A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

14 PRISCA

Conreth arrived the night before our wedding. And he brought Jamic with him. Clearly, Jamic’s training had gone well. He’d regained some color in his face. He’d lost the haunted look in his eyes, and he no longer flinched at odd moments.

He’d also asked to see his mother. Lorian didn’t like it. Truthfully, neither did I. Kaliera was dangerous. But when Jamic had gravely requested to spend some time with her, I hadn’t had the heart to say no.

Lorian hadn’t been sure Conreth would be able to make it to these meetings, but the fae king could achieve almost anything when properly motivated.

And he wasn’t the type to allow everyone else to make war plans without his input— even with his generals and advisers speaking in his place.

Of the five wardens who ruled their individual territories within the fae lands— with Conreth as monarch—Thorn and Romydan had agreed to join us. Both had also fought with us to bring down the barrier.

Sylvielle, Caliar, and Verdion had not.

Now, Conreth brought welcome news. Sylvielle had finally agreed to fight with us. Caliar and Verdion had reinforced their refusal.

While the Arslan had ignored the summons from their king—something Conreth had told us through gritted teeth—we were hoping Rythos would finally be able to convince his father of the seriousness of our situation.

But today…today, I would attempt not to think of war—as much as one could while in the midst of it.

Because today was my wedding day.

Rekja had given us full access to his castle, instructing us to make the most of this day. I’d immediately handed all of the details over to Lorian, who had handed them over to someone else.

Conreth came to our rooms after we broke our fast.

Lorian and Conreth had an unspoken agreement to stay away from each other except for war strategy. If Lorian was surprised by Conreth breaking this agreement, he didn’t show it. But I caught the wariness in his eyes as he watched his brother.

Conreth turned to me. “I owe you an apology.”

Unfortunately, I wasn’t as used to hiding my expressions as Lorian. The corner of Conreth’s mouth tipped up.

“Me?”

“Yes. Because of my actions, you watched Lorian die in front of you.”

I flinched. I couldn’t help it. Just the words, and I was back on that ship. Lorian snarled at his brother, pulling me close.

“I’m fine,” I told Lorian, driving my finger into his ribs. He gave me a doubtful look but turned back to his brother.

“Because of me, you had to use your power in a way that was forbidden. And now, you can’t use that power,” Conreth continued. He attempted to keep his expression stoic, but it was clear he was bothered by this. At least, it was clear to me. Who knew what Lorian was thinking?

Conreth seemed to be waiting for me. I nodded.

“Lorian was correct. If we had worked together, I might have killed Regner’s general. Perhaps I might have even managed to kill your cousin. Instead, I allowed my fury and frustration to take over, playing right into Regner’s hands. You deserved better. Both of you.”

For the first time, I felt a tiny drop of hope. Perhaps one day, Lorian and Conreth would truly be brothers again.

“I would like to attend your wedding,” Conreth said. “I know I don’t deserve it. But I would like to watch my brother on one of the happiest days of his life.”

A lump began to form in my throat. I hadn’t realized Lorian hadn’t formally invited his brother to our wedding. I’d thought it was a given that he would be there, if only because he was an ally.

I glanced at Lorian. He was watching Conreth with a calculating look in his eyes.

Uh-oh.

“Yes,” I said.

“On one condition,” Lorian murmured.

Conreth’s expression turned guarded, but he nodded.

“I need Renit.”

Conreth’s brows drew together like two white caterpillars about to fight to the death. He opened his mouth, eyes firing at his brother.

But he paused, took a deep breath, and considered it.

I didn’t know what Renit was, but from the intensity in Lorian’s eyes, it was crucially important.

A tense silence claimed the room. Lorian’s expression was relaxed, his hands in his pockets. But I was relatively sure he was holding his breath.

Conreth’s mouth twisted. “Fine. Temporarily. Very temporarily.”

Lorian smiled, and he seemed lighter somehow. “In that case, brother, I will see you at the ceremony.”

Some of the tension disappeared from Conreth’s face. He nodded at both of us and walked out.

