A Queen This Fierce and Deadly (Kingdom of Lies)

15 PRISCA

Lorian’s eyes met mine, and I lost the ability to breathe.

I’d seen so many expressions on his face when he looked at me. Irritation, humor, bemusement, lust, a love so deep it made me question if I could ever be worthy of such adoration.

But now, he looked at me as if I was the last star left in a sky filled with darkness. He looked at me as if he was drowning and I was the only one who could give him air. It was a desperate, possessive, love-stricken look.

And I was pretty sure I was gazing at him the exact same way.

My heart had been galloping in my chest, my hands shaking. But the moment our eyes met, all nerves faded away, until there was only room for joy.

I was already mated to this man, and I was beginning to understand just how deep that bond went. But he’d wanted to give me this. A ceremony that told me without a doubt that he was mine and I was his. Across every kingdom. Throughout every world.

Galon had agreed to marry us. And it felt right that the man who’d been Lorian’s father in every way except blood—and the man who’d saved my life that day by the river—would be the one to make us husband and wife.

He said something that made everyone laugh, but I was too busy staring at Lorian. He gazed down at me, that half smile on his face, and my heart flipped in my chest.

Galon raised his voice. “Today, we gather here during a time of war to celebrate one of the great milestones of life. I have been blessed by the gods to have witnessed Lorian and Prisca’s love since the moment they laid eyes on each other. Although…both would have sworn to all of the gods that love was the very last thing they could have imagined feeling.”

Galon was usually a man of few words. But today, he told our friends, family, and allies the kinds of stories that made them roar with laughter.

From the time Lorian caught me attempting to steal his horse, to the time I finally managed to use my power on him by the river—and slammed my knee into his balls. Galon had clearly spoken to some of the others as well since he was sure to mention how jealous Lorian had become while watching me dance with another man in Regner’s castle.

Tears filled my eyes as his stories reminded me of the way Lorian had stayed at my bedside when I was poisoned. Of the way he’d relentlessly bullied me until I emerged from the shell of fear and apprehension and self-doubt. Lorian had seen the truth within me—that I was strong and determined, and that I didn’t have to let my past determine my future.

“Like the ancient trees surrounding us, your love will endure times of storm and serenity, weathering the fiercest winds of adversity, and enjoying the gentle breezes of peace,” Galon said.

“Your love will prevail through times of sun and frost, basking in our warmest, brightest days, and enduring the icy touches of our hardest nights.

“And your love will stand strong through drought and abundance, through parched summers and bountiful springs, growing deeper with each passing year.”

Galon handed the marriage bracelet to Lorian. “And so you shall vow.”

Lorian took my hand, and the feel of the warm strength of his palm beneath mine seemed to settle something deep within me.

He stared intently into my eyes. “I vow to be the roots that ground you, the branches that help you reach for your dreams, and the shelter that forever keeps you safe. I will love you in every life.”

My lips trembled, but I managed to swallow past the lump in my throat, repeating his words. My voice cracked on the last sentence, and Lorian pulled me close.

“Not yet,” Galon said. As usual, Lorian ignored him, gently pushing the bracelet over my hand until it encircled my wrist. The magic woven into the metal instantly shrank the bracelet until there was just enough room for my wrist to be comfortable, but it could only be removed with tools.

“Fine,” Galon said with a wave of his hand that made everyone laugh. “Just as you are mated, so shall you be wed. I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may…”

More laughter.

I barely heard it, because my head was whirling as Lorian’s mouth met mine. I soaked in the feel of him. The taste of him. The scent of him.

He let out an exultant laugh, pulling me to him and spinning me around until all I could do was hold on, my chest lighter than air.

Prisca was my wife. She was also my mate. She was my everything.

I barely tasted the wedding feast Rekja had provided, too busy focusing on the way Prisca beamed as well-wishers approached. She licked her lips, and my gaze caught on her mouth.

A cheery tune began playing, the musicians drawing couples from their tables. Rekja had even managed to arrange for music on such short notice. I owed him my gratitude.

