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“What is that?” Lurel appeared at Cora’s side, eyes wide.
“It’s nothing.” She threw the cloak into the fire. As Lurel’s eyes followed the garment, Cora stashed the crystal into the pocket of her new cloak. Her mind reeled. How had she forgotten that she’d taken Morkai’s crystal from the battlefield?
Lurel looked back at Cora, eyes searching her now empty hands. She opened her mouth, but a sudden chime of bells drowned out whatever she was about to say.
“What is that?” Cora asked. The bells resounded far too many times to mark the hour.
Lurel clasped her hands to her chest. “That must have to do with my next piece of news! I heard the gossip on my way here. Princess Mareleau is getting married. Well, those chimes must be announcing that it has already happened. It seems there will be no fuss or ceremony. It’s rather last minute, don’t you think? But her engagement has already lasted three years. It makes sense they would wed so fast, I suppose. There is to be a feast tonight. We cannot go, for we will be on the road by then. Unless you want me to ask my father to postpone?”
Cora tuned out the girl’s voice as she spun on her heel. Her steps were slow and heavy as she made her way to one of the windows. She watched as courtiers chatted animatedly in the garden below, probably gossiping about the princess’ surprise nuptials. Something dark heaved in her chest, but she refused to let it out. She was too afraid it might be a sob.
No, she wouldn’t cry.
She wouldn’t.
Why should she, anyway? Had she not admitted that a loveless political marriage would be better for her? If Teryn had wanted her hand, it would only complicate things. Her feelings for him represented something she wasn’t ready to accept—surrender. Should she marry for love, she’d have to give a piece of herself away. Her magical self. She knew she’d never be accepted as both a royal and a witch. Should she forge any heartfelt ties beyond what was necessary for the safety of her kingdom, she’d never have the option to return to the woods. She’d be nothing but Princess Aveline forevermore.
No, that was not something she could give in to just yet. While she knew she no longer belonged with the Forest People, she didn’t fit with the royals either. Her place was yet to be discovered. In the meantime, she’d play the royals’ games. Agree to their terms. Serve her kingdom. So long as she kept one foot out the door, she’d have means for escape. For freedom. For a future where she could be herself again.
Lurel came up beside her and handed her a folded piece of parchment, sealed with a simple, unmarked blot of wax. “Here is my final piece of news, though I can hardly call it that. I don’t know what it is. A servant brought it to me and asked that I deliver it to you.”
Cora took the note from the girl and flicked the seal with her thumbnail. She unfolded the paper to find a short letter that read:
Cora,
Meet me in the garden after dinner.
Please.
—Teryn.
“What does it say?” Lurel asked.
Cora crumpled it into a ball and brought it to the hearth. “Nothing important. Come. Let us prepare to leave. We’ll make no fuss about it either. Tell your father to keep our departure quiet. We wouldn’t want to take away from the princess’ happy day.” She said the last part with no small amount of malice and tossed the letter into the flames.
7
Mareleau Harvallis had never felt so anxious as she did now. Her stomach was a swarm of butterflies. Her heart the rapid pulse of hummingbird wings. She walked down the dimly lit halls of Verlot Palace next to the man she loved. The man she was now married to. The man who hadn’t so much as looked at her since they’d marked their names side by side on a binding contract.
That was all her wedding had been.
No ceremony. No Godspriest. No elaborate gown. Not even a kiss to seal their nuptials.
Just a quill, a contract, and a flurry of bells.
Her mother had convinced Verdian to agree to host a dinner at least, but Mareleau could have done without that. The last-minute formality meant Mareleau had been pulled away from Larylis immediately following the signing of their marriage contract to be fussed over by her lady’s maids. They’d cooed congratulations while whispering behind their hands when they didn’t think she was listening. They’d worn smiles while they’d styled her hair, dressed her in the prettiest gown she owned, then smirked and gossiped over the suddenness of her wedding and her unsettling choice of groom.
Dinner had been more of the same. She’d endured cold congratulations, perplexed stares, and too-loud whispers as her dinner guests speculated upon why she’d married the bastard and whether it was true he was now King of Menah in lieu of Teryn. She’d suffered it all with a tight-lipped grin, her composure curated to hide the mess of emotions tangled within. All the while, Larylis—her husband, her beloved—had sat mute by her side. Not once had they gotten the chance to speak. Not once had he turned to her with a smile or a kiss. Her dread had only grown from there.
Now that dinner was over, she and Larylis were forced to engage in one of the most barbaric and outdated traditions Mareleau’s kingdom observed during royal marriages. The procession to the wedding chamber.
The corridor echoed with strains of violin, shuffling feet, and muffled whispers. Thankfully, their retinue wasn’t overlarge, but even the dozen or so spectators were more than enough to tie Mareleau’s stomach in knots. She and Larylis were near enough to touch as they walked with slow steps. That they didn’t so much as brush fingertips showed her what efforts Larylis was taking to prevent it. She no longer tried to catch his eye, for she was too preoccupied with her own dread and humiliation. Surely, if she’d been denied a formal wedding ceremony, she could have been denied this ridiculous tradition as well. But no matter how hard she’d argued against it, her mother had refused to hear a word of it.This is more important than the wedding, Helena had said.Especially where you’re concerned.
Mareleau had guessed what her mother had been referring to. The procession to the wedding chamber was meant to prove a royal marriage was consummated. She could only thank the seven gods that her kingdom had long ago done away with the requirement that the consummation be witnessed by a Godspriest. To think that was ever considered civilized!
They reached the end of a short hall where a pair of red and gold doors stood. Mareleau had never entered them before. She’d never had need to, for the room was reserved specifically for newlyweds. Mareleau had to resist the urge to fiddle with her hair as they paused before the doors. She hazarded a glance at Larylis just as he did the same to her. Her heart climbed into her throat, sending it thudding even faster. Too soon, he looked away and faced the crowd behind them.
Mareleau did the same. She kept her eyes fixed firmly above everyone’s heads, grateful for how dark the hall was. Breah, one of her lady’s maids, stepped forward with a curtsy, then loosened the laces of Mareleau’s gown and removed pins, jewels, and sashes from her ensemble. Breah helped her out of her dress next, leaving her in her petticoats, corset, and shift. As she let down Mareleau’s hair, a young man went to assist Larylis out of his jacket and waistcoat.