My gaze met Lorian’s. As much as I liked the thought of the brothers reconciling, I didn’t think Lorian bargaining with Conreth in order to allow him to attend our wedding was necessarily a step in the right direction.

“Trust me,” Lorian said, leaning close and nuzzling my ear as his hands began to wander. “You’ll thank me in a few days.”

Someone knocked on the door. I sighed, wishing we had time for those clever hands to continue wandering. Lorian let out a low growl, and I untangled myself from him. “That will be Telean.”

My aunt had insisted on working with Rekja’s seamstresses to create my dress. Likely, that had been what she had been whispering about with Lorian.

Clearly, she had decided we were taking too long to open the door, because she opened it herself before standing there silently, her hands on her hips.

A single wordless look was enough to reinforce her impatience. My chest lightened. Despite everything that had passed between us, she seemed willing to put our disagreement aside for today.

I gazed at Lorian. The next time I saw him…

“Go, wildcat. The quicker you get ready, the sooner you’ll be in my arms again.” He pulled me close, pressing a gentle kiss to my mouth. I soaked in the feel of him.

Telean cleared her throat, and I laughed against his lips.

“You better let me go.”

Lorian sighed, and I wiggled free, following Telean from our rooms, down the hall, and into hers.

My breath caught.

Three dresses hung near the window. Mine was a stunning amber, while she had chosen emerald green for Asinia and Madinia. Clearly, Lorian had told her I’d asked both of them to stand with me.

Looking at one of those dresses made disappointment curl in my gut. So, I focused on my dress. And on Asinia’s.

Telean crossed the room and stood next to them, watching me silently.

For all of her fury about the way I’d used my power to bring Lorian back, she’d clearly worked with him before he’d even asked me to get married here. And she’d chosen the colors of both of our eyes.

“They’re beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

She sighed. “I won’t apologize for the things I said.”

I flicked my gaze toward the dresses hanging like a silent apology.

She ignored me.

“I suppose you believe I am too old and bitter to know anything about love.”

I frowned at her. She’d made it clear how much she loved both Demos and me, even in her no-nonsense, gruff way. “No. I don’t think that at all.”

Reaching out a hand, she checked the hem of one of the green dresses, releasing it with a pleased hum.

“I had a great love once too. I don’t talk about him. I try not to think about him. And then I feel the guilt of that decision.” She smiled at me, and her eyes lit with a joy I’d never seen from her. “Yorin would be severely unhappy about that. The man was beautiful, and he knew it. He would have expected me to tell everyone of my loss.”

My lips curved, even as my chest ached for her. “What happened?”

“He died during the invasion. He was supposed to meet us—to escape with your parents. Instead, he went back in an attempt to protect a group of hybrid children. I didn’t learn of his fate until weeks later. Each day, I had woken with the hope that he would join us.” Telean’s expression turned lost, and for a moment, she looked much older than her years.

My throat clenched tight. “I am so sorry. He sounds like an incredible man.”

She nodded, her eyes bright with tears she refused to shed. “Even when I learned of his death and was forced to accept he had been gone for days…if there had been any way to bring him back-—no matter how forbidden—I would have done it. Without hesitation. Perhaps…perhaps that was why I was so hard on you. Because I knew I would have chosen the same path, and I know you will suffer for it.”

I had been forcing myself to block out the knowledge of what was coming. I believed Telean when she said the magic I had used was forbidden for a reason. And that the gods would demand a steep price for it. At first, I had assumed the price was the decimation of the hybrid camp. But… I knew there was worse to come. How long would Lorian be haunted by the dead? Would their presence slowly chip away at his sanity?

“Nelayra?”

I took a deep breath. “I…I saw my mother. When I turned time backward. And my grandmother.”

Telean’s eyes filled. And I told her everything. When I got to the part about the tiny lights they had given me, her mouth dropped open, until my voice trailed off.

“If not for that, I would think you had imagined it. That your air-starved mind had merely given you the hallucinations you needed in that moment.”

“What did they do?”

“You said pieces of yourself were…disintegrating.”

