Bryn gazed down at Rangar’s ring on her finger, knowing she’d soon have to take it off.Even though I’m not ready to. I'llneverbe ready to.
She said quietly, “I don’t see the point in making it a grand affair. If I must go through with this wedding, can’t Trei and I simply be married by a vicar in the courtyard with the family as witnesses?”
A shadow crossed over Mage Marna’s face. Her lips pressed together tightly before she admitted, “There is much unease in the Eyrie; it won’t do if you look miserable as our two kingdoms unite, or worse, if you and Trei marry in secret as though it’s a scandal. That is why we are doing what we can to portray this as a joyous occasion to convince our two populaces to accept and celebrate the change. While I have sympathy for your situation, you still must present yourself as a happy bride. Do you understand?”
Bryn ran a hand over her face, trying to ease the ache that was beginning at her temples. “I do. I don’t like it, but I do.”
She expected the mage to leave, but instead, Mage Marna went to the narrow bedroom window and looked out over the ocean. When she spoke again, her voice had lowered.
“I know you have your own difficult feelings about this marriage, but I think we should consider what will happen when Rangar returns. My nephew has always been prone to a rageful temper." The mage knit her fingers together, troubled. “King Aleth has already vowed that if Rangar attempts to invalidate the marriage or . . . or engages in any form of adultery that could jeopardize the marriage’s legitimacy, Rangar will be thrown in the dungeon until his temper cools. It would be best if you keep your distance from him when he does return. Don’t speak with him, especially not in private.”
Bryn felt a flush of indignation at the mage’s words. “If you’re implying that I might be unfaithful to Trei, I take offense at that.”
“I know my nephew,” Mage Marna said, finally facing her. “Rangar can be forceful when he doesn’t get his way. I only want to prepare you.”
The firm set of the mage’s mouth softened, and she gently touched Bryn’s face. “You have a good heart, Lady Bryn. I doubt your parents would have made the sacrifice you are making. Giving up love takes courage. You will be an effective ruler for your people.”
Her hand fell away from Bryn’s cheek, but instead of leaving, she touched the small hexmark on Bryn's ear.
Dropping her voice, the mage added, “You also show promise as an apprentice. I know the Mir people abhor magic, but you have the potential to be a new type of ruler. You could usher in an era where magic is accepted alongside science in your kingdom.” She let her hand fall from Bryn's ear. “Something to think about.”
Bryn’s eyes widened. It was a bold—even treasonous—suggestion.
After they were finished, Bryn got some bread from the kitchen as a meager breakfast, avoiding all the excited questions that the servants peppered her with about the wedding, and tried to escape the gossip and curious looks by leaving Barendur Hold. She’d planned on taking a walk to clear her head, but she was surprised when the gate guards stopped her.
“Sorry, my lady. We can’t let you through.”
“I just want to go to the pastures,” she said, motioning to the hills beyond the castle. “Only for a few moments of fresh air.”
One of the guards shook his head forcefully. “King Aleth’s orders. You’re to remain within Barendur Hold until after the wedding. No exceptions. It’s for your own safety.”
Bryn balked. It was true that Captain Carr, the current usurper of the Mir throne, had likely sent spies and perhaps even assassins after her, so she couldn’t deny that Aleth’s order made sense. Sheshouldn’tbe leaving the safety of the castle. But it was hard not to feel like a hostage.
Back inside, the castle walls began to close in on her. Everyone she passed wanted to congratulate her on the upcoming marriage, their eyes gleaming with unspoken curiosity.
They know I’m in love with Rangar,she thought to herself.They’re wondering if I'll go through with this…and what will happen when Rangar returns.
Finally, desperate for fresh air and privacy, she climbed the tower stairs and stepped out onto the castle’s flat roof. A pair of sentries sat around the beacon fire in the far corner, but they barely glanced her way as she hurried to the opposite corner, where she’d long ago discovered an abandoned pigeon house. It was the closest thing she’d had to a private space before Mage Marna had given her a room in the mage chambers.
Within the crumbling walls of the old pigeon shed, she wrapped her shawl tight and gazed out at the vast ocean.
The expansive water was broken only by some distant, uninhabited islands and a few fishing vessels. She forced herself to draw in slow, steady breaths to calm her racing heart. The ocean had always been a calming presence, and it didn’t fail her now. Though storm clouds on the horizon threatened rain, staring out at the endless stretch of water eased the thorniest of her fears.
I am the crown heir and must do what is right for my kingdom, she reminded herself.I must marry Trei. Hard as it will be, I must forget about Rangar.
But how? How to deny the love she felt? A love that twisted her up inside and left her breathless? That was easier said thandone. Even now, her heart ached for Rangar, as did the base of her belly whenever she thought of his touch. His kisses made her feel lightheaded, the stuff written about in fairy tales, stirring sensations she’d never felt . . .
A sudden flapping of wings tore her from her thoughts. A huge bird—far too large to be a pigeon—glided down from the sky, sharp talons outstretched. Bryn shrieked and ducked, covering her head with her hands. She instantly feared this was some trick of Captain Carr, a bird trained to pluck out her eyes . . .
But the bird landed gracefully on one of the old pigeon roosts and stilled. When Bryn got up the nerve to peek through her fingers at it, she was surprised.
“Zephyr?” she said, stiffening with recognition.
The falcon cocked its head at her. Zephyr was never apart from Saraj for very long, and Bryn was just starting to worry if something had happened to the falconer when she heard footsteps outside the pigeon shed.
“Bryn.” It was Saraj’s unmistakable voice. “Come out of there. We need to talk.”
Bryn cringed. Her heartbeat began to pick up again. Sweat dampened her palms. Saraj was the closest thing she had to a friend in the Baersladen. The falconer had been kind to her, letting her borrow clothes and giving her sisterly advice.
