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“Are you all right, Mistress?” Leif’s voice startles me from my thoughts. He’s studying me through his mask, like a creature from my nightmares.
“Yes, very well. Thank you,” I say quickly.
His head turns to the side for a moment, as if he’s carefully interpreting each word, before he nods and continues leading us forward.
My damp slippers slap against black stone floors as I shuffle along the fur rugs, following Leif to the enormous entry room. For all its size, it’s unnaturally still and airless. A massive fireplace sits on the far wall, but it is devoid of flames.
If the castle is reflective of the king, it becomes clearer why he has had to import his bride. Even the halls are ominously empty, the only sound the weight of Leif’s left foot gently scraping along the floor as he walks.
“Nearly there now,” he says over his shoulder. “We’re just taking a quick shortcut.”
He leads me through a large door to the outside once more, and I brace myself for the biting cold. I don’t complain, though, because at least there is light here…and air.
Still, I bundle my cloak tighter around my bare midriff and wonder if perhaps I was wrong before about drowning.
If instead, this kingdom will be my frozen tomb.
Leif opens another door at the end of the walkway leading back indoors, and I force myself to follow him to the dark interior.
“Nearly where?” I ask when he makes no move either to the right or the left.
A naïve part of me is hoping he will say we’re nearly to my rooms, but that doesn’t seem likely.
Instead, he gestures to the door directly across the hall and it feels as if my heart has stopped beating. I hear the music drifting from behind the wall before he can answer.
“The ceremony, of course.” His expressionless mask tilts to the side as if he’s confused by my question.
Of course.
When I had been told to wear my bridal gown, I had expected the marriage to happen today, but not before I had a moment to use the privy or collect my thoughts, or, even more ludicrous, to meet my groom.
Nothing for it now. I plaster a bland smile on my face and head for the door. Leif reaches out to stop me.
“Your cloak, My Lady.” He holds out a gloved hand.
I suppress a sigh. I’m not in a hurry to be any colder, but I can’t very well walk down the aisle with my cloak on.
Handing it over, I give myself ten more seconds to breathe, straightening the ruby dangling on my forehead and smoothing out my silk headscarf. Once I’m finished, Leif nods his beaked head and opens the door to the ceremony.
The candlelit aisle is lined with rows of pews, at least twenty on each side, but only a handful of those are occupied. Though the guests are dressed in rich velvets and furs, they, too, conceal their faces with coverings similar to those of the servants. The only differences are that the haunting masks of the men are overlaid with fine silks, and the ladies’ veils are embellished with thick layers of intricate lace.
The abundance of short swords and axes, even among the women, makes me grateful for the knives I have hidden on my person. At least I’m not going into this completely defenseless, even if it feels that way.
Finally, I force my eyes to follow the path of the aisle to the man who has kept his entire kingdom away from the rest of the world.
I suck in a breath.
With everything I have seen in what feels like an obscenely long twenty-two years, I had begun to believe that astonishment — just like hope — is an emotion I am no longer capable of.
But when I see what awaits me at the end of the dimly lit room, I realize that’s only one of the many, many things I’ve been wrong about.
Chapter Three
Standing at the end of the aisle is the king of Jokith, a mountain of a man clad in gray and white furs with an enormous axe strapped to his back and a short sword at his side.
By all appearances, he looks more prepared for battle than matrimony.
Or, are they the same in his mind?
