“I’m really dirty now,” Mora spat as she tried to hide the fear in her voice. “I think it’s been 6 days since I last washed up. I probably smell terrible. It’s probably even been ten days since I haven’t washed my hair.”
Mora looked at him. “Let me wash up. Please.”
He was looking at her in annoyance when got up. She let out a sigh of relief and moved to follow him up, but Regnart grabbed her half-torn priest’s robe and ripped it off completely.
“Take off your underwear,” he commanded.
“Take it off.”
His voice was so terrifying that Mora had no choice but to listen to him. He ripped her underwear as she handed it to him.
Mora crouched down and looked at her ruined clothes. She was trembling. She felt like her body was going to be next, that he was going to destroy her next. Even as he was ripped off the clothes, he stared only at her. She knew his intentions.
He threw all her torn clothes onto the ground and gestured for her to move. “Get up.”
“W-what about my clothes?” she stuttered.
“Wear what you have.”
Mora did not move. Regnart frowned.
“You don’t have any spare clothes in your travel bag?” he asked.
She nodded and looked down, flustered. The other priest’s robe that she wore regularly had become too worn out, so she threw it out. The only one she had left was the one he had ripped to shreds just moments before.
“There were no stores on the way here,” she explained. “So, I couldn’t buy a spare rob.”
He looked in bewilderment, then he picked up a cape from the floor and threw it at Mora. She blinked and looked between him and the cape.
“So stupid,” he hissed. He picked up the cape and wrapped her up in it. Then, he hauled her up and over his shoulder.
“Ah!” Mora screamed as she curled over his arm. She felt nauseous as her head was suddenly turned upside down when he lifted her body.
“It’ll be better if you shut your mouth,” Regnart told her. “You make me want to throw you on the ground.”
She stayed quiet and, eventually, he brought her out of the drawing room. As he walked out without even glancing at the knights, everyone that saw him became terrified.
“Are you going back to your room?” Darren, the head knight of the fortress, asked.
Darren led the way without saying much and Regnart followed him.
The drawing room was on the first floor and his bedroom was on the fifth. Darren was leading the way slowly, as if he was being considerate of Regnart holding Mora, and it took quite a while to reach the fifth floor. Darren opened the only door in the hallway. He waited until Regnart went in, bowed stiffly, and then closed the door behind them.
Regnart ignored the sound of the lock clicking into place. He went into the bathroom on the left side of the chambers and placed Mora in the tub.
“Mora,” he said.
Her eyes were closed, as if she had fallen asleep. Her pale face was even paler than it had ever been. She looked like a corpse in the bathtub.
He turned the water on and warmth spread across Mora’s skin. He smiled gently as he saw her sinking into the water. “How laughable,” he said. “You would’ve become the queen if you had just stayed with me. You would’ve become the most precious woman in the realm and had all the luxuries imaginable.”
Her hair started to float in the water. What was black from its roots when they first met was now nearly white from all the effort that binding his power had cost her.
“But you ruined me,” he said. “You ruined yourself and came back to me looking pathetic.”
The water was up to her mouth now. She would have drowned if he had left her alone, so easily, so simply—so much so that it was boring.
“You probably don’t know what it means to be a wife of a dethroned king.” He lifted her top up and propped her up so that her face wouldn’t go under the water. “Would you regret it when you get to the end?”
The way he was touching her hair was too kind. “I hope you won’t be comfortable, even in your dreams.”