Mage Marna turned from the window. “Yes. That is true. Aleth and I came to the same agreement.” She gave a wary pause before adding, “We’re going to release Rangar this morning, but with the caveat that he cannot be in a room alone with either of you. Trei, his temper could get the better of him, and he could very well assault you again. And Bryn, though I doubt he would ever harm you, there are . . . other things . . . he could attempt in a private room that would be just as detrimental to the kingdoms.”
Bryn’s eyes widened. She understood perfectly well. They were afraid Rangar would attempt to seduce her into leaving Trei, perhaps even running away with him. Even a passionate embrace with the future queen would be grounds for treason.
Mage Marna stated, “Soldiers will accompany you wherever you go, Bryn, to ensure Rangar keeps his hands to himself.”
Bryn groaned inwardly. Mage Marna hadn’t suggested that Bryn might also commit adultery with Rangar, which was asmall kindness, but Bryn certainly felt she was as much on trial here as Rangar.
As much as she wanted to object more, it was useless. “I understand.”
Mage Marna squeezed her hands together against the cold. “Good. Now, I’ll speak to Calista and Ren. They’re the only ones with the aura hex in the castle. It would be wise for you two to get dressed. Now that riders have been sent out with the, ahem,good news, there is a long receiving line forming in the great hall. Villagers who want to meet their future king and queen. I suspect the line will only grow as the day continues.”
Bryn and Treisat at the great hall’s head table for several excruciating hours, handing out maiden roses to the long line of common folk who had traveled to meet them and bless their union. She was heartened to see every one of the Mir refugees at the head of the line, giving her Mir blessings and expressing their anxious excitement to discuss the future of their kingdom.
By the time late afternoon came, and Bryn’s legs had gone numb from sitting, a stir came from the direction of the courtyard. She sat straighter, searching the long line until she saw a familiar figure stride in.
Her stomach plummeted.
She leaned close to Trei and whispered, “Rangar is here.”
Rangar was flanked by two of the most enormous soldiers Bryn had ever seen. They were absolute hulks of men, the only ones strong enough to restrain Rangar if necessary. From Rangar’s tense posture, it was clear the soldiers had been a requirement of his release from the tower cell.
As soon as the common folk spotted Rangar, they quickly moved aside, willing to give up their place in line either out of respect for the prince or a salacious desire to witness the drama that was about to ensue.
Rangar slowly sauntered up to the head table. The soldiers stopped behind him and rested hands on their swords in a warning.
Bryn felt the breath leave her lungs.
He said nothing at first. Instead, he took his time looking over the baskets full of maiden roses with a guarded expression. A memory flooded Bryn of Rangar taking her to see the roses and assuring her that she would adapt to the harsh land just like them.
“Rangar.” Trei nodded slowly, cautiously. “I assume you’ve come to pay your respects.” His tone was stiff, and the message was clear: now, in public, was not the time to get into another skirmish.
Bryn felt terribly torn: Part of her wanted to disappear into her chair and escape Rangar’s pained, wrathful look. But another part was desperate to be close to him again. She curled her hands around her chair arm and squeezed tightly. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her chest.
“Not exactly the words I had in mind, brother,” Rangar replied through a clenched jaw. “But seeing as these soldiers are prepared to separate my head from my body if I don’t behave, I suppose I can’t tell you what Ireallywant to say.”
Bryn couldn’t stand the animosity between the two brothers. She leaned forward, looking up at Rangar through her lashes, and whispered fiercely, “Rangar, please. We didn’t have a choice.”
His eyes snapped to hers. She jolted upright. When he’d arrived at the wedding feast the day before, he’d barely been able to bring himself to look at her. He’d focused all his rage on Treiinstead. But he wasn’t avoiding her gaze now. Now, she saw his raw pain and realized he hadn’t been ignoring her out of spite; he was terrified that she might have done this willingly.
“King Aleth and Mage Marna explained the succession rules to us,” she said slowly, keeping her voice low in an attempt to keep gossip to a minimum. “Both kingdoms would suffer greatly unless the crown heirs were united. Trei and I . . . neither of us wanted this. We didn’t want to hurt you—”
“Stop, Bryn.” Rangar’s jaw was squeezed tightly. His hands curled into fists by his side. “I don’t want your pity.”
“It isn’t pity—”
“Stop.” His jaw worked as though he had more to say, but the soldiers were right behind him as well as hundreds of listening ears eager for rumors. He leaned across the table and muttered lowly, “This isn’t even remotely close to being over. So don’t get too comfortable in your new roles as husband and wife.”
“Is that a threat?” Trei asked testily.
The soldiers adjusted their stance, preparing to intercede.
Rangar gave a mirthless laugh. In a louder voice meant to be overheard, he said condescendingly, “Congratulations to the both of you.”
He turned and strode away, the soldiers following.
Bryn realized she’d been holding her breath. She let it out in a rush as she slumped back in the chair.
Trei rested a hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”
