The Godspriest removed the beads from their hands, granting blessings from each of the gods. Then, finally, their hands no longer burdened with the strands, the man announced them husband and wife.
Teryn’s heart thundered against his ribs as he reached for Cora. He wasn’t even certain the Godspriest had stated they could kiss, but he didn’t care. He framed her face in his hands, and her arms wound around his waist. Their lips met in a firm yet tender kiss. How badly he wanted to deepen it, to sweep his tongue against hers, to steal her breath and give her his in return, but he settled on a prolonged meeting of their mouths. A silent reiteration of everything he’d conveyed in his vows.
When they eventually pulled apart, he found Cora’s cheeks were wet and her smile was wide. “I love you,” she whispered, the sound drowned by the audience’s applause.
Those words would wreck him until the end of time. He’d never tire of hearing them. He nearly bent in for another kiss when a shadow fell over Cora’s face. Cora froze, and the Godskeep fully darkened. The room was already dim enough, lit only by the few narrow windows lining the nave, but it was as if the curtains had been closed over them all at once.
Just as fast as the shadow had fallen, it was gone. Silence echoed in the room, punctuated by startled gasps. Teryn and Cora exchanged a questioning glance. That hadn’t seemed like a natural shadow. It had moved too fast to be a cloud covering the sun, and the sky had been overcast when he’d entered the Godskeep earlier. What the seven devils had caused that shadow?
In answer came a piercing screech that shattered the air.
17
Mareleau jolted awake at…something. Had it been a sound? Had Noah cried? A glance at the bassinet beside her bed told her he was still asleep. With a sigh, she rolled back onto her pillows. She hadn’t been dozing for long, as she’d only begun her nap after Noah had fallen asleep. Now that she was awake, a plethora of unwelcome feelings settled over her. Unending fatigue. Bitterness at being excluded from her best friend’s wedding. Ever-darkening resentment over the prophecy. Anger at not being able to leave her room.
“Did you hear that?” her mother asked as she swept into her bedroom from the sitting room.
“Hear what?”
Brow furrowed, Helena approached one of the windows and peered out. “I thought I heard something. An animal, perhaps.”
Now that she thought about it, she had startled awake at something. “It was probably just a bear in the woods.”
The words dried on her tongue as soon as she said them. They reminded her too much of when she’d said nearly the same thing before she came face to face with Morkai’s monstrous Roizan. A creature that wore her father’s face…
“This place isn’t suitable for you and Noah,” Helena said, scowling at the landscape.
Mareleau said nothing in Ridine’s defense. After being stuck in her suite over the last few days, she was starting to regret every kind word she’d said about the castle, every way in which she’d defended it to her mother. It was starting to look much like it had when she’d arrived last summer, dreary and sinister despite its new furnishings. Even her emotions harkened back to how she’d felt then.
Useless.
Helpless.
A pawn on a game board.
This time, instead of her father moving the pieces, it was fate.
Destiny.
Her faceless nemesis.
She clenched her jaw at her own futility. If only she had someone corporeal to rail at, to rebel against, then perhaps she wouldn’t feel this crushing weight on her chest—
A soft cry emptied her mind. Tenderness softened her edges as she rose from the bed and greeted her awakening son. Just looking at him reminded her she wasn’t useless. She had a purpose. Fate be damned, her purpose was to raise her son.
For what? For whom?some part of her taunted, forcing her to confront the fact that the prophecy wanted Noah to be some destined king of the Elvyn. Their Morkara.
She internally scoffed. If fate wanted her son, it would have to go through her first. It would have to greet her face to face and drag her and Noah onto their destined path.
Mareleau would not be weak. She would not give in to her darker emotions or the ones that made her feel small. She’d stand tall and proud and remember that she’d gotten everything she’d wanted through her own means, and she’d do it again.
A smile curled her lips as she lifted her son from his bassinet. At the feel of him in her arms, a warm yet tender fire filled every part of her. It was enough to burn away the dregs of jealousy over Larylis attending the wedding without her. At least they could leave once it was over and all the guests had departed.
She bounced Noah in her arms and brought her face close to his. “I can’t wait to bring you home,” she said in a sing-song voice. A tone she never would have imagined using in the past.
“I still don’t understand why we didn’t leave with your ladies and midwives,” Helena said, eying Mareleau with a questioning glance. “If there’s a spy here, wouldn’t it be safest if we’d left?”
Mareleau pursed her lips. Teryn had come up with a lie to keep Helena quiet, telling her they suspected a spy from Norun may have infiltrated the castle with one of their guests to attend the ceremony. According to his story, it wouldn’t be safe to admit Noah had been born here, in case the spy sought revenge on Vera for the death of Prince Helios. Mareleau had done nothing to refute Teryn’s tale, for only the truth would suffice, and she wasn’t ready to give it.
