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“Let me go,” I demand, attempting to tug my hand out of his grasp, but he holds fast. “Or take me to my own room, at least.” Maybe I can shut the door in his face and push the dresser in front of it to keep him out.
At my words, something lights up in his eyes. A twinkle of amusement that sends a chill down my spine.
“You think you’ll be more comfortable having our wedding night inyourroom?” His lips twitch, sensuous and cruel, and I shake my head. Nowhere I’ll spend the night with him. Not in my room or any other. When I don’t respond, he nods. “I didn’t think so.”
The walk through the corridor stretches forever under the stare of the Crows, and yet it comes to an end too quickly, too abruptly when the Crow King flicks a finger and a door swings open a few steps ahead, blackened wood making way for the king and his bride. My stomach drops into my knees, and I dig my heels in, debating flipping my good hand with the knife toward the doorframe to lodge the blade there and give me an anchor I can use to rip free from his grasp. And then?
A glance over my shoulder tells me the Crows have followed us all the way, eager black eyes glistening in the light of sparse torches. I spy Royad near the front of the crowd and shoot him a pleading look.Get me out of here.
I don’t know what makes me think he’d help me. Maybe the fact that he didn’t let me die at the spa. Maybe that he didn’t kill me on the transfer from prison even when I tried to escape repeatedly. He’s not a friend or even an ally, but he is what I’d call the least enemy in this palace. So, I hook my gaze onto his all-black one and pray he won’t leave me to my fate.
Don’t fight,he mouths, and the last shreds of hope die in my stomach as I am tugged across the threshold and land against the hard chest of the Crow King. The air leaves my lungs at the impact, and I find myself staring at his chest, the smooth fabric of his vest stitching over his muscles as he locks me in place. He clears his throat, and my gaze snaps up to his to find his all-black eyes already on mine. Instead of hunger and cruelty, I find a hint of something else that I have no name for. It’s not hesitation. It’s not concern either. And I don’t get a third guess because his feathered arms wrap around me, as does his magic, and my fear spikes as he grasps my chin with his fingers, leaning in so close I believe he is going to force his mouth onto mine. I’m ready to scream, ready to stick the knife in my hand into his chest or his throat and damn the consequences.
Instead, he veers right at the last moment, lips not even grazing my cheek as he whispers in my ear. “Play along, Wolayna. It’s the only chance we’ll both get what we want.”
My breath stutters, and so do my thoughts. Had my heart been merely galloping before, now it’s racing like a wild hunt.
In the corridor, the Crows become impatient, their caws and hisses turning into words.
“Kiss the bride!” a Crow shouts, and the whole crowd starts chanting. “Kiss the bride. Kiss the bride.”
Kiss.I’m not going to kiss the monster before me—not before me, but mere inches from me. I can feel his warmth around my shoulders, his hard front where it brushes against mine, even when I lean back into his wings to bring as much space between us as his magic could possibly allow. I’m trapped. I can’t get out. Can’t breathe.
“Kiss the bride. Kiss the bride.”
There is no reason for them to demand Myron kiss me other than that their cruelty must be beyond anything a human could ever comprehend. They want to see me squirm, want to see me humiliated.
Sweat beads my neck at the thought of what they demand, of what I’m expected to do, and I can’t help but swallow the small piece of steak that is threatening to come back up. I can’t show weakness here, on this threshold of doom where my fate might be decided.
The Crow King hasn’t moved an inch. Not away from me, but not toward me either. It almost feels like he’s waiting for me, but that can’t be right. He is the monster whose brides die within a year. A beaked, winged monster.
Feathers skim my bare skin as I shudder in his deadly embrace. I’m about to die. I’m about to?—
“I’m not going to hurt you, Wolayna,” King Myron whispers, “but if you don’t play along, you won’t survive the night. And I really want you to survive.” His breath tickles my skin with every word I am struggling to comprehend.
“Kiss the bride. Kiss the bride.”
He doesn’t flinch at the chants the way I do. Probably because he’s heard them ninety-nine times before. And ninety-nine times, his brides have died. The fact that I haven’t learned the slightest bit about why and how since I came to this Guardiansforsaken place doesn’t make it any better.
Instead of following their demand, he leans a tad closer to my ear, his mouth brushing my hair as he whispers even lower. “They want to see a kiss, so let’s give them one. And then I’ll close the door and be done with it.”
I’m so perplexed that I don’t even think of running when he loosens his magic on me and leans back to assess me with a lazy gaze. It’s such a vast change from the cold, cruel king of a few moments ago that I have trouble making sense of it.
“Ready?” he asks, and leans in, all traces of Crow gone from his face, leaving behind the handsome features of the male. From the corner of my eye, I see Royad nodding. I don’t know if he’s answering King Myron’s question or if he is answering it for me, but I feel a push of magic against my shoulder that feels lighter. Not as dark as the Crow King’s, and before I wonder if it could be Royad’s, my mouth collides with my husband’s, and the Crows erupt with cheers.
Shock freezes me in place, but before I can panic, the kiss is over and the door swings closed behind me, shutting out all sound and opening the view of what should have been a dance hall, judging by the size of it. But the deep blue silk sofas in front of the hearth below a huge mirror and the broad bed covered in night-blue silk inform me this is actually a bedroom.
I’m so surprised by the view that I don’t even notice that the Crow King has moved away from me, and his magic hasn’t snaked around me again. When I finally tear my gaze away from the candelabras scattered on the carved dresser, table, the mantle of the hearth, and the nightstand, I find him sitting in a wide armchair on the other end of the room, feathered arms draped over rolled armrests and gaze following me with curiosity.
I go completely still under his stare, under the silence leaking from him until it fills the entire room like a presence of its own. His features are entirely human smooth, fairy-handsome, pointed ears disappearing behind a curtain of black waves. He reaches up with one hand to open the top button of his vest, features turning grim as he leans back in his chair and braces an ankle on his knee.
His stare doesn’t lose intensity as I try not to crumble, not to turn back to the door and make a run for it. I can’t hear the other Crows for now, but the image of the wall of feathers and menace blocking my escape route hasn’t left my thoughts, and there is no way I’ll trade the silence in this room for certain death outside.
When the tension is about to tear me apart, heart pounding in my throat so hard it has become a hammering drum in my ears, I grasp the knife in the feathers of my skirts a little harder and face the Crow King. “Can I leave?”
It’s a loaded question because, optimally, I mean not only this room, but the palace, the forest, and the fairylands. But, of course, he shakes his head. “For this marriage to be accepted by my people, we need to spend the night together.”
Everything inside me recoils as my eyes drop to the feathers along his arms, and he notices, lips twitching downward even more. “Not the way you think. I already told you I won’t force myself on you. I have never once forced myself on a bride.”
