Helna beamed at her. “What a beautiful bride you make, Lady Bryn. Trei won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” The smile faltered on the older woman’s face. She sighed deeply. “If Rangar were here . . . ”
But she quickly shut her mouth and turned away, knowing she’d said too much.
Bryn pretended she hadn’t heard, though she knew everyone in the castle was gossiping about the same thing: The Mir princess marrying the wrong brother. King Aleth and Mage Marna had been careful to keep the wedding announcement brief so that gossip wouldn’t have time to spread to Rangar on the borderlands, but all the castle residents and villagers knew. Though they were all smiles and words of congratulations to her face, Bryn suspected all anyone could talk about was what a terrible mess it would be when Rangar returned.
Wiping her hands of chalk, Helna glanced out the window and frowned at the sky. “Wish this rain would stop, but it won’t be the first time a bride marries in a storm. Ah, look at that—people are already starting to arrive.”
Bryn peered out the window at the village square beyond. A few dozen villagers huddled together under makeshift tents that had been erected, or hunkered beneath their cloaks. The sky was too grey for her to see the sun, but judging by the pinkish cast to the clouds, she guessed it was almost sunset.
A knock on the door made her spin sharply. To her surprise, Valenden stood in the doorway.
His eyes raked down her body in the wedding gown then took their time making their way back up to her face. He gave a lowwhistle before saying, “It’s time. The rest of my family is already gathered in the great hall. They sent me to fetch you. Because of the weather, they don’t want to start the ceremony until the last possible moment.”
“Of course,” she said in a hollow voice.
Valenden continued to evaluate her, his gaze now fixing on her elegantly braided blond hair. His jaw tightened.
She cocked her head at him. “What is it, Val?”
His eyes flickered to Helna, who was cleaning up scraps near her worktable. He stepped closer to Bryn and lowered his voice so the seamstress wouldn’t overhear. “I’m thinking that this wedding is the worst idea my father ever had.”
Alarm shot through Bryn as she hissed back, “There’s no other way. It isn’t your father’s fault. He only suggested this course of action—he isn’t forcing me into this.”
When Valenden remained silent, she grew warm and insisted, “You think Iwantto break Rangar’s heart? What am I supposed to do? It’s either protect his heart or save my entire kingdom.”
“He saved your life.”
“And I saved his, thanks to your little poisoning prank! Rangar and I are even when it comes to that. We’re both bound to thefralenbond.” She paused, resting her hands on her hips, feeling heat blooming in her cheeks. “Why are you so loyal to Rangar now when you certainly weren’t that night in the woods?”
She looked at him pointedly.
Valenden dragged his head back and forth as he raked his nails through his hair. He looked like he was on the verge of telling her again that it was wrong to marry Trei, but then he clamped his jaw shut and said, “I’ll take you downstairs.”
The guards escorted them to the great hall, which had been lit by extra candles to give it a magical glow. The giant doorswere thrown open to the drawbridge spanning the moat. Rain fell in a heavy sheet outside, dousing Bryn’s mood.
Mage Marna waited at the door with more guards. When she saw Bryn, she shook out a woolen cloak and gently set it over Bryn’s hair and gown.
“The weather doesn’t want to cooperate, but unfortunately, we dare not postpone. Tradition decrees you be married at sunset beneath the open sky. We’ll keep the ceremony short, then bring the celebrations inside for the feast.”
Bryn’s stomach was doing flips. Squinting through the rain, she saw several cloaked figures on the stage. She recognized King Aleth’s hulking shoulders and Trei’s imposing height. Searching the crowd, she finally spotted Saraj in the second row, cloak pulled up over her head against the rain. She also took note of a small group of people off to the side and was surprised to recognize the Mir refugee group. It was no shock to see Mam Delice there, but she also recognized Alain.
My people are watching—I must be brave.
“Are you ready?” Mage Marna asked.
Bryn couldn’t help but throw Valenden one more look, almost daring—wanting—him to talk her out of it, but he refused to look at her.
Instead, she only gave a small nod.Think of the Mirien.
Mage Marna held out her arm to escort Bryn. Bryn took it shakily, feeling like someone else was in control of her body. As they stepped out of the shelter of the great hall into the rain, her whole body went numb. Her feet carried her through the mud as though she was half asleep.
Surely this isn’tmemarrying Prince Trei of the Baersladen. This must be a dream.
But the pounding rain made it all too real. Even with the cloak hooding her, dampness ruined her intricate hairstyle.Helna’s gorgeous dress was already streaked in mud along the hem.
As though dazed, Bryn clutched Mage Marna’s arm as they crossed to the stage and mounted the few steps.
Each of the men present acknowledged her with a nod: King Aleth, his thick beard hiding half his face; the vicar, a tall man in a black cassock; and Trei.
