“It’s tradition for the presenting kings to escort The Potential down the aisle. But that tradition comes with a purpose. It’s so you don’t hurt yourself, as you must keep your head bowed and your eyes lowered until your High King tells you to raise them for his answer. If it’s yea, then you’ll join him up on the dais, and the wedding will take place with a big celebration afterward.”
I was no longer the naive girl who’d been delivered to this kingdom. I didn’t ask about the alternative—it had already featured in my worst waking nightmares. Heavily.
But I did ask, “What happens if I peep?”
“Don’t peep, Strawberry.” Tadhg’s tone took on a note of stern warning as we came to the end of the hallway. “It’s considered incredibly bad luck if you look before he gives you permission. So lower your gaze now, and no matter what happens—or how he smells—keep your eyes on the floor.”
“How he smells?” I asked, even as I lowered my eyes just as he said.
Tadhg didn’t answer, and a grand ceremonial kind of music started up. Not quite a wedding march, but not a funeral dirge either.
Something in between, that could go either way.
I sensed each row standing just before I passed by. But I kept my eyes glued to the dainty ballet flats Brigid had brought me.
I’d never owned such delicate shoes before.
I wondered if I’d be allowed to take them with me—if the odds didn’t go in my favor.
I wanted to hold on to anything, anything I could from my magical time in the Secret Kingdom.
We came to a stop, and the smell of sweet and sour plum filled my nose.
Strange.
Maybe the High Prince was standing on the dais, too—not sitting with Brigid, as I’d assumed, in what had sounded like a very, very large audience.
Maybe the looking-down stuff was one of the Irish Bear traditions I didn’t totally hate.
The Shadow King gently pushed me to my knees on the floor while Tadhg said something in Irish. It sounded melodic and ancient in a way that neither English nor Wölfennite Dietsch could match.
Then a not nearly as deep but much more resonant voice spoke above us, and the sound of a considerable number of people sitting down filled the space.
So many people had shown up to witness my possible humiliation.
My throat clogged, and my heart shuddered. The incoming rejection felt certain. No longer just a possibility but a fact that would surely break me.
Why, oh why, had I rushed this? I could have had three whole months in this heaven on earth if not for my condition.
I stewed in misery, unable to imagine a future where I’d ever be as happy as I’d been over the last few?—
“Yea, I accept you, Sadie Ellis. You may now rise to become my High Queen.”
I blinked. Then blinked again.
Did he…
Did he just do that thing that was the opposite of rejection? Sayyeainstead of thenayI’d been expecting, given his behavior?
I could barely believe it as I lifted my eyes to find…
Just one male standing on the dais.
Handsome as one of the models in the Edinburgh airport ads for Burberry suits, the High King had a white streak in his hair, and he even wore a knotted bear medallion over his royal robes.
But his scent… it was wholly familiar.
As were the gray eyes staring back at me with a mixture of judgment and curiosity… that could easily be mistaken for a listening face.
