The Conquerors bloodline

It had gone wrong. It had all gone wrong. What had she done? She'd followed his orders, done everything he wanted and he was throwing her out. Marigold bit her lip, staring blankly at the door leading to hers… to her husband's room. Strewn off to the side her luggage bag barely closed with one of her dresses hanging out the end. She couldn't comprehend it. She'd been obedient, did her best not to make Bleu angry and yet he was kicking her out in the middle of their vacation.

They hadn't even landed in Mistral yet and she was meant to find somewhere else to stay? He may have told her to go to that boy, that horrible boy who lied about her being abused… did… was he why she was being thrown away like a dirty rag?

She sucked her lips to lines, lifted her hand before her and watched the heavy shaking of the limb. Unable to steady, she could feel the tense vibrations rushing to her chest and twist her heart. Her lungs puffed, begging for breath. If she lifted her hand higher, rapped her knuckles against the door and begged him to take her back, would he?

He wouldn't. That way he looked at her, cold and empty, there was no love, no anger, no care or recognition. To him, she looked like an ant, not even worthy of being looked down upon.

Marigold glanced to her bag then down the short hallway where the rest of the regent suites were situated. The ones on the right-hand side were just a bit smaller to fit the two elevators and staircase. Just one set up and she'd be by that boy. Just like Bleu had ordered her.

She bit her lip white and thought back to just moments ago. Bleu may not have said much, bar ordering her to find that boy, but he had given her more orders, secretive ones. To do what the boy wanted, be it her body or whatever, but she was to find dirt on the boy. Enough to ensure that whatever secret the boy had would stay just that, secret.

Descending to her knees, she quickly repacked her bag and stood, now holding the handle and bringing the luggage onto its wheels. It didn't take for her to get to the first elevator but it took a minute for it to arrive.

Inside she reached for one of the numerous buttons, the highest of them all and labelled with a small 'E' but pressing it, nothing happened. No light lit up like with the rest of them. She pressed it again, still nothing. The Emperors was only for one person or a couple. The price paid for it was too much to just allow anyone to up and go exploring right next to it with such ease.

'I'll have to take the stairs…' bags formed under her eyes as she heard laughter and door shutting down the way. Someone was coming.

Without haste, she squeezed her way out of the elevator and turned to head to the side, a boy and a girl, young. Younger than her by decades. The boy dressed horribly, a garish red button-up unbuttoned halfway down with a thick gold necklace hanging around his neck standing out against his dark brown skin.

The girl on his hip, his arm wrapped around her slovenly and bare shoulder, his hand hanging ominously close to her thinly veiled breast and though he tried to hide it, she could see his hand tickling close to this small pointed nipple pushing through her off-the-shoulder white dress hemmed with thick and fluffy fur.

They certainly weren't the most likeable at first glance, but as they passed by the boy looked to Marigold, cast her a soft smile and a bob of his head which she returned in kind. Not long later the elevator door was shutting behind them, leaving in their way the muffled but endearing yelp of the woman.

Making way towards the staircase, Marigold gazed up its sloping steps and felt them rise higher and higher. Like a hill turning into a mountain into a cliff. As she ascended each felt heavier, ready to force her tumbling back down like a boulder shook free from its earthy confines. At the first and only half landing between the Regent suites and the Emperor Suites, Marigold twisted 180, she peered higher, she could see the lights and smell something like baked apple pie wafting from above. Her hand clasping her luggage was clammy and nervous. It felt like going up those steps would mean she'd be betraying Bleu.

He wouldn't like that… but he was the one who told her to go there.

An ache on her arm grew heavier. It wasn't new, maybe just a day or two old but it hurt more than one that had just happened. Each lugging step only made it ache even more and as she reached the highest step just below the final landing, she stopped, her bag resting on the step beneath hers.

Her focus was on the door at first, then soon fell to the floor. Just one step, she thought, just one step and my marriage is ruined. If she ran back, would he accept her again? Forgive her for going so far without even knocking on the door and saying sorry for what she did? What she didn't know she did?

She knew it wouldn't work. But these questions, they played on repeat in her mind. Again and again, they'd rumble around, wreaking havoc and panic across her body. Every breath felt like a hundred, every pump of her heart tried to blend oil and water, and every thought churned her stomach. Readying her to empty her lunch across the beautiful wood flooring.

