“They’re all so beautiful,” I mutter to Solena, taking in their silken hair and impossibly stunning features, despite the sneers directed at me. It feels as if I can sense the power radiating from them, the light bending and shimmering in their presence.
She scoffs. “Some of them, but most glamor themselves to appear more attractive than they truly are. It’s a terrible waste of powerful magic—transforming your eye color or smoothing out a few wrinkles.”
At the end of the table, King Kaelus and Queen Lanneth sit in their thrones on the dais, and they rise in unison as I approach. Kaelus wears a long, midnight blue tunic of heavy silk, its rich fabric adorned with bold, silver embroidery in intricate, ancient patterns that swirl like storm clouds across his broad shoulders and down the length of his sleeves, while Lanneth is draped in shimmery ivory satin that clings to her long, gaunt frame, with a dazzling diamond choker tight around the creamy skin of her neck and her face caked in heavy white powder. If her aim was to appear as a nightmarish specter, she succeeded.
I notice something different about the dais tonight as the moonlight filters through the stained glass and dapples the stone with swirls of color. A fourth throne to the side of the king and queen, positioned next to Daed’s throne.
But my husband is not here.
“Princess Amara,” Kaelus says, his arms unfurled.
Solena carefully slips her arm from my gasp, and Arax steps aside so I might join the king and queen on the dais, and as I stand before the king, I’m unsure what to do. We have never embraced. We have barely exchanged words. I can only imagine this is for the benefit of the guests. I do what is expected of me and allow Kaelus to take me into his arms. It is warm but awkward, and I’m not certain where I should put my hands, but thankfully it’s all over before I have to think on it too much. He sends me off to Lanneth with a stiff pat on the shoulder. Then I must endure the queen’s icy, skeletal frame as her arms snake around me and I am poked and prodded by every jutting bone in her body. Fortunately, our tender moment is over even quicker and she gestures to the second throne at her side.
“For you, daughter,” she says, her pale pink lips curving into a smile.
I walk to the throne and pick up the edges of my gown, then sink into the hard, cold stone. It is just a chair. A silly chair of no real importance. I tell myself this to keep calm and stop my heart from beating straight out of my chest.
But it is not just a chair. It is a throne. A throne for a princess of House Mordorin, a title none of Fae staring daggers at me believe I should wear.
“Where is Daedalus?” I gulp. I wish he was here for many reasons, but most of all because I know how he loves attention, and the way he commands a room will hopefully take the focus away from me.
But the way Kaelus and Lanneth react, with side way glances and long exhales, makes me believe they do not know the whereabouts of their son either.
Kaelus leans on his knee and hisses at Arax. “Find your prince,” he orders.
Arax bows and takes a heavy step forward, but before he can move any further, the grand doors swing open.
I sense him before he even enters the hall—the dark presence I know all too well.
There he stands, draped in black from head to toe. His finely tailored jacket clings to his broad shoulders, the fabric so dark it seems to swallow the light. Golden stitching weaves along the edges, intricate and regal, glinting in the night. Each step he takes is measured and confident, his heavy leather boots echoing on the stone floor, a rhythm that quickens my pulse despite myself.
Daedalus strides towards the dais, moving with a predator’s grace, each stride purposeful. The air around him seems to hum with a dangerous energy, drawing the eyes of every guest he passes. I can see it in their faces—male and female alike—howthey can’t help but be captivated by the dark allure he exudes, as if they’re caught in the pull of something they can’t quite name. He owns the room without a word, without a glance, and I despise and admire him for it in equal measure.
As he approaches the throne, I force myself to meet his gaze, even as my heart pounds harder in my chest. There’s something about the way he looks at me; a proprietary glint in those gray eyes that makes my blood run both hot and cold. I hate him for the power he holds over me, for the way his presence alone sends a shiver down my spine.
Kaelus’ shoulders heave with relief as he stands to greet his son. They grip each other’s forearms, then pull each other into a firm embrace.
“Son,” Kaelus breathes. “Welcome.” The king glances at me, his eyes wide with urgency. “Amara. Come.”
I rise from the chair that I fear will never feel comfortable and wait to hear what I’m supposed to do next. But instead of instructions, Daed extends his hand to me. I look at his stern face, but he does not meet my gaze. He splays his fingers impatiently, so I slip my hand into his grip and he closes his grasp.
“Kindred. Brethren. Fae of Mordorin,” Kaelus booms. “I welcome you to Baev’kalath, seat of our ancient house, and ask that you join us to feast and celebrate the union of our prince. Heir to the throne of the Sundered Kingdoms. Commander of the Ebon Flight. Daedalus Phaedren and his bride, Amara, Jewel of the Tenders.”
A prickly hush falls over the assembly, as no one dares to speak a word, but their bitter expressions scream outrage.
This can not be the first they have heard of our marriage, can it?
I think back to our rushed wedding. I did not know what thrall houses were then, but now I assume all in attendance that night were Mordorin of Baev’kalath. I gulp.
Souls. They do not know.
“What is the meaning of this, Kaelus,” asks a tall, willowy Fae with red eyes like hot embers. “You could join your son with any of our daughters, but you choose a human?”
Kaelus raises his hand. “This is not the time, Sarberos.”
Two women, with identical features and shaven heads, wearing heavy, sable fur cloaks, push their way to the front.
“This is an insult,” one shrieks, baring her sharpened canine teeth. “The humans are traitors!”
