Chapter 9

The room had a small balcony overlooking one of the inner courtyards and Oscar moved there, pulling the drapes shut behind him. Clara stared after him, unable to move. What just happened? The bed still stood in front of her, still empty, unused. Oscar didn't hurt her. He promised not to do anything until she wanted it. Why would she ever want that? Clara pushed that question aside, unable to deal with that right now. What was it he wanted her to do? Her mind was so full of thoughts whirling about that she couldn't focus.

Her dress, of course, he talked about her dress. He wasn't wrong, the fabric tightly wrapped around her chest wasn't exactly comfortable, and changing into a loose nightgown was tempting. Clara glanced towards the balcony door. Nothing moved there, the drapes were thick and heavy, covering the entire passage. Oscar said he wouldn't look and she believed him. If he truly wanted to see her naked, he could have just forced her to strip in front of him.

Clara forced her stiff arms to move, trembling fingers reached for the back of her dress and she sniffled. There was a long line of tiny buttons and hooks holding the fabric together and Clara wrestled against them, getting increasingly desperate. She couldn't do it, she couldn't even reach all the way back there. No, this thing was clearly designed so that the woman had no chance of taking it off on her own.

Why did she always have to fight against the customs? Why couldn't she just be an obedient wife like all the others? Oscar was so incredibly nice to her, he deserved better. She couldn't control the tears anymore and they ran down her cheeks in streams. Her shoulders twitched as a sob forced its way through her throat.

No, she couldn't cry! Unhook the tiny piece of wire. Slip the button through the hole. Her fingers felt too numb to perform such a delicate task. She sniffled and sobbed again, the harder she tried to fight against it, the worse it got until she could no longer stand and slid down to her knees, covering her face with her hands. Never in her life had she felt so desperate. Abandoned by everyone who was supposed to love and protect her. Useless, as if her whole life had been one huge failure. And scared, afraid of what was going to happen tonight, terrified of what she had to do in the next few days and what would happen if she failed.

When she felt a hand on her shoulder, Clara flinched. She was sobbing so hard she didn't even hear him return. Another thing she failed at. Men hated crying girls. Oscar sat down next to her and hugged her, gently putting an arm around her at first, giving her a chance to pull away. She should have, he was one of the reasons she was crying in the first place. But she felt so incredibly alone even a touch of a stranger was better than nothing. So, even though she was afraid of the price she would have to pay for it later, she stayed still and didn't protest when he grabbed her tighter and pulled her into his arms.

It was almost absurd how safe she felt being hugged by a man she had just met earlier today and knew nothing about him other than that he liked apples. Oscar didn't scorn her for soaking the front of his fancy wedding jacket with her tears. Didn't get angry when all her attempts at suppressing the sobs failed. Didn't try to sneak out of the room looking nervous and embarrassed like her father always did when she cried. He just sat there in silence on the cold floor in what must have been quite an uncomfortable position and held her, rocking back and forth slightly, patiently waiting for her to calm down.

Clara cried for a long time. She cried for her dead father, her heartless mother, her poor brother, who was probably scared and in pain. For the king who had to die so Sebastian could live. For herself and all the tragedies that had to fall on her head for some cosmic reason. Eventually, there were no more tears left. Clara stayed in Oscar's arms, trembling in his firm hug, afraid of what he was going to say. He smelled nice, there was a gentle touch of perfume but, for the main part, it was just him. To her surprise, she really liked the scent of Oscar Huxley. "I'm sorry." Her voice was barely a whisper and she didn't dare to move, afraid to break the moment.

"It's alright." His tone was soft and comforting and he raised one hand to stroke her hair. "If it helps, cry all you want. I just wish there was something I could do to make you feel better."

Could it be possible she just met the one man in the entire universe that didn't mind when a girl was crying? "You did. Thank you. I swear I normally don't cry this much. It's just since my father…" A sniffle interrupted her words and she chose not to finish the thought. Thinking about him was still too painful.

"Did he…" Oscar started quietly and took a deep breath before continuing. "Did he die in the battle against us?"