I nodded, and she sucked in a rasping breath. “You were losing your soul, Prisca. Your mother and grandmother gave you enough of their own to keep you alive.”

My mouth trembled, and I clamped down on it with my teeth, struggling to keep from bursting into tears. “Did… Do you think it hurt them?”

She gave me a shaky smile. “I don’t know. But they clearly believed this was the right choice. They obviously wanted you to return to your life and save the man you love.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Forgive me,” she said. “I miss your mother. She was my best friend. We were supposed to have centuries.”

My own eyes burned, and she shook her head, wiping away her tears. “Your power?”

“I still can’t feel it,” I admitted.

I didn’t say how useless I felt, in the midst of a war without my power. How it had killed me when Rekja had leveled me with that disbelieving stare while Tymedes waited to attack.

Telean sighed. “You are more than just your power, Prisca. Look at how much power Regner has. And look at what he has done with it.” My aunt cupped my cheek, smiling up at me. “Even if your power never returns, I have no doubt that you will be a glorious queen.”

I hadn’t known just how much I’d needed to hear those words from my aunt. I was still desperate for my power, but Telean had taken the worst of the ache from my bones. At least for today.

Telean smiled. “Enough of this for now. Today is a happy day. Now, let’s get you ready.”

The day Prisca helped us escape Regner’s dungeon, Demos had begun to change.

He didn’t just transform physically—although watching him eat three or four courses for each meal, his muscles straining against the seams of his clothes, had been…interesting.

No, he’d also changed in other ways. Those changes might not have been as obvious, but they were the important changes.

Gradually, he’d begun to let go of some of the bitterness I’d so often seen in Regner’s dungeon. The rage had transformed into a quiet peace—with occasional glimpses of his sly sense of humor. He still planned Regner’s murder with a single-minded focus that occasionally made even Lorian raise an eyebrow. But he’d seemed to find some measure of joy in life as well.

Tor’s presence… It had smothered that joy, strangled that humor, and turned any contentment into self-loathing. Gone was the wicked gleam in Demos’s eyes when he looked at me. Now, those eyes were blank, dark shadows beneath them.

I hated it. Hated that Tor had brought all of Demos’s guilt and self-contempt back to the surface. Hated that instead of talking to me, he was pulling away.

His conversations with Tor were short and clipped. The other man hadn’t attempted to rekindle their friendship, although I’d caught him staring at Demos occasionally while we traveled.

Now that we were in the castle, with plenty of room to avoid each other, Demos did exactly that. But Tor wasn’t the only one he avoided.

And gods, it hurt.

Pushing the thought from my mind, I pasted a bright smile on my face, making my way toward Prisca and Lorian’s rooms. This was my best friend’s day, and if she hadn’t yet noticed just how Demos was struggling, I wouldn’t be the one to point it out.

She deserved at least one day of true happiness.

Knocking on the door, I cracked it open, following the voices I could hear into one of the bedrooms.

Telean stood behind Prisca, fiddling with something in her hair, and when she stepped aside, I let out an audible gasp.

Prisca looked ethereal. Her long blond curls had been left loose, tiny white flowers woven into the strands. But it was the diadem she also wore that stole my breath.

I’d seen it once before—when she was preparing to meet with Eryndan. Prisca had been uncomfortable, still fighting against her role as hybrid queen.

The band was made from twisting white-gold vines and dotted with diamonds, while the emerald centerpiece dipped low, to the middle of her forehead.

Telean had obviously known this announcement was coming—and who Prisca would ask to stand with her, because she’d worked magic of her own, procuring dresses for Prisca, Madinia and me.

Clearly, no one had told Telean that Madinia had refused.

Prisca’s dress hung on the closet. It was a color I couldn’t name—not gold, not bronze, but something in between. Two other dresses hung close by, with flower crowns waiting on the vanity.

Once, long ago, Prisca and I had planned our weddings. I’d told her I would wear whatever she liked, so long as she crowned me with flowers.

Now, it seemed ludicrous. But even while we were at war, when this wedding would be nothing like she’d once imagined, Prisca had still remembered.

