I pause. A distant memory surfaces, demanding recognition. I stalk towards the bookshelf, scanning the spines. There—a small blue leather-bound volume I remember Kiernan bringing to me, questioning the Marriage Bond, unable to read the Ancient Fae text. As I scan its pages, hope kindles in my chest, cold and sharp as a winter dawn. I smile to myself. He missed the most crucial part, useless, uneducated idiot.
All is not lost.
I snap the book shut.
“Oh, and Samil—my condolences on the death of your wife. A regrettable casualty. We shall find you another soon enough. A warm body is easily replaced.”
Chapter Fifteen
Alaya
“Hold still, My Lady,” Saleen says in a silky voice as she makes some alterations to my dress. I struggle to concentrate; the whirl of emotions spinning so fast within me makes me dizzy with apprehension.
Today is my wedding day. For over ten years, I have known this day would come, have railed and fought against it, and have lost myself in hiding behind those crumbled walls. Where I was safe, where my heart was protected from the heartache of my past and my vengeance was clear.
Brick by brick, he has torn down that wall and claimed me.
I have opened myself up to the hurt and the pain that comes with that, allowed myself to become complacent about my still precarious position at this Court. He cannot protect me from the King, a Fae of such immense power and so consumed by his own vengeance that he has descended into maniacal madness. A madness that, in the blink of an eye, could have destroyed me. A sobering thought.
Soon, the last vestiges of Alaya Morigan—daughter, captive, survivor—will be a distant memory, that last sliver of myself blown away on the breeze. I will be reborn as Alaya Steel—Princess, wife, and future Queen. And despite the uncertainty, I give myself over to it completely. For him.
I love him.
Every imperfect part. A tongue that can bite, yet speaks so sweetly to me, fingers that curl in temper, then dance so softly upon my skin. A love that consumes with both passion and possession.
Let the fates do their worst—they will find us woven together, a knot that cannot be broken.
“There.” Saleen finally stands back, a look of wonder dancing in her bright pink eyes.
I slowly walk to the mirror, and I gasp at the Fae looking back at me. Saleen had been instructed by the King to create a crown of my own for the ceremony. It now sits lightly above my brow, a delicate twist of golden thorns woven with small golden roses. The dress is as striking as I remember when she wove it; the gold glittering like sunlight, the twisted black thorn vines and roses writhing down the flowing skirt.
I look every bit the Princess I’m about to become.
“Good Luck.” Saleen’s face appears in the reflection over my shoulder, her cheeks pink with pride.
She grips my shoulder, and I cover her small hand with mine, mouthing, ‘Thank you,’ unable to speak. I sense nervous flutters rise in my belly when Saleen leaves.
Due to the King’s demands to get it out of the way so that he can march his Thorn Guards to Heartwood and seek his revenge, the big elaborate celebration that was originally planned for next week has given way to a more sombre, intimate affair today. We will be married, not in the Grand Ballroom as planned—which still lies in ruins—instead in the Throne Room. The King will not attend. The General is to be sent in his place to ensure the Marriage Bond is made. There will be no guests to celebrate, no dancing or merriment to be endured. We will retire to a small cottage at the very north of the fortress to spend our wedding night before Kiernan joins the march to Heartwood.
I am thankful for this turn of events, though it doesn’t make me any less anxious.
The General will escort me to the Throne Room soon. While I wait, I walk through my suite, wondering what, if anything, will change once we‘re married. Will I move to his suite or he to mine? Or perhaps there was a new place for both of us to start married life? Would there be an official coronation as a Princess, the future Queen? And I didn’t even want to think about the question of heirs.
Apprehension then gives way to tiny sparks of excitement and longing as I think about being alone with him in that cottage, to finally give ourselves to each other so completely. While we have enjoyed and explored each other in those short moments of snatched intimacy, the thoughts of him inside me send a pleasing rush of pleasure to caress the anxiety away.
I am startled from my lustful thoughts by a light rapping on the door. I walk over, turn the golden knob to open it, and find resistance.
“Don’t open the door, Princess,” Kiernan whispers, his voice low and husky. “It’s tradition that we do not see each other before the wedding.”
I laugh. Nothing about this wedding has ever been traditional.
Prince Kiernan
I’m going crazy, pacing my suite like a caged animal, waiting to be called to the Throne Room for my wedding.
My wedding.
What used to be a heavy chain to a life I never wanted—a path I loathed to take—is now the very ground I choose to walk. I don’t stumble across this line; I leap wholeheartedly. For her, I would trade a thousand chosen futures for this one.