Wetting her parched lips, Marigold shut her eyes and forced herself up the final, cumbersome step. A few tugs brought her baggage atop as well. At first, she didn't move, just stared at the door, watched it morph and twist with her thoughts.

'Did… did he sell me?' she wandered. 'Is he… am I going to be forced to sleep with him?' It wouldn't be the first time. Bleu liked his parties, the ones where his friends brought their wives and sometimes daughters and traded them like coins for an evening. Often he'd be watching, enjoying his time sipping wine Flore as they laughed and chattered on and on about recent business proposals while her husband was sodomized by Azuli Tenne.

Just imagining the pain he went through… those whips… it chilled her to the bone. Bleu had been kind enough to disallow their use on her, Flore had certainly been quite intent on using them on her to hear her squeal and cry.

Arriving by the door, Marigold hesitated for a second then slowly pressed her knuckles to the door without making a sound and began knocking. Weakly, soft enough that she couldn't even hear them herself. That boy wouldn't hear them, that much she knew but she just couldn't bring herself to knock any harder. What if he got angry with her? Or if he was busy with his lady friend and she interrupted? Would he hit her like Bleu did when she did something wrong?

A twisting fear circulated her body as she retracted from the door, without thinking she was spinning to the staircase. She couldn't do this anymore. Bleu was her husband, if she needed to beg and grovel at his feet she would. But going to this boy… it was just too much for her mind to handle.

Barely halfway to those hilly steps, Marigold halted upon hearing the creak and click of a door opening behind her. "He's not going to take you back." The boy said sending shivers down her spine. "There's too much at stake for him to even consider that."

Marigold turned her head to the boy but quickly looked away when she met his sharp red eyes. His back was straight, his body wide and muscular while conveying a similar presence of domination like Bleu's thinner form did on her. But there was something off to it… something that didn't make sense to her.

"What… what do you mean?" her speech trembled like with the discordant plucking of strings on a guitar.

"Your husband has secrets. All of them bad. I know those secrets, and I know how to use them. Bleu is scared of people learning about them."

What secrets? She couldn't help but think, just as quickly those thoughts were swept away with a shake of her head. It's thoughts like those that make Bleu angry. His secrets were his, not hers. If she tried to pry he'd just get furious and hit her again.

The boy looked down at her, his head lower than Bleu's ever was, and looked on pityingly at her hunched and pathetic form. Barely qualified to be called a human let alone a woman.

A silence filled the time between them and she could see his expression changing with every passing second. Hidden behind those sadly descended lips and pained eyes, there was an anger… and for once, it wasn't directed at her.

"You should come inside. The foods only going to get cold."

She lifted her head for a moment, clutched her baggage handle tighter and crossed her other hand to her side, covering an old, fading bruise hidden beneath her dress. The boys gaze followed her hand but were drawn up as she nodded weakly. He stepped out of her way, let her into the wide open and regal suite with the rhythmic noises of her luggage's wheels behind her.

A fragrance thick in spice and aroma filled her nostrils, beneath that the scent of baked apple beignets and sweetness peered through it all. That sick churning in her stomach turned to a grumbling hunger.

The boy shut the door behind her but when he turned to follow her, he discovered she hadn't dared to move farther inside. Chewing his cheek, he shook his head and squeezed past her, saying, "this way," and guided her deeper into the room. A left turn and she saw his partner, that vibrant and raven haired girl sat drooling as she stared down a whole skate dish set out before her. Ready to devour it should the gun be fired and the race started.

He pointed off to the side lazily and told her to set her luggage down against the wall. She did so without argument, with the scratch of a chair being pulled out, he then told her to take a seat, as she did he pushed her under, her hands on her laps, hidden beneath the table. As he skirted around, she wandered over the various dishes set down. A full meal, brilliant and elegant, nothing like her.

"You haven't eaten yet, right?" she shook her head. "Great, well feel free to dig."

Feel free? That wasn't an order. An offer? Of all things?contemporary romance

Marigold's hands hovered, hesitant but pulled out from under the table. She plucked a knife and a fork but didn't bring them to her meal. A look to the boy and he was already eating, casting her a look now and then but saying nothing more. Even the girl was doing the same. Silent as she dug flesh from the thin pin bones of the skate and dug in.

It didn't make sense to her. None of it did. Still, she began to eat, slowly, quietly, so as to not disturb them from their meal. Every bite did little to fill her empty stomach.

To her, this felt like a prelude to disaster.

done.co