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“Cora,” he said in a breathy tone that jolted her heart.
“We are getting married, Gavin. You can call me Violet.”
“All right, Violet.” Her name on his lips made her stomach flutter. They might have stood for longer, just looking at each other, if not for someone clearing their throat in the background.
Violet met Julius Coventry’s piercing stare. His pale hair looked wet, smoothed to his skull. Wild strands curled over his ears. His white skin was peppered with pink freckles. A snide smile curved on his thin lips as he took in the plunging neckline of her dress, which left little to the imagination.
His tongue peeked out, and he sucked his bottom lip between his large front teeth. Had she not been staring, Violet would have missed it. Her stomach sank, and her blood ran cold.
This was the man her snake of a commander had abandoned her to—the infamous Julius from the Valdor Assembly.
“It’s about time someone introduced us, eh, Cora?” He extended his white-gloved hand. The ticking of the clock was deafening in her ears. “What happened to you? I hope you didn’t run into any trouble on the way here.”
False kindness to appease her soon-to-be husband. However, Violet wanted nowhere near those hands. They’d strangled multiple women in the past. Everyone knew it and yet nobody spoke about it.
“I can’t say it’s a pleasure,” she said.
The second Society of Crows member who had to be present in her wedding stepped into her line of vision. Violet hadn’t met her in person before. Judging by Vera’s description of the woman, she could already guess she’d be as despicable as her chaperone. Morgan’s hair was the same shade as Julius’: a pale blonde. She’d stained her lips blood red, contrasting with her black uniform and bringing out the greenish tint of her skin. If Violet looked at them long enough, Julius and her appeared to be related—and around the same age.
“Watch your tone with your commander,” Morgan snarled, letting her pronounced canines peek past her lips.
“Oh, calm down cousin. Violet is in shock about this whole affair.” Julius’ belly laughter was so loud it hurt her ears, but it wouldn’t food her. His nostrils flared with a barely contained rage which promised suffering.
“It’s Cora to you, Commander. You aren’t my friend, so let’s not pretend here.” She turned away from the two of them, toward her intended.
Had it not been for the magistrate’s presence or for Gavin’s, she suspected Julius would have dragged her away by her hair. To get punished, no doubt. Nasty rumors circled about him in the other assemblies. They claimed he used canes and whips. That he broke people, and that their begging excited him. But he wouldn’t break her, she would like to see him try.
Gavin’s alarmed expression didn’t waver, and she almost pitied him. A shame that this was his first real impression of her. Undoubtedly, no one had told him she rarely held back her thoughts and often led with her truth, whether it was unpleasant to hear or not. In this life, where a god owned you… Well. What was there to lose?
Violet doubted her fiancé truly knew what a monster his commander was. His growing displeasure made it clear that he was not on her side. And why did she even care? Other than the fact that Gavin was, admittedly, gorgeous to look at… Her stomach fluttered with re-awakened nerves as they pushed her to stand beside him in front of the altar, fear and attraction mingling until she could no longer tell them apart. It didn’t matter. Violet needed to get out of here.
“It’s time now.” The magistrate’s voice broke the silence that had descended on the group. Vera and Morgan stayed behind, and Gavin gestured for her to lead the way as they approached the statue before them. Alera, the goddess of life.
Violet turned to face Gavin, and they reached for each other’s hands as the magistrate commanded. He rattled off the laws of the kingdom and marriage, it didn’t expand much more than the few scribbles of the binding letter she’d received. They were now one, unless they failed to make a child. Then it was followed by a binding spell, used to connect family together.
Magic flowed around them like the waves of an ocean, golden circles enveloping both of them. In the background, Julius stopped scuffing his feet against the floor, and the Crow’s hushed comments died down to nothing.
All Violet could see was the man in front of her. All she could feel was his tender grip, her heart sped up, and her stomach tumbled with excitement that was dampened by her nerves.
In another life, she would have been happy that the gods had looked down on her and granted her a kind, handsome husband. His gentleness didn’t match the reputation of his assembly and their ruthlessness. Although perhaps he was just as evil and unscrupulous as them, only better at hiding it.
The spell settled around them, and the strings of gold vanished into their skin. And yet Violet felt no different. Everything was the same.
The magistrate stood tall, his frail frame swallowed by his tunic. He opened an ivory box with trembling hands. It was polished to shine like his bald head. Inside lay a silver dagger adorned with sapphires and emeralds. He stepped around the podium and came toward them, holding the blade. Up close, he looked even more ancient, although he was taller than Gavin by at least half a foot.
“Today, you are bound as husband and wife. Under the laws of our kingdom and gods, you are one.” His voice echoed through the large room, and he held out his hand.
Violet hesitated, but it wasn’t worth her trouble to defy this command. She hissed when the sharp edge of the blade cut across her skin. Blood pooled in her palm. The magistrate picked up a golden cup from behind him and held it beneath her bleeding fist, squeezing it to coax the thin red stream out.
“That’s enough,” she snarled, pulling away from his grasp. Immediately, heels clicked over the marble steps, and another blade pressed against her neck. A reminder that this was not something she could escape. Or so they thought.
The magistrate’s quirk of a smile sent another shiver down her spine. A trace of fangs peeked out from behind his withered lips, sending Violet’s heart into overdrive. “Go on,” he encouraged. “Getting agitated gets more blood out—much better that way.”
It shouldn’t have surprised her that the magistrate was an undead. Such roles were usually reserved for those kinds that lived long lives, although Violet had never seen one in the Iron Kingdom. When they had brought forth enough blood that her hand felt numb and cold, he repeated the procedure with Gavin. The healer, however, didn’t complain. Clearly, his sense of self-preservation was more developed than hers.
Nausea churned in her stomach when the old creature drew the goblet to his lips and took a sip. He shuffled back behind his podium, with a skip on his step.
“Why the blood?” Violet asked, and the blade nipped at her skin, making her wince.