Telean nodded at the dress on the right. “Go on, then. Put it on so I can take a look.”

I complied, and Prisca’s eyes shone as Telean stepped behind me to button the silky material.

“It fits well,” Telean remarked, and I gazed in the mirror.

The dress was a dark green that shimmered when the light hit it. The material gently cupped my breasts, tucked in at my waist, and fell elegantly over my hips, the long train sliding fluidly across the floor.

I grabbed the flower crown and placed it on my head. Prisca grinned at me. “Happy?”

“Of course.”

Telean smiled at us. “You both look beautiful.” She was clearly being careful not to mention the other dress, still hanging nearby. Occasionally, I wanted to slap Madinia. But I hadn’t been there when that hybrid camp was attacked. And after what she’d said to Tor…

She was suffering.

“Now, I believe I’ll go find my seat.”

Prisca leaned down and kissed Telean’s cheek. “Thank you.”

Telean’s eyes gleamed, and she turned, bustling out.

“It feels like tempting fate to be this happy,” Prisca said. “To celebrate anything. But…in the days after Lorian asked me to marry him, I kept thinking about how Cavis should have been there with Rythos, Marth, and Galon. And I kept wondering who else wouldn’t make it to our wedding. If we would even get to be married.”

I took her hand. I hated that those were the thoughts she was thinking on her wedding day. “These moments are reminders, Pris. Reminders of what we’re fighting for. They give us hope. You’ve given us hope.”

Prisca squeezed my hand, her eyes glistening. “Thank you. And…I never got to thank you properly for keeping Demos alive.”

“You know you don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Yes. But I’m doing it anyway. Having both of my brothers so far away…it was awful. I had to actively force myself not to spiral, thinking about all the things that could go wrong. But knowing all three of you were together, and that you would keep one another safe…that was enough to get me through the fear.”

The door opened. I turned, meeting Madinia’s eyes. And I gave her a warning look. If she dared to upset Prisca today…

Madinia’s gaze slid past me. “I’ll do it,” she muttered. “I’ll wear the stupid dress. I’ll even wear…that.” Her nose wrinkled at the flower crown on my head, and I attempted to stifle my grin.

“Are you sure?” Prisca arched an eyebrow, her voice cool. “I wouldn’t want to force you to be my friend.”

Madinia curled her lip. Stalking to the vanity, she picked up the flower crown and shoved it on her head. It leaned drunkenly to one side. “Happy now?”

Prisca smirked. “You know, I am.”

Madinia looked like a cat who’d been dunked in a barrel of cold water. But her hands moved to the back of her tunic, and she pulled it over her head, further jostling the flower crown. I would’ve offered to help, but she likely would have snarled.

Her leather leggings were gone a moment later, and she reached for the dress Telean had designed for her, completely unconcerned by her nudity.

If I looked as incredible as Madinia did while naked, I would be unconcerned too.

Prisca’s mouth curved into a full-fledged grin. And then she reached for her own gown.

I held out my hand, and she gave me the gown to hold.

I didn’t know how Telean had accomplished it, but she’d managed to ensure the material matched the amber of Prisca’s eyes.

Prisca dropped her robe, displaying the glimmering bronze lace she wore beneath. “Well, well, well,” Madinia said, voice dripping with amusement.

Prisca’s cheeks reddened, but she winked at me as I held the dress for her to step into.

I stared hopelessly at the back of it. Even as a trained seamstress, I would need a moment to understand how the ribbons interconnected to hold the dress in place.

“Let me,” Madinia said, and for once, her voice was soft.

I stepped back as Madinia easily discerned which ribbon needed to cross in each place. The dress glowed, cascading down and clinging gently to Prisca’s form. The bodice, adorned with tiny, iridescent jewels, sparkled in an elaborate, swirling pattern. The neckline dipped low, while the gauzy layers of the skirt fluttered with her every step, falling in gentle, undulating folds to the floor.

Prisca turned, and I surveyed the back of the dress. It was daringly bare, save for the intricate ribbons that crisscrossed over her skin. Those ribbons played a tantalizing game of both highlighting and concealing, adding an element of mystique to the overall design.

