Ivenrail turned Brenna in a gentler way than I’d anticipated and placed a chaste kiss on her lips. Her hands quivered at her sides, not rising to touch him.
“Done,” Ivenrail said with a smirk. He took Brenna’s hand. She tried to tug away, but his grip tightened to the point she winced. I doubted the guests noticed, but I was standing closest to her. “Come.” His face wreathed with excitement, he urged her around the arch and up the stairs to the top of the dais where two thrones waited, one smaller than the other.
To the side of the dais, Madrood rumbled and released smoke from his nostrils. He watched, not moving toward the king.
Reyla and I followed Brenna, as did the high advisor and Kerune, taking their places to the right of Ivenrail’s throne.
I didn’t like how the two men appeared more interested in me than in what was about to unfold.
Ivenrail urged Brenna to sit in the smaller throne, and she did, gazing up at him with a mix of curiosity and speculation.
As I moved over to her right to stand beside her, Ivenrail’s gaze landed on me. I swore I read a smirk in his eyes. Turning, he faced the audience while guards lifted the arch and moved it over to the side of the room, clearing the path for the high lords and ladies to watch the next event.
“Guests,” Ivenrail said. “I do thank you for joining us today for this glorious moment. Before I place the crown on my lovelybride’s head, making her my queen, I have a short ceremony to conduct.”
His hand swept out and the floor shimmered between the dais and the audience. The image of wood peeled away, revealing tile swirling with a pattern I recognized from the Claiming cave. Seeing the image brought back the memory of Vexxion lying so still on the tiles I thought he was dead.
Trust. Trust. Trust. Vexxion held back secrets, but I’d trust he had a way not only to save himself but Brenna when the king died.
I had to believe that, or I’d fall apart.
With a snap, Ivenrail turned, stalking back over to Brenna, who looked up at him with growing trepidation.
“What’s . . .?” Her voice quavered, and who could blame her? She expected to be crowned then escorted to the formal dining room to enjoy the meal the kitchen staff had been preparing for days.
But he had told her he’d collar her after the wedding.
Vines snapped out of the floor, whipping around her legs and arms, pinning her to the chair. I’d expected it, but I still jumped. My mind was dragged back to when it happened to me.
Her panicked gaze met mine, but before I could say anything, more vines snaked around her forehead and jerked her head back against the gilded chair hard enough we all heard the crack.
She cried out and struggled.
“Stop whining,” Ivenrail barked.
She suddenly stilled, gazing up at him with complete adoration. What had he done to her?
I looked for Vexxion. We’d have to act soon. The Claiming wouldn’t take long, and I wasn’t going to stand here while the king drained her.
How were we going to kill Ivenrail without murdering Vexxion?
I didn’t see Vexxion in the room. If he hid with his threads, I’d still be able to find him.
Where are you?I asked, determined to hold strong. Determined not to cry out his name.
Something was wrong because he did not reply.
A worm of terror bored deep beneath my skin, seeking something vital.
My flesh crawled.
My heart ticked. Ticked. Ti . . . cked.
Brenna bucked on the throne, sharp groans erupting from her throat, yanking my attention back in her direction. She was fighting his spell, but it was already too late.
With her whimpers puncturing the world around us, he magicked a collar into the air. It coiled around his wrist in a serpent’s embrace. I cringed, unable to send Brenna reassurance with my eyes.
He stepped between her bound thighs.