Catching Prisca’s hand, I brought her knuckles to my mouth. Her eyes met mine, and I basked in her attention.

“Dance with me, wildcat.”

She smiled at me, allowing me to lead her from the table. Several people had been approaching from various directions. I sent them a warning look, and they immediately found someone else to talk to.

Prisca squeezed my hand until I glanced back at her. “Are you terrifying our guests during our wedding feast?”

I gave her my most charming smile. “I missed you.”

“I was sitting right next to you.”

“You were looking at other people.”

Her laugh rang out, and I drew her to the far edge of the tent, close to the musicians. When the music turned slow, I pulled her into my arms, kissing my way up her smooth, warm neck.

She let out a hum, tipping her head back, and I caught her lips with mine.

Gods, the taste of her.

I forced myself to lift my head, almost throwing her over my shoulder when her glazed eyes met mine.

“Are you happy?” I murmured.

She grinned up at me. “I’m so happy, I feel as if we got away with something we shouldn’t have. This feels like a dream.”

The music ebbed and flowed as couples danced around us. I drew her even closer, and she nestled her head on my chest. Pride swelled within me. Not long ago, the thought of being tender with anyone was unfathomable. The thought of risking my heart, untenable. Now, it was the thought of being away from this woman for even a few days that seemed unbearable.

“You clawed your way under my skin, wildcat.”

She angled her head, smirking up at me. “You deserved it. You were so grumpy and mean with your orders and threats.” She gave a mock shiver. “Very scary.”

I leaned down and kissed the shell of her ear, enjoying the way her breath caught. “You had no problem standing up to me.”

“Oh, there were problems,” she muttered, laughing when I nipped her ear.

“Hey, darlin’,” Rythos said behind us. “Can I cut in?”

Ignoring him, I nuzzled Prisca’s cheek. She pinched me.

I heaved a sigh. “Fine. But then we’re leaving. I’m tired of everyone talking and looking at you. I want you to myself.”

“Possessive man.”

I stepped away, but not before giving Rythos a warning look. He would never attempt anything with Prisca. But it was good to remind him of the immediate consequences, just in case he ever lost his sanity.

Both of them rolled their eyes.

I stepped away, prepared to at least find something to drink if I couldn’t dance with my own wife at my own wedding.

“Pouting, brother?”

Conreth gazed at me, hands on hips. For once, his words didn’t carry any true animosity or mockery. His eyes danced, inviting me to join him.

Despite the people clamoring for Prisca’s attention, I was in a good mood.

“Rythos,” I grumbled, and Conreth grinned, handing me a drink.

“Thanks.”

We watched them dance for a moment. Rythos said something to make Prisca laugh, her smile lighting up the entire room.

“You seem happy,” Conreth murmured.

“I am.”

“If that ever changes…”

Our eyes met. His expression was casual, but I saw the offer for what it was. He was saying I could come back. That everything could return to the way it was.

I stared straight into his eyes. Our father’s eyes.

“An accident of birth made me a fae prince. And I gave up that title because I could never have stayed by Prisca’s side otherwise. I regret nothing.”

He frowned. “You say that now. Titles aren’t meaningless, Lorian.”

I shrugged. “I was a fae prince, and now I’m Prisca’s mate and husband. I know which titles mean more to me. Which titles I wear with pride and will until the day I die. Besides, she has a title of her own.”

“Her title as the hybrid heir?”

“No.” I bared my teeth. “Mine.”

After a long moment, Conreth offered me a smile. “You have something special. Thank you for allowing me to be here today.”

I nodded. I didn’t point out that I was getting something in return, and Conreth chose not to mention it either.

But his hand slid to his neck. And I tensed as he slowly removed one of the amulets, holding it out to me.

“What are you doing?”

“It doesn’t make strategic sense for me to have both of them.”

“So give one of them to a fae you trust.”

“You are a fae I trust.”

“My loyalty is to the hybrids.”

He gave me a faint smile. “Yes. But we are still allies. This proves such a thing to any of our people who might doubt the strength of that alliance.”

