Page 139 of The Faceless Queen

I nodded, my heart sinking, and took in the scene around me. With the sun out and the rain finally stopped, I could easily see the trees I’d been dragged through by Jaron’s men. I’d tried not to think about them all day. I hadn’t heard word beyond that they’d been transported to the Lafir dungeons back at the castle. I just hoped it was done already, that the executions were over. That despite everything else happening, I could at least put that to the back of my mind.

The rest of the trees across the clearing looked different in the daylight. Fresh drops of rain still sat on the green leaves. A cool gust of wind—almost cold, and still fresh with rain blew across the clearing. And in the distance, I could hear the birds chittering. A blue robin fluttered past. Well, at least there weren’t any chimera nearby. For now.

I turned my attention back to the gathered guests. There had been several dozen nobles and knights present for the hunt over the last few days. Around half of the men who’d traveled here had been out searching for the wild boar. Some of those men were gone now. Perished in the fight against the chimera. I knew that, yet seeing the number of wedding guests before me was still a surprise. There were twice as many people here as there were when we first arrived. I couldn’t even imagine how many carriages the horses had to bring through the country to get here while I was getting dressed. At least a dozen guests were knights who had not partaken in the hunt, but who I recognized from the tourney. Likely they’d arrived by moonstag. Here and there, I’d heard them landing outside my window.

The assembled crowd before me and Kienan had parted, leaving in the center a strip of grass lined with jasmine petals, the aisle for me to walk down. At the end of the row, just before the edge of the clearing, two tree branches had been staked into the grass. Purple silk cloth threaded with golden thread from House Lafir wrapped around the branches. A rope was strung between the tree branches. Another layer of purple silk hung between them, along with lace ribbons reminiscent of the ones I wore at the tourney, and that Brennan took with him on the hunt. Finally, bouquets of jasmine had been tied to the two posts. It was simple for a royal wedding, but it was beautiful. The purple silk complemented my bodice, and the flowers were a perfect match for the ones in my hair.

Again, as if it had been planned in advance—coordinated. But it hadn’t been. Who in their right mind would have planned for something like this? Wanted this? Not King Tirian. A man who chose to announce the engagement of the bride and groom with two days’ worth of jousts and melees, with endless parties and feasts, and a reenactment of Orsete and Kavrir’s meeting, was not a man who wanted a last-minute wedding in the woods.

King Tirian wanted the pomp and circumstance, wanted more days of events to show me off to his people, to ensure that there was no question about the legitimacy of our union. He couldn’t afford otherwise, not when he was a second son. And not when he’d given away one of the symbols of the crown.

Batrir’s black armor. But I couldn’t think about that now.

I looked over at the guests, and my throat went dry. They were beginning to notice my presence, turning to face me. Well, King Tirian would get what he wanted. There were certainly dozens upon dozens of witnesses who, by the end of the night, would be able to swear to the legitimacy of our marital union. If stories of my attack were spreading, then the wedding night stories and tales of our public bedding were about to run rampant.

But I couldn’t think about that yet, because it was starting. A musician softly plucked the strings of a mandolin. A tune I knew well. A style of playing I knew even better.

Thomas. Finlay stood beside him, his palm hitting his goatskin drum, his beats careful and slow.

“We’ll wait for the high priest,” Kienan said quietly. “He’s coming from behind the trees, with Brennan and King Tirian. When they reach the posts, we’ll begin our walk.”

I nodded.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“More than you know.”

He shrugged. “You’ll be all right. A few quick words, repeating back what the high priest says, and then it’s over.”

The wedding ceremony would be, but I didn’t want to bring that up with Kienan.

A few seconds later, I spotted the high priest emerging from the trees. He was an elderly man, his hair long and white, wearing black robes topped by a tunic embroidered with a blue stag and red flames.

Six Eskalon knights emerged from the trees next, their steel armor silver in the sunlight, each one wearing the blue moonstag. An honor guard for the king and the prince. For once, King Tirian walked behind Brennan, his golden crown shining in the sunlight. But I only had eyes for Brennan, for the way his hair curled, the way his locks looked like pure gold in the late-day sun, and the way his green eyes blazed as they tried to find mine. His armor was pure silver, polished to perfection and gleaming with every step he took. His usual blue cloak, the cloak of a knight, had been changed out for one that was red. The same red as the flames of their sigil. He looked handsome. Beyond handsome. And powerful, strong.

Like a God.

My heart began to pound as the music shifted and suddenly, everyone turned to me, eyes widening, sweeping over my corset, my skirts, and the hint of Olivay’s beauty that had been hidden behind the veil concealing my face.

“Ready?” Kienan asked.

It didn’t matter if I was or not. It was time to walk. I nodded, and Kienan led the way, guiding me in slow, careful steps down the aisle. Abigail moved behind me, pulling up the back of my skirts, keeping them from dragging across the still damp grass. Brennan held my gaze, the way he had so many times over the course of our engagement.

The way he had that for one brief moment when we were kids, and I had snuck through to the tower to catch a glimpse of Eskalon’s young prince.

But there was something different in his gaze now—a hardness to it. A distrust. Anger.

My heart thumped with every step, and I could no longer look at him, knowing that every step I took brought me closer to hurting him, and knowing that he now knew it, too.

I glanced at the guests, recognizing knights from the tourney, nobles from the engagement ball. There did seem to be a distinct lack of House Bathiner’s presence, something that felt oddly notable when they’d been so present for each previous event.

Was that by the king’s wishes? To not have them as witnesses for the affair? Or had they refused their invitations? Perhaps those not present were related to the three who’d been sentenced today: Erick, Donovan, and Stephen. Or maybe they were simply busy with funeral arrangements.

But as I reached the very front of the aisle, only a few feet away from my betrothed, I found Jaron watching me closely, standing tall in his shining black armor. Beside him stood his mother, the Almost-Queen, Lady Alena, wife of the late Crown Prince Rowan. King Nathan’s eldest and heir. Tirian’s older brother. The mother of the would-be prince.

We want the prince.

Jaron watched me with the same look he’d given me last night. Like he knew—knew everything and was just waiting for the right moment to strike. Lady Alena had a matching expression, her eyes dark. She turned her nose up in disdain as I passed.