A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 77

※The Eve (4)※

Black slid a parchment scroll across the table, the movement fluid and deliberate. The ink was dark and permanent, a record intended to outlast them all.

Zerquess flinched as it approached, half-expecting a blow, but the scroll stopped with uncanny precision right before his hands.

[Burrey] "What is this supposed to be?"

Black’s brow arched, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

[Black] "Your tongue seems to have shrunk, Burrey. Is that any way to address the Prince Consort?"

Randall, sensing an opportunity, stood up with a predatory grin.

[Randall] "I’d be happy to trim it for you, My Lord!"

This time, Black didn't tell him to sit down.

Randall began to hum a jaunty tune, pulling a wicked-looking dagger from the sheath strapped to his thigh. The contrast between his cheerful humming and the casual way he tested the blade’s edge was enough to make everyone’s blood run cold.

[Burrey] "No! Stay back! You wouldn't dare... Not to an Elder of the Grand Council!"

He scrambled out of his chair, backing away from Randall as if the mercenary were a plague-bearer.

[Black] "‘Dare’?"

Black tilted his head, his expression one of bored contempt.

[Black] "It seems the half-wits of Nauk were never taught how to speak to their superiors in their own homes."

[Randall] "Which is exactly why it needs to go."

His humming grew louder, more rhythmic.

[Randall] "A tongue that hasn't learned manners by that age is just dead weight, wouldn't you say?"

With a sudden, explosive movement, Randall lunged. He grabbed Burrey by the collar, hauling the older man forward.

[Randall] "Open wide, old man. Cooperate, and I’ll make it quick. I might even use the sharp side."

[Burrey] "Aaaargh! No! Let go of me! Help!"

[Randall] "Shh. Be still. If you keep squirming, the cut won't be clean."

[Burrey] "Stop him! Someone, for the love of God, stop him! What are you all doing just sitting there?!"

Burrey’s voice cracked into a desperate shriek. The other nobles were ashen, but not a single one moved to intervene. They lacked the courage to face the Tiwakan, and deep down, they knew the provocation was real.

The punishment was absurdly barbaric, of course, but power had shifted. They were beginning to realize just how easy a sovereign Liene Arsak had been compared to the man sitting at the head of their table.

[Randall] "Don't close your mouth. Keep it open. If you don't stick it out, I’m coming in after it."

Randall pressed the cold tip of the dagger against Burrey’s trembling lips.

[Burrey] "...!"

Sssss...

A sharp, acrid scent filled the air.

Burrey’s eyes rolled back in his head, and a dark stain spread rapidly across the front of his fine silk trousers. He had lost control of his bladder right there in the middle of the Council Chamber.

[Randall] "Ugh, god, that’s disgusting!"

Randall recoiled, releasing Burrey to avoid getting his boots wet.

The Elder collapsed into a pathetic heap on the floor, weeping and shivering in his own mess.

[Black] "Sign it."

His voice cut through the stunned silence like a low-frequency hum.

[Zerquess] "We... we should at least know... what we are signing. Is that not... reasonable?"

Zerquess’s tone was now impeccably polite, his previous arrogance washed away by the sight of Burrey’s humiliation.

[Black] "The Treaty of Risebury."

[Zerquess] "What? What did you say?"

[Black] "A gift from the Princess’ husband to the Elders. Since you all seem so fond of the treaty."

[Zerquess] "But why... why sign it now?"

[Black] "Because a signature is missing from the original, rendering the entire treaty void. I wouldn't want you to feel deprived, so I’ve prepared a replacement. My name will take the place of the one that was lost."

[Zerquess] "..."

Suspecting a trap, Zerquess snatched up the scroll and unfurled it. The other nobles huddled around him, their eyes scanning the cramped, meticulous script.

At first glance, it was the Treaty of Risebury in its entirety. But as they looked closer, they saw the subtle, lethal alterations. A single word changed here, a suffix added there.

Where the original stated, "The Grand Council has the authority to oversee Royal appointments," the new version read, "The Grand Council does not have the authority."

There were new additions as well: the Elders were now subject to royal taxation, and members of the Royal Family held the permanent right to convene and preside over Council sessions.

[Zerquess] "This... this is nothing but a word game! A mockery!"

[Black] "I felt the same way about the original. It wasn't a treaty; it was a ransom note."

[Black] "Sign it. That is, if you’d like to keep the hands you're signing it with."

The threat was unmistakable. If their hands were broken, they’d be signing with their teeth.

[Rosadel] "Give it here."

He snatched the parchment from Zerquess’s shaking hands.

[Zerquess] "Lord Rosadel! Don't be rash! We need to discuss this among ourselves!"

[Rosadel] "What is there to discuss? The man told us to sign."

Black nodded slowly.

[Black] "Precisely. You have until I count to ten to sign with your hands intact. One."

[Rosadel] "Gah!"

Rosadel let out a strangled sound and began scribbling his name in the first available slot.

[Zerquess] "My Lord!"

His protest died in his throat as Ellaroyden pushed past him to sign next, his pen moving with frantic, desperate speed.

[Black] "Two. Three..."

By the count of five, Armendaris had finished. Only two remained.

[Black] "...Seven. Eight."

At eight, Zerquess ground his teeth and grabbed the pen. He could almost feel the phantom snap of his wrist.

[Black] "Ten. It seems we have one laggard."

He gestured to the unconscious, soiled heap that was Burrey.

[Black] "Wake him up."

[Randall] "With pleasure, My Lord."

Randall didn't waste time searching for a basin of water; he had a sharper way to wake the man up.

Since the time for "manual" signing had passed, Burrey was going to learn how to sign with a broken hand anyway.

[Burrey] "AAAAAGH!"

