The Sanguines and their captives emerged from behind a white stone dais into a chapel that was crowned by a beautiful and ominous dome of stained glass and gilded ironwork. Elaborate patterns in green and blue burst from the center cupola in sweeping waves that must have taken ages to paint. Supporting the dome were intricately carved arches that lined the room, the Madrosian insignia of wings engraved within each keystone.
Leading from the dais was an aisle that bisected the rows of seats occupied by befuddled guests. The magic Risa had felt crawling behind the door was flooding through the room, the curse lapping gently against the people and dragging them a little deeper under its heavy, syrupy waves. The guards wore docile blank faces, theenchantment having worked at them for longer, but not enough to render them useless at their job, much like the guard at the gate. Risa felt the curse creeping over her skin, its reaching fingers trying to drag her into its depths.
But Sanguines surrounded the perimeter of the chapel, and most were bright and alert, suddenly straightening at the commotion. The powerful magic that washed over the crowd was unable to dig its claws into them. Which told Risa that the curse was definitely under some kind of control.
The only other people who seemed to really notice the new arrivals had all turned to look at them when they entered the room. Standing at the dais was a young woman dressed in white. She looked equally unaffected by the magic, though she had startled at their untimely arrival. A bouquet of lilies spilled elegantly over her clasped hands like a waterfall. She was pretty despite the terror in her frantic ice-colored eyes, with pale skin and tumbling blond hair the same shade as Javi’s bad magical dye job in Cairn.
Beside her was an angry middle-aged man, blue veins visible beneath his papery pale skin riddled with liver spots. Gray hair plastered the top of his head, making his sagging earlobes appear even larger. He had the same ice-blue eyes as the girl, though his were flat and cold, reflecting a frozen tundra. Rows and rows of medals decorated his dark military jacket, making it clear he was General Sur.
And he looked absolutely livid when his narrowed gaze fell upon them.
“El principito,” he snarled, the words an obvious insult.
“Should I…” The priest spoke, holding a leather-bound book and looking rather worriedly at the new arrivals. He wasn’t totally under the magic’s control, it seemed, but perhaps that was becausehe was a nervous wreck who shook like a leaf and didn’t need further coercion to fall in line. “Begin now?”
“I think we’ll find an amenable groom,” El Gib taunted as Carlos shoved Javi toward the dais. El Gib replaced the arm at Risa’s throat with a blade, its sharp edge pressing against the cut he’d made back on the airship. He and Bella shuffled around the side of the dais, dragging Risa and Amina along. She squirmed as a sharp lance of pain bit into her neck.
Javi offered her a thin-lipped smile from his place on the dais.
General Sur stepped forward. The stars on his lapel caught the light. He did not possess Javi’s height or El Gib’s impressive width, but when he canted his face toward Javi, there was no denying who was truly in charge.
“You should have died when you were given the chance.”
A bold pronouncement to make at a wedding. Not that Risa was an expert on weddings. Thiswasher first.
The guests reacted slowly, whispers and murmurs trailing off along with their sluggish thoughts. A short-lived sob rose out of the bride, who looked as if she’d been planted in her spot.
Javi sighed. He did not look shocked. “So youarethe one who has been trying to kill me. I was hoping for a better twist.”
The general rolled his eyes and turned back to his daughter. “Aren’t you glad you won’t have to waste your wedding night with this idiot?”
Silent tears slipped down her cheeks.
Her father remained unmoved. He raised a liver-spotted hand in the air to dismiss her and spoke to Javi with an arrogant tone. “Originally, I thought an assassination would be easy,” he admitted,seemingly unbothered by the audience witnessing his confession. “No better way to start a war, I think. But my men lost you in that stupid cursed forest.”
Risa rolled her eyes. Of course General Sur was a gloater. She just hoped his arrogance meant that he was the kind of man who made mistakes simply because he believed he was incapable of doing so. Then Amina could grab her daggers, or Risa could squirm out of El Gib’s grasp and try to break the curse’s hold over the crowd.
The general continued, “Then I thought a bounty placed by some mysterious benefactor could inspire several conspiracies. But you thwarted that plan, too. When I heard you were bound for San Cirilo, I thought, well, that was better. A tragic airship crash, possibly orchestrated by your own aunt?” General Sur spoke with an impassive voice, his affect flat and monotone. “Of course, nothing quite beats a classic death at a wedding.”
A figure broke from the crowd of red crescent moons, decked in a Cirilian uniform and goggles.
“Now the king of Kheadon will have no choice but to join the war so he can avenge your death.”
The Cirilian-uniformed figure raised a pistol. It would have been a nice change of pace if the mysterious person revealed themselves to be an ally, here to save them.
But that did not happen. The figure aimed at the prince and pulled the trigger.
And missed.
The bullet ricocheted wildly off target, hitting one of the intricate pillars and taking out a chunk of stone. Amina cried out, Javi sagged with relief, and the bride raised her lily-clad hands over her head.
“Sir, I apologize, sir, General Sur!” the figure said. They stumbled onto the dais, furiously attempting to reload the weapon to little avail. They ripped off the goggles and flung them at the general’s feet, where the figure joined a moment later, on their knees. “No matter how many times I arrange to kill this little bastard, he refuses to die!”
Risa knew that voice, though she’d heard it only a handful of times over a handful of hours spent trekking through the Bosque.
General Van Houten. Alive, holding a gun, and in the midst of betraying his kingdom.Again, apparently. Risa guessed Javi was going to get his twist after all.
“You?” Javi accused, betrayed. “You were my guard!”