Us. The kingdom of Levanta. Must have been hard for him to start thinking about himself as an Orellian which he was now. Clara shook her head. "No. He was an admiral. Some pirates lured his ship into a trap and killed everyone." She felt Oscar's body relax and his slow exhale sounded almost like a sigh of relief.

Upon trying to shift her weight Clara winced in pain, as a sudden wave of pins and needles pinched the leg she had been sitting on. Oscar felt her move and let go of her, groaning quietly as he picked himself off the ground and stretched his limbs. Without his arms around her, Clara felt strangely abandoned, almost wishing he would embrace her again. He extended his hand towards her and helped her up, gently holding her elbows until she could safely stand on both her legs again. A tiny part of her wanted to pretend to falter just so he would catch her and she could enjoy his scent and warmth again. How childish.

They were standing right next to the bed now, and as Clara watched the clean white sheets, she realized something horrible. Oscar must have noticed her face losing color again because he touched the back of her palm to get her attention. "Clara, I told you, we don't-"

"No, you don't understand," she interrupted him, biting on her lower lip while trying to figure out what to do. Eyebrows raised, Oscar waited for an explanation and Clara hesitantly continued, "If we don't…" Damn, she couldn't even say it. "If there is no proof we… consummated our marriage, people will talk, they will call me unchaste, they can have me put on trial for not being pure for the wedding night. You could get in trouble too." Normally, it wouldn't even occur to her to think people would do that, but Oscar had enemies. And his enemies were now also her enemies, as lord Umber clearly demonstrated earlier.

Oscar frowned as he thought about her words. "I didn't think about that," he admitted. "But it doesn't change anything. People will just have to take my word for it."

"No, it's too risky. You…" How to put it so she wouldn't offend him? "You are new here, have too many eyes on you."

He chuckled softly. "Very diplomatically said, my dear wife. But you are right, everybody hates me here and will be looking for any reason to take me out."

"Yes. So… we should just do it, I… I feel better now, I can do it." Ironically, she really did feel better after crying for so long, as if the tears had washed away a part of her fears and worries.

"Clara, I admit I've been with a lot of women. Some of them I have wooed with sweet words or empty promises, some of them I have paid. But I have never taken one against her will and I'm certainly not going to start now, with you of all people."

His confession surprised her. Of course, she expected him to be more experienced but admitting it out loud like this still made her feel strange. "I'm your wife, I can't say no to you."

"That doesn't make it any less of a ****, Clara." He rolled his eyes and walked around the bed to stand at the other side of it. It wasn't true. Technically, a husband couldn't **** his wife, except for some rare cases when he forced himself on her while she was shortly before or after giving birth. Other than that, the woman had no right to refuse him.

Clara clenched her fists. She didn't need any extra eyes on her with what she needed to do to save Sebastian. "I want you to do it." That was what he wanted to hear, wasn't it?

"No, you don't." Of course she didn't, it must have been clearly written on her face. "Look," he gave her a soft smile, "if the woman isn't ready and doesn't truly want it, it gets quite uncomfortable for her, painful even. I don't wish that for you."

"Isn't it always like that? My mother…" Clara clamped her mouth shut in the middle of a word, feeling her cheeks turning red. She couldn't possibly talk to him about that.

Oscar's eyebrow rose up as he waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he walked over to her, and grabbed her hand, kissing the back of it. There was an amused smirk on his face but it didn't feel like he was mocking her. "No, Clara, it certainly isn't always like that. Under normal circumstances, it's more than enjoyable for both."

Clara blinked in surprise, not sure what to say. Was her mother lying to her? Or maybe she didn't know any better? Maybe things were different in Levanta? No, that was nonsense. Perhaps it was Oscar who was lying to her to ease her fear, to prevent her from bursting into tears again. That sounded like the most logical option.

He moved back to the side of the bed and pulled the blanket aside. "There should be a long strap of cloth in that cabinet over there." His finger pointed towards one of the walls and Clara walked there, searching through the drawer until she found what he wanted, not even daring to guess why he needed such a thing now. Upon turning around, she saw her husband with a dagger in his hand and before she could do anything to stop him, he ran the blade over his palm.

