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I frowned at him.
“Why? Where are you going?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“To fulfill the pledge I made to you. Unlike you, little bird, I honor my vows.”
Then he strode across the grassy courtyard, straight up to Asfaloth.
My cousin stopped what he was doing and looked up at the grim specter of the horned Unseelie menace looming over him. Never could one see the difference between the two Courts so clearly as now, I thought numbly.
To the naked eye, Asfaloth was all that a Fae warrior ought to be—tall and straight and slim with shining blond hair and eyes like amethysts. And then there was my new husband, who looked like darkness itself beside my cousin’s golden form.
With his gray skin gleaming with golden tattoos and the burning bronze eyes glaring out from his dark face—not to mention the curling ram’s horns—Liath looked like the devil himself beside my cousin. And yet, Asfaloth had only ever wounded me, while my new husband had healed me.
I pushed the disloyal thought from my head. I hated Asfaloth and Liath equally, I told myself. They were both worthy of my animosity. But the scene unfolding between my cousin and my new husband soon hushed the yammering thoughts in my head.
“What do you want, Unseelie?” Asfaloth somehow managed to sneer down his nose even while looking up at Liath.
“I want to honor the vows I made to your cousin—my wife,” Liath growled.
“Honor your vows then.” Liath shrugged his slim shoulders elegantly. “What do I care? How do you even mean to honor them?”
“Like this.”
Suddenly, Liath had him by the throat and was lifting him high into the air.
Asfaloth kicked and struggled, his amethyst eyes bulging from their sockets in surprise as much as pain.
“Here now—what are you about? What are you doing?” my Aunt Lyrah exclaimed, going pale.
Calista was more to the point.
“Put him down, you great Unseelie beast! Put my brother down!” she cried. Jumping up, she grasped one of Asfaloth’s hands and yanked on it, trying to get him down, but of course it didn’t work. Liath just stood there, holding my cousin by the throat as he kicked feebly in the air.
“You’ve hurt my wife for the last time,” he growled at Asfaloth. “The next time you touch her, you die. Do you understand?”
Asfaloth just gurgled. His face was turning beet red by now as his limbs flailed—well, all but the arm Calista was hanging on.
“I said, do you fucking understand?” Liath demanded, and shook him like a rag doll.
My cousin seemed to be trying to nod his head but the only word that came from his mouth was a strangled sound like, “Ysggg!”
“Here, now—what is the meaning of this?” My father came striding over, his face set in a righteous rage. The Sun crown gleamed on his brow, casting a golden glow all around him.
“The meaning is me teaching this little shit a lesson about hurting my wife,” Liath growled, still not releasing Asfaloth. “He damn near broke her wrist—left bruises all over her flesh!”
“How dare you act in this manner?” my Father blustered, completely ignoring the part about Asfaloth hurting me. “These are not the actions of one who wishes to make peace between our Courts!”
“I never said I wanted to make peace with you.” Liath abruptly loosened his grip and dropped Asfaloth to the ground. My cousin went sprawling and his mother and sister gasped. Their hands fluttered like wounded doves as they knelt to attend him. The marks of Liath’s big hand were already appearing as a necklace of red marks around his elegant throat—just as the marks of Asfaloth’s own fingers had so recently decorated my wrist.
My father looked up at Liath, perplexed.
“You…if you do not wish to make peace, then why did you ask for my daughter’s hand in marriage?” he asked, looking genuinely confused.
“Because I fucking wanted her,” Liath growled. “And because she’s spent long enough in the wrong Court. She needs to come home, with me.”
With a final glare at Asfaloth, who was still sprawled on the ground, he turned and came back to me.
I had been frozen on the spot, watching the whole scene unfold with mixed emotions. On one hand, this was certainly not the proper way to behave at a wedding—especially one’s own wedding. But on the other hand, I couldn’t quite ignore the surge of pure joy I felt at being vindicated. No one in my life had stood up to my cruel cousin since my brother had died. No one had defended or protected me or avenged the malicious and vicious acts he and his sister had worked on me until now.
But I had to remind myself that this vengeance was being taken by my brother’s killer and tamp down my joy at finally being avenged.
Before I could say anything to him—though I don’t know what I would have said—Liath took me by the hand and drew his dagger again. He stabbed it into the air above his head and pulled downward with the same motion one might make if they wanted to rip a curtain in two with a blade.
