“It would seem you’ve decided your wedding is too far away,” Mother says, her face barely moving with her words.
“Is there any point in waiting?” Owena asks from where she sits at the table next to me. “As long as it happens then, there’s no harm in it also happening now.”
“I’d rather not discuss what I do in bed with you, Mother,” I add.
Her eyes narrow in barely contained fury. “Then perhaps you should work on your discretion.”
“What’d you expect?” I reply. “That I wouldn’t bed the beautiful woman you forced upon me? Would you rather drag me unwillingly to our wedding?”
She blinks, and her face warms so fast it chills me. It’s like I’m seven years old again, and she just beat the shit out of me for breaking a bowl, only to hug me right after.
“Mothers worry about their sons. It can be upsetting to no longer be the only woman in your life.”
I force as natural a smile as I can to that creepy sentiment and turn back to Owena. She appears just as inclined as I am to eat quickly and get the fuck out of here.
* * *
“I’m supposed to be fit for my wedding gown this morning,” Owena says as we leave the dining room. “I expect you’ll have a fitting today as well. It’s likely I won’t see you until supper.”
I lower my face closer to hers. “There’s something I need to ask you about first.”
“Take the gardens then, to walk me to my room.”
I escort her back to where we first got to know each other, helping her sit on the soft grass. The scent of lavender fills the air, biting at my heart. I force an exhale, trying to stop the tears forming behind my eyes.
I join her, and she tucks herself against my side, taking my hands in hers. She brings her face inches from mine as she plays with my fingers. “What is it?”
My nerves tighten at her proximity. “This is still an act, right?” After the way she looked at me earlier, and during our dance last night… I can’t let her get the wrong idea.
“Of course it is. Was that your question?”
All business, then.“No.” I take a deep breath. “What happens if wedon’t consummate our marriage?”
“It’s not something we can fake. It seals our bond. The Land Herself responds to it, typically with flowers blooming. Everyone will know if we don’t. It would be… very bad, for you and me.”
My heart sinks. “I can’t do it, Owena. I can’t actually sleep with you.”
“Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to in order to survive. Your heart still belongs to her. It wouldn’t be a betrayal.”
I doubt Ellie would see it that way, and I don’t know how I’d ever be able to tell her. My chest aches just thinking about it. I have to find a way out before then.
Owena perks up and gently turns my face to hers. “Someone’s coming.”
I really need to figure out the range of fae senses—any escape attempt will probably fail otherwise. But I’m not sure if asking Owena is smart. She seems content to play the long-game, and I could lose her help entirely if she realizes I plan to be long gone before the wedding. I’ll need to ease her into the idea carefully.
I offer my hand to help her up. She takes it, and by the time the servant rounds the tree, we’re holding hands while looking at some flowers.
It’s time for her fitting.
I make a show of kissing her cheek goodbye, then wander the gardens, trying to catch when the guards notice me.
All of them are already eyeing me the second I spot them.
* * *
I’ve never attended a wedding back home, and the only formal events I’ve ever gone to were the Equinox Balls, which are admittedly on the sluttier side of propriety. As such, I had no idea what to expect from fae wedding attire when I was summoned for my fitting.
Fur, apparently. Lots of fur. It would seem I’m getting married in a blizzard.
