Page 138 of The Faceless Queen

When I walked back inside my room, I froze. Abigail was standing over my bed, dangerously close to the pillow where I’d hidden the parchment and my mother’s necklace. The kind of trinket that could only ever be found in Azeal.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Abigail curtseyed, her face flushed. “I’m sorry to come in unannounced. We’re to prepare for your wedding tonight,” she said. “We don’t have much time. The king’s orders.”

“And that required you to be at my bedside?” I gestured to the wardrobe and the trunks of my clothing lying on the opposite end of the room.

“N-no,” Abigail said. “I was just going to strip the sheets since you won’t be sleeping in them tonight.”

“Because I’ll be in my marriage bed,” I said, still feeling numb. Fuck. Was everything still in play? The prophecy? The child? Brennan knew what I was, but he didn’t know who I was—not truly. He didn’t know who’d sent me. Or what was going to happen.

He will die.

“Yes,” Abigail said. “It’s in a separate building from the hunting lodge—a small cabin you must walk outside to reach that will be well guarded. So you and the prince may have privacy.”

“Privacy,” I laughed. “What about the bedding ceremony?”

“Well … the privacy comes after that,” she said, looking down. “Once the first time is … done.” She looked back up at me. “Unfortunately, none of the items we’d ordered for your wedding were completed in time. We thought we had a few more days for the seamstress to work. So I’ll have to work with what we already brought.”

I eyed the trunks, knowing there were more than likely three wedding dresses with everything combined. But what I wore at this point mattered little.

“Very well,” I said. A guard called out, opening my door. Two more servants were announced and permitted to enter, girls who looked to be Abigail’s age. One carried a tray of breakfast foods and the other a basket of brushes, oils, and soaps. Thunder boomed, and a fresh wave of rain began to pelt against the glass of the window. Fuck. That was going to stop the Hermit from his travels. It was going to be a long day.

“I’ll eat first,” I said, feeling resigned. I was going to have to keep up my strength and be ready for whatever came next. Because I was going to be married tonight, whether I wanted to be or not. And so was the groom.

Hours passed as if in minutes, and the morning and afternoon of my wedding day quickly turned to early evening. I’d thought the process of getting bathed, dressed, and made up as a princess at Lafir Castle had been absurdly long and complicated. Hours had been spent dressing me for the tourneys, the ball, and the meals. But that had been nothing compared to what Abigail had in store for me. I was bathed twice as long as usual, my hair washed and oiled multiple times as Abigail sent the girls out to bring more hot water for the tub.

The rain began to clear as we approached early evening, and Abigail, along with the other two girls, began finishing touches on my wedding look. I was clothed in nearly a dozen layers. First there were my under things, all made of sheer satin and lace. My breasts were lifted high and secured within a bra by one girl as the other tied the white ribbons of my underwear into neat bows on either side of my hips. They slipped a sheer lace dress over my shoulders. The material only closed around my belly and flowed out at my waist into panels, leaving my bra and underwear on display. A corset was tightened across my waist, and my breasts were hoisted even higher.

Next came a paneled skirt, followed by another, and then another. Layers meant for Brennan to publicly remove for the bedding ceremony. My body began to feel weighed down as each new layer was secured. Finally, there was the white satin overskirt full of shimmering pearls and beads secured around my waist. One that was miraculously appropriate for the wedding. Almost too appropriate. I hadn’t remembered Abigail packing it, or seeing it in the wardrobe. I almost wondered if that had been done on purpose, as if the wedding had always been planned to be sped up, but how? How could anyone have known what would happen with the attack on me, and the chimera attack on Brennan?

Jaron’s black armor flashed in my mind. Batrir’s armor. Something was wrong, but I didn’t know what.

The final article of clothing was laced up my back, a pale violet corset with golden thread, and the finishing touch, a golden belt.

The sun began to show itself outside, the rain stopping, and I took my final look in the mirror, almost dizzy with what was reflected back. Abigail and the girls had done a beautiful job preparing me. And I—Olivay—was stunning. Tiny braids full of white jasmine flowers had been threaded through my curls, the shining dark locks flowing out toward my breasts. Gold and silver beads shimmered against the gown with every turn I made. And there was no denying that my skin was glowing. Olivay’s skin. All that remained was a white veil in place of Orsete’s blindfold. One of the girls had been sewing the fabric in the corner, and finished just in time. I took one final look in the mirror, knowing it was happening. The wedding was not going to be called off.

The girls who’d helped me dress finished packing away my clothing and personal items in the trunks. They’d be moved to the honeymoon suite tonight. But I was leaving something important behind. Something that could not be found. I sent all three girls into the hall, telling them I needed a moment alone to pray to Kavrar and Orsha–the Spartvan versions of Kavrir and Orsete.

Once alone, I raced for the pillow where I’d stuffed my bag. I opened it, checking that all of the parchment pieces were still there. The image of Alyra. And then my mother’s necklace. I ran my fingers over the eagle wings, the sun and moon etchings, and then popped it open. I caught sight of my image, and something stirred in the back of my mind, like a memory, but I couldn’t place it. Almost like I was remembering myself through Brennan’s eyes. Then I took in my mother’s drawing of Orsete, and I prayed for strength, and for guidance to get through the night.

I slid it all into the nearest trunk and resealed it. Then called out to Abigail to alert my guards and escort. I was ready to get married.

My stomach twisted as we entered the hall, flanked by a dozen guards in blue cloaks. Kienan appeared. His dark curls, a match for Olivay’s, had been pulled back behind his head. His skin was more pale than usual, there were dark circles under his eyes, and he was walking stiffly with one arm resting in a sling.

“Are you alright?” I asked, genuinely concerned. He’d also faced the chimera twice, and been injured both times. It was miraculous he survived.

“I’ll live,” he joked, his eyes looking me up and down. “But you, Cousin, are a vision. When Brennan sees you, he will … Well, he’ll be very pleased to see you.”

I closed my eyes, knowing that wasn’t true, but I tried to smile anyway. “Shall we?” I asked.

He held out his uninjured arm, and I took it, feeling the weight of my skirts and beads and corsets weighing me down with every step we took outside. Lord Dovan, the same man who had first guided me to the tourney appeared, no doubt one of the bedding witnesses sent for by the king.

“Ah, congratulations, Princess Olivay, Your Highness.” He bowed. “You look as beautiful as Orsete herself. Or, Orsha, shall I say? Absolutely stunning. Please, allow me to lead you to your wedding ceremony.” He turned, and we followed him out of the lodge and to the clearing where we’d gathered the night before.

“Has there been any word from my ambassador?” I asked. “Lord Brandon?”

“I’m afraid not. But don’t you worry, your cousin is here, and you’ll be House Lafir soon. A member of the royal family.”