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I left Ember fast asleep, instructing Sophie to put her in one of my dresses and make sure she ate when she woke. I’d take her to the training yard where I could keep a close eye on her, then Raziel would follow us both around Blackcastle to see if he could figure out how she was getting messages to Solok.
Raven, was his guess, or some other manner of bird.
But we had stop her, before she did real damage.
I took my usual series of deep cleansing breaths before I walked down the center lane of the throne room. I was used to the courtiers’ whispers and stares, but today, everything was different. The air felt heavier, a layer of hushed anticipation lay over today’s proceedings as money changed hands in the balcony.
A lot of money.
A blushing Crux studiously avoided my gaze as I approached, but Lyrae met it head on, her lips curved in a mocking smile.
As if she knew exactly what was coming and looked forward to it.
I turned right, intending to take my usual seat when my father approached, his hand outstretched. “Today is a momentous occasion, daughter.” He crushed my fingers together, a clear warning—play along or else—leading me up the steps to his throne.
“Word has come from the west. My brother, the usurper, is not only weakening, he has lost his magic altogether.”
Fuck. That meeting in the anteroom with Ember and the information she’d let slip. I knew the Shadow King would use the intel, but I had no idea he’d pounce so quickly.
“I’m taking your advice, daughter. They need to see me as a father, not a king. And I have an invasion to pay for.” I tensed, wondering what he was planning. His hands lay heavy on my shoulders, trapping me in place for whatever came next. I glanced to Lyrae and Crux, making sure their swords were still sheathed.
“My brother is weak.” His voice rang out over the now-quiet room. “The time has come for Solarys to take back what is rightfully ours. We will invade Caladrius, and we will take back the throne that is rightfully mine, the lands that are rightfully ours. But as a father, I have no desire for my daughter to endure the trials of war, I will leave that for more experienced warriors.” His fingers dug in painfully and my breath shuddered in my lungs.
If his hands dropped lower, if he discovered the iron around my arms, I was dead.
“The princess shall marry into one of our mightiest families…Lord Gravelock of House Belanthus.” I barely heard the crowd’s roar, hardly noticed anything except the tall, thin Fae male who appeared out of nowhere, with his cruel eyes and black-tipped ears. Lyrae smirked, and I glared daggers right back at her.
My father put my hand in Lord Gravelock’s limo, lifeless one, as if no blood coursed through the male’s veins. I pulled away, but he gripped my fingers harder.
“Twenty million gilder is a fair price, since you will be of no use on a battlefield, daughter. You swore to honor me and you will, by funding my victory over my brother.” His icy smile turned brittle as he leaned closer. “Why did you think I wanted you in the first place? A pure-blooded breeding female is always worth her weight in gold to some males wanting to sire a brat.”
“You have your gold, my king. I wish to be married today.” Every word was an arrogant sneer as Gravelock tightened his grip.
“Now. Before you begin today’s formal proceedings.”
His creeping smile froze the blood in my veins. “Once this is done, I will whisk you away to the Stormlands, princess. Far away from this unpleasantness.”
No. No. No. This could not be happening.
“As you wish.” The king snapped his fingers and a royal cleric appeared, long white robes gleaming. Panic burned bright as I looked around, but there was no way out, not behind me, where the courtiers had blocked off the aisle to get a better view, not past the throne, barricaded by Crux and Lyrae and certainly not through my false father, transfixed by that trunk of gold.
“Twenty-two million gilder.” A deep, amused voice called from the back of the room and the crowd went quiet, my father’s head rising to see who suggested such a ridiculous number.
“Wait. I can do better.” I squeezed my eyes shut at that familiar voice, the heavy tromp of boots approaching behind us. “Make that twenty-five million gilder. I am in no mood to barter with fools.”
“She’s fucking mine.” Lord Gravelock hissed, twisting my wrist painfully. “Ipaidgood money for her title and her pure blood.”
“Not any more she isn’t. You’ve been outbid.” Tavion Fucking Montgomery strode toward us, the crowd parting like he was some king of old, his pale eyes flashing.
He was dressed as well as anyone else in this room, his blue cape threaded with silver, the hilt of a knife poking out of his fancy waistcoat, black boots shining. I didn’t know if this development was an improvement, but some of my fear faded away.
Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, Ember always said, and in this case, I agreed.
“Now get your fucking hands off my…betrothed.” My mouth dropped open at his arrogant, possessive tone. “Twenty-five million gilder for the princess, my final offer.”
Crux stepped forward, his weapon half drawn, stopping in his tracks at a single glance from Tavion. “Call off your dog, and we will finish this.” Tavion smirked and my racing heart thundered even harder. “Or not, and Gravelock can take her to the Stormlands.” He leaned in. “I heard nothing grows down there and you are a bloodless git, so how do you expect to plant your seed in her womb?”
“Stop this.” I whispered, not even sure what I was asking. I managed to yank my hand out of the Lord’s grip, rubbed my aching fingers. “Please. Stop.”
