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“Why are you trusting her so blindly? What if she sells us out?”
That churning in her stomach was all mistrust and not jealousy. Right? They felt remarkably similar, some days.
“What would she gain by that? She needs me to help Myna, and I believe she is grateful.”
The room hummed with the steady background noise of the wards. “If you trust her, then why the spell?”
“Because I need to heal you. You have to rest and eat. We should go before sunrise.” He cleared his throat. “That is, if you agree that it will be safer there.”
It took her a moment to weigh her options. “Does this mean you’re leaving with me after tomorrow? To head across the mountains?”
Gavin looked her straight in the eye. “If you want me to. Then yes.”
10
VIOLET
Three weeks ago
Her wedding was upon her. The golden sun spilled through the large windows of the temple. She walked beneath pleasant greenery and flowers, petals drifting around her, spurred on by the wind that carried the scent of winter. The beautiful, untarnished blooms were at odds with the season, which could only mean magic aided them.
Unlike the crown that rested upon her head. Drops of mud dripped from it onto Violet’s face, rolling down her cheeks to end up on her ruined white dress. Vera had forced her to pick up the flower crown that betraying cock had given her as a parting gift.
Violet drew in a deep breath and let it ground her in the present, even as Vera’s tightening grip sent a shock of pain up her arm. Did the Crow suspect there was a knife with her name on it strapped to Violet’s thigh? Doubtful, but that made it all the more rewarding.
Logically, she understood this was a power play—and that if she wanted it to stop, she should act meek and apologetic. But she didn’t want to act like she was sorry for plotting to flee the kingdom. She was only sorry she’d confided in her friends about her plan.
She’d tried to escape the night Vera had delivered the letter which bound her to Gavin. Admittedly, that hadn’t been her finest moment.
It was an insult to the gods to wear something this filthy the day of her union to another magic-wielder. Especially one from such a prestigious, snobby family.
Yet, the Crow had placed it on her head, clearly intending to make her uncomfortable. In an act of rebellion, Violet simply let the drops of mud dry on her face. Pff—as if she would feel shame to be seen dirty by the likes of Dargan, the God of Shadows, or his sister Alera. This was who she was. If Vera wanted to torment her, she needed to up her game.
“Look at what a mess you are.” Vera’s voice was loud enough to travel down the chamber. Violet refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much it affected her. “Try hard to not do anything stupid. There won’t be any more warnings.”
“So I get one warning, and that’s it?” The Crow’s imposing aura crowded her own, spicy and stronger than anything she had ever felt.
“One’s already one too many, in my opinion. You are trouble, girl. If it were up to me, I wouldn’t waste anyone’s day by escorting you.”
Violet turned away from the woman, not wanting to exchange another word with her. At this rate, she’d provoke her into doing something she would regret. Her fingers itched with the need to grab the hilt of her weapon and teach this bitch how much trouble she could be.
Quiet melodies played in the background. String instruments—perhaps a fiddle—were interrupted by the chimes of bells.
No—on second thought, that was the ticking of a clock. A massive pendulum hung at the end of the chamber, framed by stone arches. A marriage of old and new. Built from iron and brass, a soft musical sound echoed around them every time it swung.
Violet took in the massive structure and the markings of letters in an unfamiliar language. It was three o’clock, yet no one but Vera and her were here. The ceremony was supposed to start at three on the dot.
Where was her groom? The place was deserted except for the magistrate, an ancient man dressed in sharp golden tunics with a red sash tied around his waist.
As if her thoughts had called them, steps echoed behind them. Two men and one woman entered the temple. Violet turned and the moment her gaze met Gavin’s, everyone else fell away. It was just him and her in this room, awaiting their destiny.
She devoured the sight of him a little too eagerly: the elegant velvet tunic that hugged his broad shoulders that tapered down to a narrow waist, emphasizing his trim body. Gold details hung from his chest: medals and commendations from battle.
They hadn’t allowed Violet to wear hers, not after they had stripped her of them when they’d discovered that she’d intended to escape. She tilted her head when Gavin stopped in front of her. His intense expression morphed into a grimace as he studied her in all her filthy glory. He was the light to her darkness, clean and polished against the dirt-stained picture she made. His brown thick hair was combed back, letting all the sharp angles of his handsome features shine under the flickers of candlelight.
His brows scrunched up in clear discontent. And yet, Violet appreciated that he kept looking at her face and not down at the mess of her gown.
She swallowed hard against the discomfort that swirled inside her gut, the insecurities of never being good enough. Of being all that Vera claimed her to be: filth, dirt. Worthless to the kingdom and to this man, who was the golden boy of his assembly.
