Mariana melted into his embrace, and Edmund clenched his eyes shut at the sensation of her burying her face against his neck. Her tears stained the collar of his doublet. Hot. So very real—not an act. A strange weight settled in the pit of his stomach.
Tentatively, he tightened his hold on her. “Why do you listen to these voices, darling?”
Within his arms, she stiffened. “They are notvoices, Edmund,” Mariana hissed, lifting her face from his throat to glare at him. “It is the Lady, instructing me, guiding me.”
“Filling you with fear is more like it,” he countered with a grimace. “If I promise you that I mean you no harm, will you believe me?”
For a few breathless moments, she searched his face, her eyes scorching his. Searching. Studying. “Swear it,” she finally whispered, her breath caressing his face. “Swear it to me, and I will believe you.”
A swear. For once, Edmund hesitated—a split second and nothing more. “I swear it,” he vowed, sealing the binding contract those words presented with another kiss pressed to her brow. “I will not harm you, Mariana. I swear it.”
Uttering such a thing turned his stomach. Not because he intended to break his promise, but because he intended to keep it. He meant every word.
And he hated it.
Dear Lord, now what am I supposed to do?he prayed out of habit alone. But he had no answer to his desperate plea. No stroke of inspiration to guide his path. Of course, he hadn’t truly expected there to be one.
He had married a witch.
He had let her massacre his courtiers.
Imprison his mother.
Hold him hostage within his own court.
The Lord had surely abandoned him long ago. Here he had been so concerned about earning the High Shepherd’s ire—about being excommunicated from the Church—when he should have been worried about fates much worse than that.
Being trapped within his own personal Underworld here on the living plane.
Rescuing his mother was all he could do now. He had promised her he would, and he had no intention of breaking that promise.
Not even now, when he had yet another impossible vow to keep.
Chapter thirty-four
Seraphina
Afternoon came too swiftly. It arrived cold. Overcast.
And awash in frantic energy.
The frigid air sought to slice right through her fur cloak as Seraphina briskly strode across the courtyard, weaving between the sea of soldiers preparing to march and the courtiers waiting to see them off. Her Queensguard pressed in close around her, keeping the crowd at bay.
Confusion choked the air, mingled with a hint of excitement. Her sudden decision to send the men south before reinforcements from the north had arrived was the topic of conversation for theday. Snatches of conversation reached her ears as she hurried past: whispers, speculation. Her courtiers were surprised.
If they only knew her soldiers’ true destination, they would surely be surprised twice over. She could only pray none of them learned the truth before she had a chance to spring her trap.
There was no way for her to know just who was still loyal to her.
And who already belonged to Coreto.
Her eyes skimmed the crowd as she walked, hunting for any sign of her Crow amidst the chaos. Her mind whirred while she searched. Had she forgotten anything? Were there any key details she had overlooked?
Aldric had been right—this ploy of hers hinged on several big ‘ifs.’
If everything went according to plan.
If Coreto did not see through the ruse.
