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With her last dash of desperation, Kerrigan turned and fled into the mouth of the cave with a raging Herasi warrior on her tail. As soon as she stepped through, something settled over her, holding her in place. Darrid vanished. The world disappeared. And she was dragged into a nightmare.
49
The Nightmare
Kerrigan stood from the floor, but it wasn’t a floor. It was a royal ballroom.
She had been to this place. A Bryonican flag hung from the ceiling in striking navy blue and gold. Her dress matched with the square-cut neckline and full sleeves that were in the current fashion. The bodice was tight and the skirt enormous. She even wore uncomfortable heeled shoes and heavy diamonds in her ears and around her neck. Her hair was piled high on top of her head. Not a loose curl in sight.
The ballroom was full of Bryonican Fae. So many that she couldn’t possibly recognize them all. But every one of them seemed to recognize her. They smiled and curtsied as she stood at the head of the room.
“Introducing Lord Ashby March, First of the House of Medallion.”
Kerrigan startled at the name that she hadn’t heard in twelve long years. Her stomach dropped as she realized what was to come next.
“And his betrothed, Lady Felicity Argon, First of the House of Cruse.”
A cheer rose up from those assembled in the ballroom. Kerrigan thought she was going to be sick. And it only got worse as March stepped up to her side and offered her his arm.
“My lady,” he said demurely, the gesture hiding his cruelty in public.
“March,” she whispered, stunned by his presence.
He had grown exceedingly handsome in the twelve years since she had last seen him. He had been an uncomfortably charming young man with enough baby good looks to get away with anything. But now, he was a man with sweeping broad shoulders and a face that any woman would swoon over. Still, she saw the boy who had learned at an early age to put bruises where no one would see them.
He grinned devilishly. “Shall we?”
“I…”
But he didn’t wait for her response. He’d never cared for a woman’s answer to anything. He tugged her close to his side, and they stepped down into the ballroom.
“Lady Felicity, I love that dress,” one woman said.
“Such the height of fashion,” a second added.
Another fluttered her eyes at March. “Hello, Ashby.”
He grinned at her but continued walking with Kerrigan close at his side. It felt like an interminable distance to reach the end of the room, where her father stood with a golden goblet in his hand. He actually looked the part of a prince and not the elusive party boy he was.
“My beautiful daughter, the day has finally come for you to marry Lord March,” Kivrin said proudly. “I have been waiting for this your entire young life. I know this is what you have always wanted.”
Always wanted? No, no, it wasn’t what she wanted. It had never been what she wanted. Why was everyone looking at her like this was normal? Did no one see her for who she truly was? She wasn’t Lady Felicity any longer. She was Kerrigan. She loved fighting and colorful, sleek party gowns and flying and breaking the rules. She loved getting drunk with Clover and sneaking into fancy parties. She loved adventure and her friends, who weren’t present, and she loved her own life. Not this one that had been made for her. Not this one that they had thrown her out of.
She tried to take a step back, but March tightened his grip on her arm.
“This is what we’ve always wanted too,” March said. His gaze was steely. “Isn’t it, Felicity?”
“No,” she whispered.
A gasp went up through the room. She had never said this before. She had never denied Ashby March anything. But she would never accept this.
His grip turned painful, and she whimpered, “Let me go!”
“Tomorrow, we will be married, Felicity, and all of this weak display of disobedience will be gone,” he hissed, low and urgent.
Kerrigan looked to her father and Sonali and Audria and all the many people she knew from her time in Bryonica. She saw them wait on bated breath for her response. Saw them all judge her for not wanting the most eligible bachelor in all of Bryonica.
But none of them saw her. Not a one. They saw a lady to be wedded off. Not a girl with real feelings and emotions and wants and needs. And she could never live this life. It was the one thing she feared above all others, even more than abandonment—to be trapped forever.
She wrenched her arm free of March’s grip. He snarled at her and tried to grab for her, but she easily evaded him. He had always been sloppy on discipline. Then, she turned, and like a runaway bride, she ran back through the ballroom as fast as her feet could carry her out and away from that life.
