Authors: Thank you for all your lovely feedback, as always - and for chiming in with regards to our publishing rate! There were preferences either way, but it seems like the majority of you favor longer chapters and slower updates. We'll just maintain our current rate then, which is about a chapter (3-4 pages) every one to two weeks. We wish we could go faster for you guys, but one of us has a full-time job and the other is a full-time student, so we're not always able to make as much time for this as we want. We can promise you that we'll keep you regularly posted in comments, however, if we come across delays!
We also appreciate all the discussion the story has generated! There will be a lot of fluctuation in terms of Alais's strategy, Alexander's treatment, and the dynamics between the two of them; what happened last chapter isn't the established standard, nor this one.
Oh, and look out for a little comment game at the end of this chapter!
*****
The morning light broke through the latticed windows with a gentle warmth, and that was the first thing that greeted Alexander as he slowly stirred from his slumber. The second thing was the tickle of fragrant hair at his nose, and a sense that there was a smaller, softer body ever so slightly nestled against his side. As his memories returned, along with a realization of who this bed companion was, he found himself resisting a smirk.
"Well, good morning there," he intoned, somewhere close to her ear. His arm had eased out, sometime during the night, and her head rested lightly on it, close to his own.
There was no missing the way her body went frigidly alert (to contrast that heated blush on her face) upon the realization of where she awoke.
Wordlessly, she half-slid half-scooted the short distance back to the edge - before she turned away and staring abashedly at the far wall, her hands anxiously gripping the sheets to her form. No answer fell from her lips, though he could hear the increased tempo of her breaths, matching the rise and fall of her chest.
During the final moments of awareness, he remembered his bride had been still adamantly clinging to that very same edge. The fire had probably flickered out in the middle of the night, leaving the room to chill to the natural effects of the ambient night-temperatures; she must have shifted toward center in some subconscious desire for warmth. It was not wholly unexpected, as there was only so much room on the bed, after all.
That didn't stop him from his teasing. "Making yourself comfortable, I see."
He grinned, catlike, watching her only half-open eyes. He shifted to stretch lazily, an all-bodied affair, such that his arms spread way past the headboard and his toes scraped the opposite end.
Turning, so that he rested upon his side, he propped his head up with a hand and regarded her with a thoughtful look. Facing the wall, she was inadvertently exposing her upper back for his viewing, and he took a moment to admire the delicate little ridges of her spine. He smiled to himself, allowing her to avoid the subject, for now - she'd given him enough for the night, hadn't she?
All in all, he was remarkably pleased by the events of his wedding night, which had superseded his expectations; he knew he'd enjoy her, youthful and comely as she was, but he could not have guessed at the degree of her sensitivity. It was quite
promising
- and it had only been a small taste of what lay in store. He had plans for his new acquisition, and he intended to enjoy the slow introduction of these perverse pleasures.
Neither did he think hed'd been overly cruel to her. He'd been malignantly motivated, perhaps - by forcing her to unwanted stimulation simply because
he
willed it, he demonstrated the power he had over her very body; it was not enough to simply take his pleasure, for what mattered more was shattering her detachment from it. Nonetheless...he
had
imparted a great deal of pleasure to her. Really, he thought smugly, she should have been quite grateful.
In any case, the fruit of his exertions meant that he was in a fairly good mood, and that made him almost amiable.
"There's a scenic trail through these woods, broad enough to accommodate riding," he informed her. "The path continues to the cliffs - a steep road in some aspects, but the vantage is quite stunning. Would you like to see it?"
She was still silent.
He laughed, propping himself up. "Your enthusiasm is downright daunting." Leaning down, he ghosted her temple with a kiss, and nudged her forward - briefly surprised when there was absolutely no reaction to these attentions. "Hmm. Go on then, get dressed."
Alexander kept an eye on her, in anticipation of further mischief. This one had a tendency to surprise him, if her stint in the wardrobe had anything to show. But after a moment, she merely rose from the bed, stiffly taking the sheets with her, and head to her dressing chambers in compliance.
*
This attitude persisted past their waking moments and into the morning.
His new queen had withdrawn into herself. Her features clouded over with a dazed and distant look, and not a single syllable threatened to pass through her lips. This would easily have won his irritation, had she been intractable and obstinate along with it. But no - she obliged to every one of his commands and even his suggestions, without so much as a show of resistance. Indeed, instruction seemed to be the
only
thing she knew to acknowledge, as if she were a half-made mechanical doll of sorts. She followed where directed, ate when encouraged.
