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“No,” Draven replied. His voice carried easily. “It’s yours.”
All hell broke loose.
“Silence.” Sephone’s crystalline tone cut through the noise. “What is the meaning of this?”
Draven walked forward, passing the dais then pausing in the center of the room between Sephone and myself.
“Morgan Pendragon is not merely my paramour as I have led you all to believe.” His eyes rested on me. “She is also my wife.”
The words hit me like a shockwave, shattering my understanding.
My breath caught in my throat.
I touched a hand to Nightclaw's warm side, feeling as if the ground beneath my feet had disappeared.
My eyes searched Draven's face, scanning for any signs of jest or deception. But all I found was the cold, impassive expression of a stranger.
He believed what he had just said.
The realization crashed over me, leaving me gasping for air. My mind raced, trying to understand how the world could have turned so abruptly upside down.
“That's impossible.” I held up my hand to try to silence the crowd and raised my voice. “We are not married.”
Sephone’s eyes met mine with something like relief. “I was about to say the same thing. Prince Kairos, your recent illness has clearly addled your mind. If you are not fit to be crowned today, you should return to your rooms and rest. I’ll see that a healer is sent to you. We can continue this ceremony at another time.”
Draven smiled slightly. “I thank you for the consideration, but that won’t be necessary.” He turned to face the crowd. “My marriage to this woman did occur and it was indeed valid.”
“That’s impossible,” I hissed.
He ignored me. “Morgan Pendragon was gravely wounded in the Valtain ruins of Meridium. I reached her as she lay dying.”
All this was true. So far.
“All of the Siabra here know of the blood bond that once joined mated pairs,” he continued.
My heart hammered.
“The bond is everything. The blood is everything.”
“The blood bond has not been carried out in centuries,” Sephone interrupted. “It requires the grail to complete. We all know this.” Abruptly her eyes widened, as if she had remembered.
“Conveniently, Queen Regent, I possessed that, too. As you’ll recall, I brought the chalice back to you when I returned. It was used to conduct the opening ceremonies weeks ago. We all witnessed its presence that night.”
Draven’s words hung in the air, resonating with truth.
“A marriage cannot be conducted without the consent of both individuals,” I declared, casting my voice loudly to be heard. “What you’re describing is not a marriage.”
“Perhaps not a mortal marriage. Or even a Valtain marriage,” Draven agreed, his voice deceptively calm. “But as you know, Morgan, we Siabra have our own savage ways.”
The fucking bastard. I gripped Nightclaw’s fur, trying not to teeter where I stood.
“I did not,” I said through clenched teeth. “Consent to be married.”
“You did consent. With your blood. With your life–which I saved and restored to you. And furthermore, in the presence of an honorable and impeachable witness.”
“What witness?” I spat. “Where is this witness?”
“You’ll recall the presence of Odelna.”
