The spikes along the ridge of his shoulders continue to their blade, tapering off to another great expanse of muscled flesh. But where his front is marked by only the occasional scar, evidence of a past battle maybe, his back is entirely covered, crisscrossed in puckered, silver scars. More scars than skin, andthe longer I look, the more I wonder what he must have endured to suffer that kind of damage. I can’t push down the lump in my throat or the hot tears pricking at the corners of my eyes while my gaze lingers far longer than it should.
Whoisthis demon I’m betrothed to?
“This all seems like quite a lot, doesn’t it?” I ask Morwen as she arranges even more gowns, cloaks, coats, stockings, jewelry, slippers—all manner of fine fabrics and craftsmanship too exquisite to ever beworn—in the wardrobe of my new chambers.
Right across the hall from Xandril’s.
It’s not nearly enough distance for my liking, my skin tingling warm every time I glance toward the door and think of him just on the other side of his, but I can hardly protest more when he’s already given me exactly what I asked of him.
Morwen looks at me in that way she does that makes me feel like even more of an outsider than I already do. Head tilted to one side, her broad nose wrinkling while she tries to keep the purse from her lips.
“No. You are the king’s bloodsworn bride,” she says, as if that should explain everything.
“Yes, but I can only wear one gown at a time.” I stop just short of letting slip that I won’t be here for long.
“That changes nothing. Emerald Reach is one of the wealthier reaches—may not look like it much lately, but Farandir didn’t squander away everything. A king has certain expectations in how he presents himself, even conquering generals who’ve never seen a day of court.”
I frown, fingers exploring the fine weave of a heavy cloak, not sure why the way she said that rubs me the wrong way.
“And so I, too, have certain expectations?” I fill in, not trying to hide my distaste for the idea.
“You bear all the same status and authority that he does. Bloodsworn brides are highly esteemed, given more rights than a chosen bride. Once your Bonding is complete, everything that is the king’s will be yours, too. It’s part of the ritual, making you equals in every sense.”
Equals?A married couple?
I’ve never heard of such a thing. The closest thing one might find to equality would come only from the purest of love matches. Most marriages are little more than a property exchange between households. Serenity warned me that I’d find things much different in the demon realm than I’m used to, but this isn’t quite what I’d imagined. This, I think I actually prefer. Not that it makes a bit of difference to me. I’ll be back home by spring, but it does give me some hope for how I’ll be treated during my time here.
Morwen is just about finished moving all my things from Xandril’s chambers across the hall. I get the sense she’s ready to dismiss herself, but I can’t spend another day by myself getting lost in this maze of a castle. The only place I’ve been able to reliably find my way to is the kitchen, and I swear the path is never the same twice.
“Are there…responsibilities I should tend to?” I ask, somewhat hopefully. The lady of the house typically has an endless list of tasks, but do queens?
I still can’t believe I’m putting myself in that category. It feels like a dream I’m bound to wake up from at any moment.
“Responsibilities?” Morwen echoes.
“Duties. Tasks. What did the former queen do in her daily life?”
I get the full force of Morwen’s ‘you don’t belong here’ look, and bristle. It’s not my fault I don’t know things, she doesn’t have to be rude about it.
“The last time Crownwood had a queen, its roots were still breaking new ground. In most reaches, the queen would sit at the king’s side in court, host dinners and balls—”
“What do you mean in most reaches? Is Emerald different from the others?”
“Not Emerald. Its king. His Majesty has not seen fit to conduct any such events. With the exception of your Presentation,” she adds with a tone I can’t read. Does she resent the lack of parties? Or is she glad the so-called conquering general isn’t putting himself in front of the public more than necessary? Maybe something else altogether. There’s a lot more going on here than I first realized.
For one, Xandril hasn’t been king long. I should’ve figured as much when told the throne hasn’t accepted him, but it’s only now starting to sink in. He’s probably as clueless about a lot of this as I am.
“Do you know why? If it’s a matter of planning and organization, perhaps it’s a project I could take on.” If Morwenis to be my one source of information in this world, I want to get whatever I can.
The demoness presses her lips together, looking away to pick a speck of non-existent lint from a hanging cloak.
“It’s more than that, but I shouldn’t gossip about the king,” she says, carefully neutral.
I guess I won’t be getting much information out of her afterall. Maybe I just need to warm her up first.
“So, not the typical things, then,” I say, sitting dramatically on the edge of my bed. “WhatcanI do to make myself useful? And don’t give me that look, please.”
Morwen quickly scrubs her expression, but there’s no hiding the confusion in her voice. “Useful? I’m not sure I understand. You’re free to use your leisure time as you wish—there are libraries, stables, grounds to venture, though they’re in quite a state these days…”
