BRIONY
My family is exactly how I left them. Before I sought out Thorne to coerce him into joining our bargain, I aided the palace servants in ensuring my family could rest as comfortably as possible. Where they once were strewn in deathlike poses, bodies slumped, hands empty, they now lay on makeshift cots, each pair of hands resting over their abdomens. As for Uncle Bobbins, the featherless rooster—a lidérc, mother had said—he simply lays on his side upon the now-clean table.
I circle the sleeping bodies, noting that their current positions aren’t any less chilling than they’d been when haphazardly sprawled. At least this will provide a much more comfortable waking.
If they ever awaken.
If it isn’t already too late.
I settle upon the floor near the head of the table where my parents’ cots rest side by side. Gingerly, I reach for each of their hands, settling my palms over flesh that is neither warm nor cold. My eyes sweep over my father’s form, then my mother’s. I can’t help remembering the joy of our first meeting. My mother’s enthusiasm and nonstop chatter. My father’s shy grin and pats on the head. I’ve since learned darker facts about my family, but there remains a deep well of affection for them. One that weighs heavy with grief.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper to them, voice trembling. “I couldn’t save your throne.”
Only silence echoes back. There’s not a hint of breath stirring the air. No thudding heartbeat but my own. Not even the servants standing guard outside the closed dining room doors make any noise, which leaves my apology ringing empty. Unheard. Hollow.
I study my mother’s round cheeks, too pale in her slumber. I remember the warmth of her arms, the giddy excitement in her letter. My heart sinks as I recall the words that once filled me with so much pride. So much conviction.
You’re the Briar family hero.
My marriage to Monty meant so much to her and my father. While I can’t regret the choice I made, I do dread their disapproval once they find out I rejected him. Because they will find out. They will awaken. I’ll make sure of it. Thorne and I will find a way. Even if they wake without a throne or a marriage alliance and with a mountain of debt. Even if they wake, remembering me as a traitor, a weapon wielded by the enemy. They will, at the very least, awaken.
I’ll need to be satisfied with that.
The question is…will that be enough for my family too?
The same terror I felt earlier after I rejected Monty returns, screaming in my mind.What have I done? What have I done?
I chose myself, I tell the voice.
I deserve to choose myself.
The reminder only softens my sorrow the slightest bit. I suppose it will take time to come to terms with all of this. “I’m sorry,” I say again, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I can’t be the hero you wanted me to be.”
“You can.” Thorne’s voice has my heart leaping out of my chest. I hadn’t heard his approach, but I find him emerging from a partially open door—likely from the servants’ hall. He’s still in his unseelie form, his horns visible, his wings folded against his back. His expression is hard, lips pursed in a tight line. He extends a hand to me. “Come. We’re going to find Monty. Let’s settle our bargain.”
I frown at his open hand. “What are you talking about?”
“We are going to find Monty right this minute. I will drag him by the ear to a twenty-four-hour chapel if I must.”
“No, Thorne,” I say, rising to my feet without the aid of his extended palm. I’m too afraid if I take it, he’ll whisk me away before I’ve had the chance to explain. I wanted to tell him in a different way. A heartfelt way. But my earlier attempt was thwarted by Mr. Boris’ news. “We aren’t getting married. I never finished telling you, but I…I lost the game. On purpose. I rejected him. It’s over—”
“It’s not over. I won’t give him a choice.”
I narrow my eyes. Why isn’t he listening? “It’s. Over,” I say punctuating each word. “It’s over because I chose for it to be. We aren’t completing our bargain. I will not marry him.”
Thorne’s expression breaks, a tormented edge pulling at his lips and the corners of his eyes. “This is your last chance to wake your family before Trentas takes their throne.”
“I thought you wanted him to take the throne,” I say, regretting the bitter note that creeps into my voice.
He runs a hand over his face. “I do, but not like this. Not in a way that compromises your standing with your family.”
“We’ll find another way to wake them,” I say.
“No, you were right from the start. This is the only way you get everything you want.”
Anger laces through me. “You’re wrong. This isn’t everything I want. And why do you keep talking about our bargain and how it benefitsme? Why are you focused on what you think I want? Do your wants not matter? Or do youwantme to marry Monty?”
“No,” he says through his teeth. “Every part of me recoils—rages—at the thought of you together. There is nothing I want less than that. Which is why our bargain still stands to succeed—”