Slowly, I took the amulet, pulling it over my head, where it pulsed warmly.

“Fine.”

Conreth’s smile widened at my curt tone.

Asinia walked past, her expression unreadable. I watched her. Everyone Prisca cared about was mine now too. That had been the case for a while now, but today, it felt even more important.

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said.

Conreth replied, but I was already striding away, grabbing Asinia’s hand.

A warm hand clasped mine. For a moment, my heart leaped.

But it wasn’t Demos.

“Are you happy, Asinia?” Lorian guided me back toward the musicians, seamlessly transitioning me from the direction I’d wanted to travel to the direction he chose.

He was waiting for me to reply. This seemed like an unusual conversation for Lorian’s wedding day. Still, I supposed we were all leaving tomorrow. We no longer had the luxury of waiting for the right time. For anything.

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “Prisca considers you to be her sister. That makes you mine as well.”

Despite the strangeness of this conversation, I smiled. “Don’t you have enough people to manage, Lorian?”

From the arrogant arch of one eyebrow, he likely believed there were no limits to the people he could manage. I laughed.

Lorian spun me, but he was still waiting. “I’m… I…I feel like happy isn’t the right word. I feel so many emotions right now, all of them constantly warring within me. On days like today, a word like happy seems almost…tepid. What I feel today is a kind of defiant joy. It’s a feeling that lies. A feeling that whispers that everything is going to work out. Because how could it not?” I waved my hand to encompass the area where everyone was dancing.

Both of us turned to watch the others.

Prisca was beaming up at Rythos—right before Demos and Tibris cut in—one on each side—and swayed with her to the music. Until Demos said something that made all three of them howl with laughter. Nearby, Daharak and Madinia were drinking copious amounts of wine and…cackling.

One of Daharak’s pirates had dragged Marth toward the dancing, and he peered down at her as she gave him a bawdy wink.

Rythos had joined Galon, and together, they watched Marth with wide smirks on their faces. Everywhere, fae and hybrids and humans danced and ate and laughed together—a glimpse of what the future could look like if we won this war.

“Today, we’re creating memories,” I said around the lump in my throat. “Memories we can hide away and cherish. Memories we can take out and examine as we march toward battle. Memories that might briefly keep us warm on the loneliest, coldest nights if we lose all of this.” Lorian’s gaze burrowed into me, and I shrugged self-consciously. “I’ve heard… I’ve heard that when you die, your memories make the dying a little easier. That those memories play through your mind and give you some comfort. If that’s true, and the fates decide it is my time, I hope those memories include this day.” I waved my hand again, before moving it back to Lorian’s shoulder.

He let out a hum, but it didn’t sound like agreement.

“When you… Did you…”

His mouth twitched. “When I died, did I see my memories?”

My face flamed. “Right. Prisca turned back time. So you wouldn’t remember.”

“That’s not entirely true.” Amusement flickered through his eyes, and I realized my mouth had fallen open.

“What happened?” I breathed.

His expression turned serious. “One moment, Prisca was running toward me, and then my vision turned white. I caught sight of Cavis’s face, briefly. But it was immediately followed by Prisca. She was all I saw. All I wanted to see. And then the next thing I knew, we were in the water. I have no recollection of the dying itself. But I know I felt regret. So much regret.” He paused, his brows lowering. “I think that has to be the worst part about dying. Leaving the people you love and regretting.”

It was the most Lorian had ever said to me, and I considered his words. He turned us again, his gaze flicking behind me and firing with that possessive light. I didn’t need to glance over my shoulder to know who he was looking at.

He met my eyes once more. “I don’t think it’s the memories of your life that you see when you die. I think it’s the people you’ll miss the most. The people who made your life worth living. And sometimes, if you’re lucky, you see the one person you would defy the fates and stay for—if you could.” He gave another languid shrug, but his eyes turned intent, the light dancing across high cheekbones and pointed ears. “Thankfully, you don’t need to preoccupy yourself with such thoughts of death. You won’t experience it for a very, very long time.”