It was, without a doubt, the most beautiful dress I’d ever seen.

Prisca wrapped her arm around each of us. It occurred to me now that other than Telean, no older women were here on this joyful day. No one to pass down wisdom about marriage or life or love.

All three of us were motherless. Was it easier for Madinia, who’d never had a mother? Or easier for me, who at least had my memories? Or perhaps it was easier for Prisca, who could mask her sorrow with rage at the only mother she’d known before she’d learned the truth.

Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I studied our reflection. We had each other. Even Madinia had suppressed her instincts to shove everyone away. At least for today.

Prisca’s thoughts seemed to be similar to mine, because her eyes met Madinia’s in the mirror. “I’m not sorry that you care, Madinia. Because when someone like you takes an interest…worlds change.”

Madinia sighed. Then she pushed a curl away from Prisca’s face and fussed with her hair. “You look breathtaking,” she declared. “Now, go marry that possessive fae before he comes in here and drags you out.”

Prisca laughed, and together, we walked out of the room. Outside, Demos and Tibris waited in the hall, both of them wearing perfectly fitting pants and jackets, their hair neatly combed. Demos… When I caught sight of him, my breath caught. I attempted to hide it with a cough, and Madinia gave me a knowing look.

Both of Prisca’s brothers held out an arm, and she stood between them, linking her arms with each of theirs.

Leaning over, I wiped the fresh tears from her face.

My eyes met Demos’s. His gaze slowly traveled from my feet, up the length of my gauzy dress, to the tops of my breasts, and lingered on my painted mouth. Finally, it reached my flower crown. His lips twitched.

I sent him a killing look and his smile widened, but he didn’t say a word.

Madinia went first, and I followed her along the hall and down a set of long, sprawling stairs. The doors at the bottom of the staircase had been flung open, and we stepped out and into the waiting carriage.

Prisca and Lorian had asked for only one thing—that their ceremony be in the forest, where they had spent so much time soon after they’d met.

All of us were quiet as the carriage left the city gates. Prisca seemed both nervous and oddly peaceful, her hands trembling while her eyes were calm.

Finally, the carriage stopped, and Madinia slid out.

I leaned over, squeezing Prisca’s hand. “I love you.”

She gave me a trembling smile. “I love you too.”

Someone began playing a breathtakingly haunting melody, and I stepped out of the carriage.

Sunlight flickered through the branches overhead, dancing across the grass, which had been carpeted with flower petals. The scent of earth mingled with the fragrance from countless wild flowers adorning the clearing, and the breeze teased my hair, fluttering the ribbons hanging from branches above our heads.

Madinia began her walk down the aisle, and I craned my neck, peering past her.

Lorian stood next to Marth, Rythos, and Galon. He shifted his gaze to his left, as if someone were standing on his other side.

My heart clenched. He was picturing Cavis next to him.

And I watched as his eyes gleamed with a flicker of amusement––as if his dead friend had made some pithy remark.

A hint of disquiet fluttered through me. Did Prisca know Lorian was walking the thin line between what was real and what…wasn’t?

I began my own walk. Lorian shifted on his feet, clearly impatient, and I grinned as his eyes met mine. He wore a deep midnight-blue coat that caught the light with every movement. Golden embroidery adorned the edges, while a vest of silken silver hugged his torso, its buttons gleaming like polished stars. Beneath both, he wore a crisp white shirt. His trousers were perfectly cut, the dark fabric complementing the splendor of the coat, and part of me wondered if Telean had paid him a visit to ensure the fit was perfect.

Madinia stepped to the side. But I was still watching Lorian as he glanced past me and his gaze landed on the love of his life.

Words failed to capture the essence of that look. My heart seemed too small to contain the joy that surged through me at the sight. It was a look of bewildered adoration and tenderness, as if Lorian couldn’t quite believe Prisca was his. The love was tempered with a healthy dose of possessive lust that made it clear he would do whatever it took to keep her.

Prisca beamed back at him. And in that moment, I could briefly forget about death and war.