His scream echoed through the chamber, marking the official birth of the revised treaty.

---

[Black] "I’m sorry... You said what?"

His voice was flat, colored by a deep, simmering disbelief.

He had returned to the castle after the Council and a few other errands, only to be met with news he refused to accept.

[Liene] "I said I have work to do, so I’ll be sleeping in the Madam’s quarters for the next two nights."

[Black] "And... I’m expected to believe this?"

The words were out before he could filter them, sparking a flash of hurt in Liene’s eyes.

[Liene] "Are you saying I’m lying? Do you not trust me?"

[Black] "Dammit."

He rubbed his temples, realizing he’d let his possessiveness get the better of his tongue.

[Black] "I didn't mean it like that. I meant... I find it impossible to believe that such a thing is necessary."

[Liene] "It can't be helped. It’s a matter of great importance. It breaks my heart, too."

Black wanted to argue. In his world, the Commander of the Tiwakan did not simply "accept" being separated from what he wanted.

[Black] "Princess. Perhaps you should reconsider. Surely this requires my consent as your husband?"

[Liene] "Oh. Does it?"

They were sitting at the dinner table, the air between them thick with the scent of wine and roasted meats.

Liene offered him a small, apologetic smile.

[Liene] "I’m sorry. I’ve never had a spouse before. I didn't think to ask for permission. But the work is essential, and I hope you won't make it a problem."

[Black] "..."

Clack.

He set his fork down with a sharp click.

[Black] "And if I do make it a problem? Will you stay?"

[Liene] "I... I’m afraid I can't. I must do this."

[Black] "..."

His mind raced, trying to figure out what could be more important than their time together. But he refused to be petty. If she said it was necessary, he would trust her. It was only two nights.

The day after that was their wedding. He knew some cultures forbade the couple from seeing each other before the ceremony. Perhaps it was a Nauk tradition, or some ritual of the bride's family.

[Black] "Fine. I understand."

The words felt like lead in his mouth. His appetite vanished instantly. He picked up his napkin and wiped his lips, his movements stiff.

[Liene] "Are you angry?"

She asked, swallowing a mouthful of peas glazed in red wine.

[Black] "No."

[Liene] "Your face says otherwise."

[Black] "It would be absurd to be angry over such a thing."

[Liene] "Well... I think I would be angry. But I’d probably hide it behind a sigh and say I was disappointed instead."

He felt a slight thaw in his chest at her honesty. He turned his chair toward her.

[Black] "Does that mean you're disappointed too, Princess?"

[Liene] "Of course I am."

She lowered her lashes, her tongue darting out to lick a stray drop of wine from her lip.

[Liene] "The time we spend lying together, talking about our day... It’s the most precious part of my life right now."

[Black] "Then what could be worth giving that up?"

[Liene] "I... I’d prefer it if you didn't ask. It’s a bit embarrassing."

She couldn't tell him about the ruined embroidery. The guilt of the delay made her want to keep the surprise until it was perfect.

[Black] "I’d hope you’d never feel embarrassed in front of me."

[Liene] "Just this once. I promise."

[Black] "If you insist."

He tapped his cheek lightly.

[Black] "But since I am being so 'understanding,' I think I deserve a kiss."

[Liene] "Right now? During dinner?"

Her eyes widened. She had been quite enjoying the peas.

[Black] "I’m finished with my meal. You can go back to yours in a moment."

[Liene] "Then... fine. Close your eyes."

Black complied, offering his cheek.

Instead of a kiss, Liene—mischief sparkling in her eyes—pressed a wine-soaked pea against his lips and nudged it into his mouth.

[Black] "Mm."

He opened his eyes, startled by the sudden burst of sweetness and tart wine.

[Black] "What was that for?"

[Liene] "Because they’re delicious."

His lips, stained red by the wine from the pea, looked darker, more inviting. Liene found herself staring, her heart skipping a beat.

[Liene] "I was worried you’d lost your appetite. You ate so little. Now that you’ve had a taste, perhaps you’d like more?"

[Black] "An excellent suggestion."

Black reached out, his hand cupping her jaw as he pulled her toward him.

He didn't go for the peas. He leaned in until his lips brushed hers, tasting the wine on her breath.

[Black] "Delicious."

[Liene] "Wait, I didn't mean—"

[Black] "I’m going to enjoy this."

Then he kissed her. It wasn't the gentle peck she had expected; it was a deep, possessive claim that left her breathless and dizzy, her thoughts of dinner completely forgotten.

---

[Flambard] "Your Highness!"

Liene jumped. It was the third time she’d lost focus.

[Liene] "Sorry! I’ll be more careful."

She quickly pulled her hand away, checking her finger. A tiny bead of blood had formed where the needle had pricked her. She was terrified of staining the white wedding silk.

[Flambard] "Heaven help us, why do you keep stabbing yourself?"

[Liene] "I don't mean to..."

It’s because my mind is elsewhere. In a bedroom with a man who is sleeping alone. In his arms. Under the same blanket.

[Flambard] "Are you already exhausted?"

[Liene] "No, it’s just... my hand is a bit cramped from writing all those letters today. And the cut from the scissors the other day is still a bit tender."

It wasn't a lie. The mountain of paperwork had been brutal, and the old wound on her palm throbbed whenever she pulled the thread too tight.

But she didn't regret a second of it. If this was what it took to get to the altar, she would sew until her fingers fell off.

[Liene] "I think I’m just a little drowsy. I’ll go splash some cold water on my face."

She set the needle down and stood up.

A basin of water sat by the window in the Madam’s room. She dipped her hands in and pressed the freezing liquid to her skin.

It woke her up, but when she looked back at the piles of embroidery still left to do, the task felt like an endless mountain.

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