That seemed unlikely, given the current state of this continent. I raised one eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“Prisca needs you.” He gave me a teasing grin, and I marveled at the sight of it. Just months ago, I would have laughed at the idea of seeing such a happy, relaxed expression on his face. “Besides, I quite like the thought of having a sister,” he mused. “That means you will live a long, happy life.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but grin back at him.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go reclaim my wife.”

I smiled. “If I were you, I’d sneak her out of here.”

“Planning to.” He stalked away.

Since Demos obviously wasn’t going to ask me to dance—and I ignored the pang of hurt that thought caused—I held my head high, walking toward the edge of the tent—and the forest beyond it.

“Where are you going?” Tibris stepped in front of me.

“I want some air.”

“Dance with me first.”

I heaved a sigh. “Is this a pity dance?”

“Yes. Herne isn’t here. Take pity on me.”

I grinned at Tibris. He knew what I’d meant. But I took his hand anyway, allowing him to lead me back toward the music.

“I…questioned this, when Lorian announced it,” he said. “It seemed almost ludicrous to celebrate anything when we’re about to go to war. But as usual, he was right.” Tibris rolled his eyes.

I laughed. “It helps that I’ve never seen Prisca so happy.”

Tibris shifted us so we could both watch Prisca laughing up at Lorian as he snatched her hand. “Gods, I hope they get a future,” he said. “I hope we all do.”

“We will. We have to believe that, Tibris.”

Nearby, Rekja spun Thora, and she nimbly ducked beneath his arm, swaying her hips as she caught the beat of the music.

“You think he’ll marry her?” Tibris asked, following my gaze.

“I think if he doesn’t, he’s an idiot.”

Tibris tensed. I hadn’t realized he was that close to Rekja. But my eyes followed his gaze and locked on the man stumbling in through the open doors, two Gromalian guards close by.

My heart thundered in my chest, and my cheeks suddenly ached from my grin. Immediately, Tibris and I were walking toward the group.

Vicer was bruised, thin, and covered in dirt and old blood. A woman followed him into the ballroom, hair tangled, clothes in the same condition. She looked so uncomfortable, so entirely miserable, that I was relatively sure I knew who she was.

Vicer looked around the ballroom as if he was struggling to understand. Heads were turning, and Demos appeared next to him, slapping him on the back as he murmured something I couldn’t hear.

Vicer seemed like he hadn’t heard him. He still looked stunned.

The musicians clearly sensed something was wrong, because they stopped playing. And Vicer’s words carried over the crowd.

“You’re…celebrating?”

Prisca whirled. Her eyes widened and flooded instantly as she hurried toward him. “Vicer. You’re alive.”

He waved his hand at the celebration. “What is this?”

“Our wedding,” Prisca said carefully. “Since we will all need to separate tomorrow, Lorian and I decided to get married now.” She scanned him, shifting from bride to queen. “We have a lot to talk about.”

Vicer nodded absently. He looked vaguely shocked, as if all the sights and sounds were too much for him.

“And who is this?” Lorian asked, nodding toward the woman.

“Stillcrest and I made a deal,” Vicer said, seeming to come back to himself. “I bring her to you, and she never speaks to me again.”

Stillcrest flinched, immediately attempting to hide it within a shrug. But everyone had caught it.

“And why would you want to see me?” Prisca asked the woman, her expression as cold as I’d ever seen it.

Stillcrest took a step closer. And then Marth was there. “Careful,” he snarled.

I doubted Stillcrest was attempting to assassinate anyone, but I could see the wisdom of watching her closely.

“I come to join your army. To fight by your side. If you’ll have me. There is nothing I can do to remove the stain on my soul from the choices I have made.” Her chin wobbled, and she managed to firm it, meeting Prisca’s eyes. “No way to bring back the innocents lost through my own audacity. But I ask that you allow me to fight with you to make those who took their lives regret their actions.”

Prisca’s eyes burned. It was rare for her to show her fury these days. She was learning to control her expressions. She stalked close to Stillcrest…

And slapped her across the face.

