The more I paid attention to the terms of the vow contract, the more I felt like a fiend to my future bride. Terms like, no beatings that caused permanent damage, no refusals were allowed should I come to my wife for her body. I named all future littles; I approved of her hobbies and travel.
There were a few conditions on me. The vows were to be held on Natthaven, but we would live in my kingdom for ten turns, giving my new wife the opportunity to learn her husband’s culture. Then, the next ten would be spent in her realms (alone or with me) for her studies to be a queen of elven.
For the first turn, we would slip into the shared lands by spending one week on the elven isle where I would be expected to report to the Dokkalfar king of my approval or disapproval of the alliance, then, the rest of the month was spent in alver lands.
I was not permitted to ignore her completely. Every full moon we were required to share a bed from dusk until dawn—for the best chance of providing Natthaven with an heir, of course—and I was to give my wife an allowance she could spend at her leisure.
What a grand alliance she was making. It was no wonder her eyes were dull and emotionless.
My shoulders slumped, each term a lash on my spine. Of the two parties, it was not me who sacrificed here.
All I wanted was safety for my people.
For the first time I considered my good intent might have caused more of a disaster in this woman’s life. Then again, the same terms would be offered up to that light elven sod. He would likely hold her to each one.
When my mother finished, she rolled the scroll again, and slid it to the center of the table.
“Perhaps the king would like to read now,” Eldirard said.
“My wife read it.” Daj narrowed his gaze. “What more could I learn?”
“To ensure nothing was missed.”
“Do you think she is incompetent?”
Gods, Daj’s temper was flaring. Insult my mother and he was prone to bones and blood.
“Of course not, but . . . well, you are the king.” Eldirard straightened.
A haze of black clouded over my father’s eyes. Much like mine could blot out until nothing but darkness coated my gaze, so could my father.
He pointed a finger at the poised elven king. “There’s something you should understand, the only reason I have my title is because I amherhusband. She is the blood heir of our lands, and you will stop speaking down to her, or you will not leave this room in one piece.”
“Daj, we’re trying to stop bloodshed,” Sander muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched, holding back a grin.
“Are you able to acceptthose terms?” Daj cocked his head. “I do not know what kings are like in your land, but in ours, we do not silence our queens.”
On the dais, Livia grinned with affection toward my father. She’d been raised much the same. It was all we’d known—fathers who loved our mothers—and a strange wash of shame and pride collided like a barbed knot in my chest.
Pride was in no short supply for the way my father treated my mother, the way he taught us to treat her. Yet, I’d arrived here with dismissive thoughts toward a woman I planned to give the same title—my wife.
“I accept.” Eldirard sniffed. “Who will be signing? It will require a drop of blood.”
Both my parents removed their hands and pulled away, their silent protest that they did not agree with any notion of an arranged vow.
Silence fell over the table until the weight of it bent my spine. This was the moment I planned for and dreaded, all at once.
Thoughts whirled, but no matter which direction they took, it all came back to the fact—Princess Skadinia had powerful magic. It would be used with abandon by the wicked sod of a prince should the shadow elven clan fall under his rule.
I stole a look at Livia. She returned it with concern, but understanding.
The Ever Queen knew I felt compelled to do this. There wasn’t a better way.
I swallowed and steadied my hand. With a prick of my knife I pressed my fingertip to the parchment, adding a drop of blood to the corner, and picked up a gray goose quill. “I will sign.”
My mother and father abandoned the hall the moment my blood soaked into the parchment, taking with them those who’d come to gawk at their prince as he bound himself to one woman.
The princess was taken away in the next breath by a frenzied elven woman with eyes paler than a winter frost. Only Sander, Bloodsinger, and Livia remained with me and the elven king.
