The druid rattled off standard wedding vows that Eislyn had heard a dozen times. They were no different than the ones back home. As she forced them out, the druid leaned forward and tied a golden ribbon around their joined hands. It felt as rough as chains.
When they were done, the Emperor unwound the ribbon and dropped it between them. Tears filled Eislyn’s eyes as she watched it flutter toward her feet. Her hand was free now, but the place where the ribbon had touched her skin burned as if it were encircled by fire.
“That’s it then.” The Emperor turned away without even the slightest of glances in Eislyn’s direction. Her heart pounded hard as she stared after him.
“You’re leaving?” she asked.
He chuckled. “Of course. You’re wed to me now. I have no need for you otherwise. Druid Evin will find quarters for you. I doubt I will see you around very often. Enjoy your new home.”
She fisted her hands, gaping after him. Her cheeks flushed with barely-contained rage. What had the point of all this been? Why had he married her? And why did he seem like he didn’t even care?
“I hate you,” she hissed.
The Emperor glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Too bad you don’t have to love me to be my wife.”
14
Reyna
“Wait,” the High King boomed, holding up a hand as the orange-haired warrior yanked another girl away from the others lined up to die. “Unseelie wishes to speak with me.”
Lovely. That wouldn’t beat allcreepy.
Reyna rejoined the path, her eyes locked on the gruesome king. His green, perfectly-groomed hair hung past his chiseled jaw, and a twisting branch of thorns perched on his head. His bloodshot violet eyes, set far within their sockets, eagerly stared into the flames.
Like the warriors that surrounded him, he was broad-shouldered and muscular, and he towered over most. The tips of his ears stabbed through his hair like twin blades. His leather armor had been topped with steel bracers, and his breastplate was smooth. No sigil could be seen.
Reyna understood at once. It was a statement, a warning to anyone who stood in his way. High King Ulaid Molt did not intend to reign over the Wood Court alone. He wanted all of Tir Na Nog to bow beneath his boot.
“Unseelie,” he growled, stretching his arms wide on either side of him. “Tell me what it is you wish for me to know. Who is the murderer in our midst? Which female here has betrayed her king?”
The fire crackled and spit. Shadows seeped from the ground where the king stood, curling around his black boots. It thickened as it spread like a mist. Reyna slowed to a stop, horror and awe forming a knot of dread in her chest. She’d met a lot of people over the past few months who claimed to have contact with the dark god, but none had ever convinced her that Unseelie was doing anything other than playing a game with their minds. They were puzzle pieces and nothing more. Ants to push along down the path that he wanted.
This was something else. Unseelie washere.
Reyna glanced at the wood fae warriors. They still stood enthralled by their king. Or, more likely, by Unseelie himself. Did they even understand what they were seeing? Would they remember it when they snapped back, awakening from whatever strange slumber had befallen them?
“Oh, my great god, Unseelie. Must I sacrifice more blood to your flames?” the High King intoned.
“No,” Reyna whispered, her heart thumping as she stared at the innocent wood fae lined up by the fire.
The High King’s head jerked up, almost as though he’d heard her voice. His smile stretched wide, revealing the sharp teeth coated in blood. He swept his gaze across the war camp. Reyna’s heart thundered. Surely he couldn’t have heard her? Her voice had only been a whisper on the wind.
“Unseelie has spoken!” he roared, pumping his fist in the air. The wood fae warriors did not even flinch. They stared, a horrible, eerie silence twisting through the tents. The occasional flap of the emerald banners was the only sound.
“He has whispered the name of our enemy, the one lurking in our midst, the one who killed one of our own.” He shook his head, scowling. “Her name is Reyna Darragh.”
Reyna’s blood chilled as the world dropped out from beneath her feet. Swallowing hard, she glanced around. No one had reacted yet. And no one had twisted her way. Her heart hammered as she turned back to the king. He was eagerly sweeping his eyes through the crowd, trying to spot her amidst the sea of green.
She’d never been so thankful for Thane and that damn hair dye.
Breath rattling, she planted her feet firmly in the ground and lifted her gaze to mimic those around her. The king was likely searching the camp for movement. Reyna Darragh would be roaming around, gasping or crawling or darting through the tents. He knew she would not be enthralled, or whatever this was.
After too many excruciating moments of brutal silence, the king finally relented. He scanned the crowd once more, and then snapped his fingers. The warriors shuddered awake.
High King Ulaid Molt licked the crimson from his teeth. “I will find you, Reyna Darragh. And then I will relish every last drop of your blood.”
* * *