Stillcrest’s head whipped to the side, her cheek stained red.

I jolted, taking a step forward automatically. I didn’t know exactly what I was planning to do, but Lorian and Marth had done the same thing.

And then Prisca wrapped her arms around the woman responsible for the deaths of hundreds of hybrids.

Kaelin Stillcrest lowered her head to Prisca’s shoulder and cried like a baby.

My breath shuddered from my lungs, and my eyes burned. I understood.

Kaelin wasn’t going to forgive herself. She wouldn’t have believed Prisca’s forgiveness or respected her if she hadn’t shown some sign of her displeasure. The slap was a public humiliation that said everything that needed to be said. Prisca didn’t need to tear into her with harsh words. The woman was clearly doing that to herself every moment of every day.

The slap was the displeasure of a queen who knew Stillcrest wanted to feel some kind of punishment.

But the hug…

Thatwas my best friend. The girl who had sat next to me on the roof of the bakery in our village as we made our own clumsy blood vow. The woman who had tricked her way into Regner’s castle and saved me from certain death. The person who loved those around her with such intensity, the thought of them in pain was intolerable to her.

And even though part of me felt Stillcrest deserved worse—deserved to be turned away, her offer of help denied…

Prisca released Stillcrest, who wiped at her eyes, her head low. “I believe there are a few rooms left near our chambers,” Prisca said with a glance at Rekja, who gave her a nod.

Stillcrest bowed her head, sidling away. But she raised her gaze, staring defiantly at anyone who glowered at her.

“How could you consider forgiving her?” Demos bit out.

“I’m not forgiving her,” Prisca sighed. “Not truly. But it’s not my place to punish her either. I could have been Stillcrest, Demos. I’ve made decisions in this war that have cost people their lives. I’ll likely do it again. And again. And despite my desire to blame her for what she did, I’m the hybrid queen. That camp was my responsibility, and I failed. What kind of hypocrite would I be to turn her away now?”

There was no use telling Prisca the camp wasn’t her responsibility. I understood her reasoning, even if I disagreed with her logic.

Demos shook his head. But he clearly knew he wasn’t going to change her mind about Stillcrest.

“I don’t want to argue,” Prisca said, and her voice was low. “Let’s just enjoy every moment we have together. Please.”

Demos slung an arm around her shoulders and rolled his eyes at Tibris, who grinned at him.

The musicians resumed playing, and Lorian swept Prisca into his arms once more. Demos murmured a few words to Vicer, who nodded, yawned hugely, and wandered away in the same direction Stillcrest had gone.

Demos’s eyes met mine, and he stepped closer.

“Dance with me.”

I wanted to make some pithy remark about how he’d suddenly remembered I existed. But he was finally looking at me, and the way he was looking at me prevented me from being able to say anything at all.

The musicians switched to a slower song, and Demos pulled me close. My heart ached. When I pictured my future—if we all got to have one—it was this man who I could see by my side.

But…something in him had broken. And I didn’t know if it could be repaired. Because I was relatively sure he didn’t want it to be repaired.

His nostrils flared. And then he gave me one of those looks. The look that left me trembling at night. Yearning for him.

Not that I’d ever let the stubborn bastard know that.

“Why did you volunteer to come with me, Asinia?”

I tucked away the anguish that he would even ask that question after the kiss we’d shared. Perhaps what I’d thought was a life-changing kiss had meant nothing to a man as handsome as Demos. He’d likely had women tripping over themselves to kiss him before he was imprisoned. I was merely the one who’d been with him since Regner’s dungeon.

And so, I didn’t answer his question. Because I wasn’t sure my heart could take the vulnerability of it. “Why did you allow me to come with you?”

His lips tightened. “Because I want you where I can see you. Alive.”

“I want everyone in this ballroom to stay alive, Demos. If that’s truly the depth of your feelings for me, then that’s all I need to know.”

I attempted to shove my way out of his arms. His grip on me tightened. But then he let me go.

I turned and walked away.