“Tonight? I know you’re thrilled to have your beloved back safe and sound, but such a wedding simply isn’t possible. These affairs take months of planning to be grand enough for such a magnificent occasion.” The woman gave a musical laugh, turning as if to say,Oh, how silly,to the councilmen surrounding her.
Renard didn’t blink.
“Mother, I don’t want grand. I want a wedding. The star-born priest, vows, and the keys to my kingdom.”
Inés caught eyes with Amarande, searching for help in this madness, but the princess gave her nothing. Like Amarande was to be, Inés had been a bride at sixteen, and though the Dowager Queen’s face was still youthful, the worry that slipped across her features now aged her a decade.
The Dowager Queen continued. “That isn’t how this works, Renard. There is no envoy from Ardenia. My own wedding took nearly a year to plan, and the dress alone took six months—”
“The wedding is tonight, Mother. Be in attendance or wait a year for the perfect dress, but it will happen.” Renard turned to a white-haired member of the council, whose own jaw was hanging as low as the Dowager Queen’s. “Laurent, prepare the service.”
Inés said no more, only turning with her advisors and disappearing, preparing for her next move.
CHAPTER
43
ONCEhis mother’s footsteps echoed up the stairs, onto the ramparts, and into the belly of the castle interior, Renard wasted no time in organizing his countereffort.
“Princess, come along. We shall get you bathed and fitted—if it was truly made with such care, my mother’s vintage wedding gown will surely do with a few adjustments. Though I daresay you’re quite a bit shorter and less voluptuous than Mother was on her wedding day.” His eyes settled on her chest in a way that made her want to gouge them out with only her thumbnails and fury. He shrugged. “Only she will mourn the seamstress scraps. Follow me.”
Renard turned for a set of stairs mirroring the ones Dowager Queen Inés had just taken. Parallel lives leading up to the wedding and coronation in every way.
In answer, the princess drew Luca’s bound hands into hers before moving an inch.
Renard swatted in their general direction, annoyance flickering across his features. “No, no, you and myself only, Princess. This is where you leave your stableboy.”
Amarande dug in her boot heels. “No.”
The people around them shifted as the atmosphere in the courtyard changed, charged. The open air seemed to press down upon them rather than reaching for the heavens. Renard’s eyes shot to his brother as if to get some sort of clue as to how to swaya woman. Taillefer simply shrugged and, always lightning quick to find humor, smiled. “Plants do my bidding, Renard, not women. I don’t know how to make her listen.”
The would-be king sighed and returned the short distance he’d advanced.
“I agreed that I wouldn’t kill him, not that he’d be your pet, Princess. I can’t have you preparing for our wedding with your plaything helping to dress you.”
Amarande flushed, and that only served to increase her fury—because it validated Renard’s decision.
The prince smirked. “The boy—”
“Luca,” she sniped, teeth bared. She knew Renard was simply treating him like a servant or maybe like an enemy—Amarande herself had admonished Luca for using familiars with the pirates. But if this was to be their life, everyone in the castle would call her love by his name and nothing else. “Use his name.”
“Lucawill be under the guard of my brother,” Renard continued. “I trust no one more. Did he not do a fine job attending to Luca on our trek to Pyrenee from the Torrent?”
Amarande turned to Taillefer. “I shall go with you now and review his accommodations to ensure they’re acceptable.”
Her grip tightened around Luca’s hands as she tugged him in Taillefer’s direction. But the younger prince did not budge. His face was as joyful as a hyena’s, though his words were firm. “That is quite unnecessary, Princess. I am aware of your threat against my brother.”
It was right there on the tip of her tongue—that was what she was afraid of. Renard was an idiot to trust Taillefer.
Renard leaned in, blocking his low words from as many ears—and eyes—as possible. The guards and hired hands hadn’t left; they stood at attention, waiting to be dismissed. With them, the horses shifted and flipped their tails. “And I am aware of the threat against you, Princess.”
No, she wouldn’t play this game.
“This whole marriage is a threat to my power and Ardenia. I—”
“No, toyou,Princess. To your heartbeat and further.” His ice-blue eyes swept the length of her—dusty and ash covered in Ula’s clothing—before his warning continued on, rushed and low, confirming what Amarande had already realized. “My mother doesn’t want you married to me. My home is a beautiful one, but it will be the death of you if you are not careful. The next few hours are crucial and dangerous. Everyone who is not me is a threat—even my guards can be turned. Marry me and we’ll both be safe the second those crowns are upon our heads.”
Renard still hadn’t learned his lesson, apparently, because he attempted then to sway Amarande with a hand to her wrist. She flung it away the second he made contact.