The cut wasn't deep, it was more of a scratch, but it filled with blood quickly and when Oscar clenched his fist, holding it over the center of the bed, a few drops fell down on the sheet, making a small, bright red stain. "Now there's proof." He smirked and moved to Clara, holding his bleeding palm in front of her. It took her a second to realize what he was doing, and as she was wrapping his hand, her eyes kept jumping to the stained sheet. She couldn't believe it. He just gave her a way out and didn't seem to be asking for anything in return. "Don't worry about it," he touched her cheek, making her turn away from the bed, "I probably overdid it, I don't think there's that much blood."

"You've never…?" Gods, why was she asking him? Not only was it incredibly personal but did she really want to know more about his past experiences?

He blushed a little. "Proper girls don't really willingly give out their maidenhood to scoundrels like me." Scoundrels? He seemed like the nicest, most gallant man Clara had ever met. He spoke before she could ask him about it. "It should be dry quickly if you want to go to sleep. Or we could stay up and talk."

While actually getting to know her husband was tempting, Clara could barely keep her eyes open anymore. "Could we talk tomorrow, please? I really want to but I'm exhausted." He smiled at her and nodded. "Oscar?" This was so embarrassing. "Could you please help me out of this dress? I tried but I just can't…" She almost sniffled again. Damn, why did the stupid dress make her want to cry?

"Of course, my lady." There was amusement on his face but not the bad kind. Clara hesitantly turned away from him and tried not to flinch when his fingers gripped the fabric of her dress. "Seriously, who invents these things?" he mumbled as he skillfully removed the hooks and buttons. Clara could say he was being extra careful not to touch her skin but his fingers slipped a couple of times and the girl shivered upon feeling them slide along her spine. Fortunately, he was much faster than Clara (being able to see what he was doing probably helped a lot) and soon, the entire back of her dress was undone.

Oscar waited on the balcony again while she finally took that thing off, tempted to toss it into the empty hearth and set it on fire. It was not like she was going to wear it again anyway. She put on her nightgown and a long robe over it before calling him back into the room.

They stood facing each other, the large bed in between them. Oscar scratched his head. "I know it would be very gallant and gentlemanly to offer you the bed for yourself but I would really prefer not to sleep on the floor." Yes, after sitting on it for a while, Clara had to agree that it wouldn't be very comfortable.

"It's alright." He had been so nice to her she would never let him do it. If anyone should sleep on the floor, it should be Clara. But the bed seemed large enough for both of them. "I think we can manage." For some inexplicable reason, she trusted him. And maybe even wanted to be close to him, no matter how ironic it sounded. She turned away, blowing the candles off while he undressed. A part of her was tempted to peek at him but she was too afraid he'd notice. What would he think about her if he did?

Without the candlelight, the room was pitch black. Clara carefully walked over to the bed, not wanting to hit her toe, and removed her robe before crawling into it. Knowing someone was lying next to her, hearing his quiet breathing, feeling a soft pull on the blanket as his hands clutched it closer… It was beyond strange. Clara doubted she'd be able to fall asleep at all. "Oscar?" she whispered upon feeling him wiggle to find a comfortable position. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He was quiet for a while and Clara thought he fell asleep when he suddenly spoke. "Clara? You don't have to answer if you don't want to but… what exactly has your mother told you? Because it seems that you have a very, very wrong idea about the whole thing."

Good thing the room was so dark because Clara felt she was red from head to toe. Did he really want to talk about that? And did she really have the wrong idea? The thought was tempting. She sighed, eternally grateful Oscar couldn't see her. "She said it's something we have to suffer through to keep the man happy and have a good life." It was just one of the many things Sophia Redwood has told her but it described the feeling Clara had from her speech the best.

"Ouch. Now I feel sorry for her. That's simply not true, Clara. And I hope one day I can prove it to you." He sounded so honest a tiny seed of hope woke up in Clara's mind and started to take root. Until she remembered the glass vial and what she had to do. Now the guilt she felt has doubled. She was going to drag Oscar down with her and he certainly didn't deserve that. "Don't worry about it now. Sleep, Clara. You are safe."

And for the first time in weeks, she really did feel safe.