The other, much smaller change was that she now wore a silk ribbon tied around her neck - ostensibly to conceal those lovely bite marks he'd left all over her skin. While it matched well enough with her day's gown, the maids had all sworn to seeing it upon her throat as early as she'd walked, a little unsteadily, into their grooming care (of course while covered in a brand new shift), and how she had reacted with something close to violence at every attempt to remove it. In every other instance, they reported, she had made herself utterly subdued, docile, and pliable. Were it not for her eerie silence, her sudden development of calmness might even have been an improvement from the past days.
Well,
calmness
was the kinder way to put it - a trancelike (comatose) impassiveness would be more accurate.
Alexander helped her to her horse - naturally sidesaddle, as was proper - and mounted his own, a more modest chestnut in place of his usual massive steed. Then they were off, followed discreetly by the customary entourage of servants and knights. Soon, he and his mute wife were riding side by side, at a gentle pace.
"You're a little quiet today," he observed, in what had to be one of the crowning understatements of their acquaintance.
As they rode along, he cast his eye over her, considering this newfound...
state
of hers, and how he might handle it.
At first, he made a mild attempt at pleasant conversation, speaking to her of the woods that they traversed, and recounting one or two anecdotes of his past adventures here. When this failed to elicit any reaction, he decided to allow her her distance and solitude; not generally one inclined to chatter, anyway, he fell into a peaceable quiet himself.
This was relatively kind of him, when he could have reacted with more characteristic cruelty. His benevolence was more impulsive than deliberate; he was still vaguely inspired by Ethan's reasoning, but he was also in one of his fairer moods, after a night where he'd claimed his bride to his satisfaction. Content with their
progress
, it was now easier to acknowledge that there were advantages to being generous, and he felt little difficulty in allowing his good mood and indulgence to surface.
And so, he decided today to be pleasant and patient, to coax her out of her strange condition, and, in short, to woo her back into life. This was not so much a thought-out strategy as it was a mood - perhaps, less generously, a whim. She was simply a little overwhelmed, he reasoned - perhaps still coming to terms with some of the emotions and passions of the night prior (it
was
a rather transformative experience, Alexander thought smugly). She merely needed some time, perhaps a few hours or so, and then she'd snap out of this marionette daze of hers.
They continued on, and he maintained this same patience throughout their shared riding. No more mention was made of her silence, and he was even rather considerate about it; he continued to be quiet himself, speaking only when utility called for it. On occasion, he would caution her about a treacherous step or an unsteady patch of ground, and a few times he dismounted to guide her through. In all this, his demeanor was downright solicitous.
The truly bizarre thing was that, in sporting this side of himself, Alexander was not, in fact, being insincere. It would perhaps have made more sense if he were putting up a facade, and was faking his goodwill. But this was not the case. Though he certainly could be cruel, the spectrum of his moods and capacities stretched very broadly; just as he could be genuinely malicious, he could also be genuinely agreeable. His current actions, though partially motivated by pragmatism, also came from a temporary but real spirit of generosity; he did, in those moments at least, desire to guide her from unease.
They stopped midway up the trail to take lunch, an affair that was only slightly less extravagant than the luxurious breakfast spread of their morning. Then there was further trekking, and upwards they went, through the narrow winding path and the pleasant forest noises of the animals within.
Finally, they emerged into the open cliffside - the trees fell away suddenly, granting them the reprieve of exposed air and expansive skies. "Come," he said, after they dismounted. He offered her his arm, guiding them forward and closer to the view.
The perspective really was beautiful - with veritable waves of tree-lines spreading to the horizon, and the distant silhouettes of the snow-capped mountains beyond. Alexander breathed in the crisp air, looking upon his lands with satisfaction, which was only stifled a little when he saw the utterly empty effect this had on his companion.
He had them sit and enjoy the view for a while (
enjoy
being a generous description of her impassivity), occasionally pointing out landmarks that he recognized or clusters of areas with the best game. Not a single response was to be returned, however, and she did not even flinch and wince away - as she had before - when he brushed close to her. The effect was bizarre; he was left with the impression of dragging along with him a compliant, life-sized doll - pretty, but lifeless.
The wind danced playfully with the hair, blowing some of it in her eyes which would have almost certainly caused it to obstruct her view, but she did nothing for it. It was only when the all-important ribbon itself began to shift with the gales that she made her motions to make the proper readjustments, before falling back into that lasting state of vacancy.
Alexander's one-sided conversation managed to push him into another phase: that of finding her behavior funny. A few quips in undertone introduced themselves here and there, such as a "You really should quiet down, I can barely get a word in" or "Even I wasn't aware I had such a devastating effect," or the ever awful "I did not know I had taken both your maidenhead
and
