leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead, pulling her back into his arms and urging her to rest her head back on his chest. Iris sighed with relief and leaned into him for a moment. Then, tension gripped her all over again and she pulled herself back up again.
“What about all the women who have already been made slave brides?” she asked, her heart squeezing when she tried to imagine just how many there might be.
“Not every bride on the Spring Isle is a slave bride,” Ember pointed out, “I won’t be able to go through every marriage record. Some might not even be documented, but anyone who comes forward to request help once the changes have been made will be helped.”
The determined gleam in his eye made Iris’s heart soar. Unable to control the whirlwind of emotion that was swirling around inside her, Iris pushed herself up from the couch and moved to straddle her king. The spark of surprise in his eye was more than a little satisfying and an odd sense of power began to fuel Iris. though she knew he was not utterly powerless beneath her—he could simply pick her up and throw her off if he wished—she, for once, felt as though she held the control. It was a new and welcome feeling, and confidence wrapped her in a warm blanket as she leaned forward to kiss Ember, her fingers beginning to undo the buttons of his shirt.
“Perhaps if you intend to punish men who have partaken in trading brides, you should be punished,” Iris suggested, her voice dripping with seduction. She had meant for it to be amusing and perhaps a little naughty, but Ember seemed to take her words seriously. His face snapped away from hers and he grabbed hold of her wrists to force her hands away from his shirt.
Glaring at her, he growled, “You are always free to leave if you so wish.”
Iris’s stomach twisted painfully with rejection and when she felt his hands tightening their grip on her wrists, she instantly became fearful.
Is this him showing his true colors? She wondered but then she saw the hurt in his eyes, and she realized that his reaction was not out of anger, but perhaps guilt. Feeling ashamed that she had ever mentioned it, Iris gently urged her wrists from his grip and placed her palms back on his face. He glared back at her as if waiting for her to announce that she did indeed intend to leave. The hurt she saw in his gaze made her blood turn to ice. She never wished to hurt him like that.