If Aspen had my true name, I’d be under his control with no free will of my own. My stomach churns at the thought.
“Promise me you won’t do it.”
“Trust me, I’ll do whatever I can to avoid it.” Even if it means my death, I don’t add. Before he can say anything else to make me linger, I open the door and step into the hall. As I return to my room, all I can think about is Cobalt’s crushed expression when I turned him down. I had no other choice. We’d never be able to survive Aspen’s wrath.
I have to protect him. Protect Eisleigh.
I have to marry a monster.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Icount the days until the mate ceremony with numb awareness, stumbling in a daze, going through the motions. It feels like wading through mud, each day a struggle to get through. Most of the time, I try to turn off my emotions, following logic instead. Eat. Breathe. Do as I’m told.
Four.
I tolerate dress fittings with Lorelei, give half-hearted answers to Foxglove’s questions about requested foods for the celebratory feast that follows the ceremony. He takes me through the steps of some strange dance I’m supposed to perform with the king. I learn it, memorize it, but I feel like I’m hardly there.
Three.
Foxglove says something about ribbons and masks. I nod, but the ribbons remind me too much of Amelie. She always loved pretty ribbons. I turn away from him to stare out the window for a while. That night I dream about seawater filling my lungs, of my sister calling my name as waves drag her into the coral caves.
Two.
When I wake, I force my pain to subside, put on my mask of calm. Try not to think of Amelie. More dress fittings. More masks and ribbons. Another round of practice for the dance.
One.
When the day arrives, I stand before my mirror, staring at the stranger in front of me. She wears my face, lips covered in a deep burgundy rouge, cheeks powdered a rosy blush. A russet-gold dusts my eyelids and lines my lower lashes, along with some rich browns and yellows. The makeup distracts from the dark circles I know lie beneath, and helps cover the ghostly pallor I’ve adopted as of late.
My eyes rove over my dress, a flowing gown of pale blue spider silk dotted with white pearls. The skirt is layered with a sheer fabric stitched with silk leaves in the same pale blue and flutters with every move I make. The colors on my face and dress bring to mind autumn leaves falling through a clear midday sky. To someone else, this would be a dream dress. To me, it’s a nightmare.
It reminds me too much of a wedding gown.
Even though I know the mate ceremony isn’t an actual wedding, it still makes my stomach churn. The way Foxglove explained it, the mate ceremony is a way for Aspen and me to present ourselves as a couple—mates. The first step in securing the alliance. The final step is our wedding ceremony. That will occur in just over two weeks.
I shudder.
“You look beautiful,” Foxglove says, fixing a loose strand of auburn hair into place.
“He’s right,” Lorelei says. “There’s no doubt you’re the Queen of the Autumn Court.”
Her words send a chill down my spine. Queen. I still haven’t gotten used to the idea that I’m going to be a queen after we’re married.
“Now for the final touches.” Foxglove reaches for an elaborate mask from my dressing table and steps behind me to secure it over my eyes. It only covers the top portion of my face above my nose, but the embellishments adorning the top make the mask appear much larger than it is, creating a halo of robin feathers and golden leaves overhead. The mask itself is made of bronze, carved with elegant swirling patterns and decorated with pearls.
Next, Foxglove grabs a handful of long ribbons, motioning for me to raise my arms. He explained the ribbon part of the ceremony to me, but I’d only been half listening. Something about a ribbon representing each element, and how we’ll have to untie them from each other. Foxglove ties the first—a red ribbon—around my hips, then a yellow one around my waist, a green one around my chest, and a blue one around my head and the mask. The bow of the final ribbon hangs slightly into my line of vision as it dangles from my brow.
“There,” Foxglove says, admiring his work. He looks pleased, but I feel like a gaudy present as I look at my reflection.
“It’s time,” says a voice from the other side of my room. I find Cobalt hovering in my doorway. He wears a simple blue mask, lips pressed into a tight line. A pang of sadness tugs at my heart as I meet his gaze, but I quickly release it. I can’t let myself consider regrets. No what-ifs. “Are you ready?” he asks.
“I suppose so,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. I’m determined neither to fake joy nor reveal distress. I shall be calm. Composed.
Cobalt enters my room and meets me at the mirror. “I’ll walk you,” he says, extending his arm.
I hesitate, wondering if it’s smart to walk with him. Then again, if Aspen didn’t come to take me himself, perhaps he doesn’t care. Without a second thought, I place my hand at his elbow and we leave my room. The halls are quiet and nearly empty, with most servants and guards congregating higher in the palace near the topmost balcony where the ceremony will take place.
Foxglove and Lorelei follow behind me and Cobalt as we make our way through the halls and up the stairs. We pass the landing that leads to the formal dining room, then climb another set of stairs even higher. Too soon, the sound of voices falls upon my ears. We come to the bottom of a final staircase that ends in bright sky overhead.
