My mother squeezed Ari’s arm in thanks before the fae king went to find his own family.
She took my hand. “I have no more words to offer, just make certain you do this for the right reasons, Jonas.”
I wrapped my arms around her slender shoulders. My mother was fierce and gentle, as cunning as my father, but she was not so reluctant to reveal her tenderness. “I don’t know what else to tell you. I know this is my mark.”
“This is your life, not a heist.”
I stepped back. “You both taught us how to feel out a step in a plan and never act until you knew the move was sure. This is not a scheme, but it is what I feel is the right move to take.”
A head shorter than me, my mother had to tilt her chin to meet my gaze. “Then we stand at your back and follow your lead. You have us.”
Sander leaned against the wall, flipping through a thin book that looked like short tales of elven lore. “Mira insists she’s never going to forgive you for choosing me to stand at your shoulder.”
“As much as I love my Mira, I refuse to stand through this day without my brother.” I nudged his ribs. “We share such a similar face, perhaps we can swap if I become a coward.”
Sander scoffed, but there was a shadow of words unsaid in his gaze. Like he might want to offer to take my place.
Wouldn’t happen. I had vowed to defend the fae lands, sealed in a spell cast, and I would be the one to see it through today.
I adjusted the polished leather belt around my waist. Everything was finely made from my tunic to the laces on my boots. The title of prince was mine by birth, but my upbringing was hardly regal, not the way I was certain my bride was raised.
Unwelcome apprehension needled into my belly like barbed rope. Would she be miserable in such a court?
Back home, finery was overlooked, prestige and propriety were dull, and I misplaced my official crown over two turns ago. I rarely looked like a prince and never thought much of it until now a woman I was forcing into our world might find it all . . . awful.
“Where are your thoughts?” Sander stepped in front of me, a furrow to his brow.
I forced a smile and patted his cheek, too rough, as we always did. “With the elven wine. I’ve heard a great deal about its taste and potency. Let us hope old Eldirard has overindulged tonight.”
Sander slapped the book closed and tucked it under one arm. “I will stand at your side today. Although, after it’s over, I have things I’ve been learning about the elven folk and?—”
“Later.” I shoved his head. “Gods, can younotread about something for one day.”
“That would be an awful day.” He pounded his fist against my shoulder, took my mother’s arm, and left me with my father.
Silence was thick and potent. At long last, I squared to him. “Daj, I never wanted to disappoint you.”
“You never have.” His voice was the low, dark rasp that once told me tales until I fell asleep as a boy. He blinked, clearing his eyes of the darkness of his mesmer and stood so our chests touched. “But hear me—you’ll be faithful, Jonas. Don’t you dare dishonor your wife. She is your choice, no matter what has brought you together. You will respect her as that choice, understand me?”
Good hells, there was a desperation buried in Kase Eriksson’s tone I’d never heard before. “Daj, this isn’t exactly a traditional vow. She may never allow me to touch her.”
“I suppose that is a problem you’ll need to solve.” He cupped the back of my head and drew my brow to his. “You do make me proud. Now meet your mark; I will see you out there.”
Chapter 9
The Mist Thief
The last timeI was in the festival courtyard, blood and smoke filled the air. Half the trees were burning along the portions of the towers. With the way the courtyard had been dressed for the vows, I would never guess battles were fought not so long ago.
Walls made of polished black stones were draped in blue and silver satins with the seal of the shadow elven clan. Natthaven used a rune meaning wisdom and honor wrapped in black ribbons settled over the top of crossed arrows. Iron sconces held black candles to light the yard when dark fell.
Sunlight broke across the stones, threading skeins of gold and red over the pale woven rugs that were arranged between long, moss coated benches where folk were seated.
In the front row, Princess Mira and Celine were seated with other heirs and noble sea fae. I recognized some faces from the sea fae palace and the battle. Folk who came against us with blades now were arranged and prepared to watch one of their beloved princes vow with an enemy.
My grandfather was seated atop a dais draped in black satin.
His beringed fingers curled over the clawed arms of his seat. Twoguards held silver spears. Dorsan was on Grandfather’s left. Stoic and unreadable.
