“What?” I swallow back the panic that threatens to spill out. “Why wasn’t I told about this before?”
“There was no reason to. Does this somehow interfere with your plans?”
A chill crawls down my spine. “What plans?”
Mother tilts her head as one side of her mouth curls up.
“What plans indeed?”
* * *
The rehearsal takes place on some hill in the gardens. It isn’t only for the wedding, but my coronation as well—which doesn’t involve Owena, so she stands aside with her father, the embodiment of patience and poise, while I go through all the motions of the ceremony.
It was too much to hope that they’d just put a crown on my head and be done with it. I have to say a bunch of words in a language I’ve never heard before, and no one bothers to tell me what they mean. I could be promising to dance in the blood of my firstborn for all I know. That’s starting to seem like a fae thing.
But I lock away my frustration and pretend I’m excited to bind myself to the Land. Mother doesn’t seem convinced, and I’m willing to bet the Land can tell, too. If the ground’s gonna be sentient, it’s good She’s not stupid, but I’m starting to regret not putting more effort into understanding Her before now.
On the bright side, if She takes offense at my insincerity and smites me down, at least I won’t be getting married. Now that I’ve rehearsed the ceremony, a swift death would be a blessing.
Fae weddings arefucked up.
Everything was going fine until Owena and I were standing under the wedding arch. There were so many rules about how we got there—when each of us took a step, when we could look at one another—but that’s typical for all the fae propriety I’ve learned in the last week. Then they pulled out the obsidian blade we’re supposed to slice one another’s arms open with before drinking each other’s blood and I almost passed out.
Seriously. What the actual fuck?I don’t even want to drink Ellie’s blood, let alone Owena’s. That shit’s supposed to stay inside your body, not oozing down someone’s throat. A shudder runs through me just thinking about it.
Owena doesn’t seem fazed at all.
“I’m not doing that,” I say to everyone present, then turn to her. “Why didn’t you tell me that was a thing?”
Owena’s brow crinkles in what seems to be genuine confusion. “Is that not part of mortal weddings?”
“No! It most definitely is not!” I’m minutely relieved this wasn’t an intentional deception on her part, but my horror overshadows that completely. I choke back bile as my stomach lurches halfway up my throat.
My veins freeze over as my mother’s expression hardens. “You will do your part in the ceremony, and you will do it with a smile on your face.”
This time, her words don’t echo, my mind and body remaining my own, but I recognize the threat.
If I don’t, she’ll force me to.
And of course, the blood-sucking will be followed by my public ravishment of Owena for everyone to see.
I’m gonna need something a lot stronger than speckled long leaf.
As it is, I would’ve bolted the second rehearsal ended if it weren’t for my mother’s willbending. She knows it, too—I can see it in her eyes. She knows I’m aware of what she’s doing to me, and an icy dread grips my insides, making it almost impossible to breathe.
How did I ever find comfort in this person? Sure, she had awful moments… most of them were, in fact, but between them were spots of genuine affection. Wiping my tears, tucking me in, laughing at my jokes. And it’s not like I wasn’t a disappointing kid, never listening and being terrible at everything.
Was it all an act? Did she ever actually love me?
Thinking back, I can’t remember a single time she ever said she did. The realization should probably devastate me, except I’m too busy dealing with the absolute panic of how the fuck am I getting out of here?
“I can’t do this!” I hiss at Owena the second the dining room door closes for our private meal. No servants, but my mother stands just outside. “I have to get out of here!”
“She can hear us,” Owena warns.
My fingers clench as I try to stop from exploding.
Owena nods at the food. “You should eat.”
