37. Keira
Chapter 37
Keira
I wake with a start, coated in cold sweat. Predawn light glows in the cracks of multiple shuttered windows. I sit up sharply and whip my head around, not understanding where I am. Then the memories of last night slam into me with such ferocity that it knocks the breath from me.
I stagger out of the four-poster bed that has delicate curtains tied back across the frame. My bare feet sink into a soft fur rug, and within a heartbeat, I’m at the windows, pulling back the shutters, one after another. The windows all have thick bars on them.There is no escape for me here.
I frantically open the drawers on the chestnut dressing table and the buffets in the dining room, and rummage through the wardrobe, but there is nothing I can use as a weapon. No bone hairpins. None of the knives are sharper than a butter knife. I can’t even find a vase or heavy book to throw at someone’s head.
This room is of pure opulence, with purple velvet couches, crystal chandeliers, and intricate tapestries and paintings on each wall. There are multiple gold-veined marble fireplaces, completely cold without pokers or logs. It is all useless to me.
The purpose of this apartment is abundantly clear. This is no dungeon, but I am still imprisoned.
The door bursts open and multiple guards peer in to leer at me before a team of servants rush inside, led by an older woman with gray-streaked black hair severely pulled up on her head.
“Lady Keira. My name is Marjorie, and it is my honor to get you ready for this day.” The head servant looks me up and down. “You look like you have seen better days. It will not do.” She takes me by the shoulders and forces me into a seat at a vanity table. I’m too tired to argue. “Where is that breakfast cart? You—make sure she eats something.”
I shove food I cannot taste into my mouth. A flurry of women set out beauty products across the bench of the vanity table, while others pull out clothes. The tangles are worked out of my long hair. Multiple servants labor to pile the curls high on my head. I stare blankly into the mirror as dozens of pins dig into my scalp. The updo stands almost a foot high, gleaming with strings of pearls. Then they apply powders to my face.
“Don’t you worry, dear. We will make you pretty for today. All you need to do is smile.” Marjorie waltzes past, patting my shoulder before shouting at more servants.
The way I look is the least of my problems. I need a way out of here. My mind whirls through possibilities. I need to talk to Prince Niall. Maybe Murdoc could use his position as head druid to help me. I have to get my magic back and find my brother, then we can open the portals.
Perhaps if I starve myself, if I hide my food so they don’t suspect it, then they can’t drug me again. But it will take time for the effect to lessen. There is no way out. None that I can think of.I bite my lip as my mind hits a wall.
“Stop that.” Marjorie slaps my arm lightly with a fabric fan. “You will ruin the color we put on your lips.”
A young servant takes my hands and makes me stand, then they pull layers of clothing over my body. A slip, a corset with boning that hardly allows me to breathe, and wide skirts with hoops. Then a heavy gown that is far too formal for parading me around the palace. Maybe the king is planning to hold court. If he thinks I’m going to play along nicely, he will be rudely surprised.
Marjorie walks around me in a circle, swatting bits of fabric into place, then she motions to her servants. They carry in a full-length mirror so I can examine myself. The dress is white. I don’t know what game Finan is playing, dressing me in the colors of a priestess. Perhaps he thinks I will renounce the Mothers of Magic before his court.
The sight before me is hideous.
There is dark rouge on my cheeks and my lips are painted pink, both contrasting badly against the fiery strands of my hair. The dress is of heavy silk, with plumes of lace draping over it. A series of thick, puffy frills encircle the sleeves that reach to my wrists, and the skirts are double-tiered, each layer ending in similar frills of lace. There are little silver flowers embroidered all over the entire miserable thing.
This must be a humiliation to break me.
I hold my chin high and straighten my back.
“Good. Good,” Marjorie says briskly, then the entire team of servants funnels out of the apartments as abruptly as they entered.
I collapse into an armchair and hold my head in my hands. Tears threaten, but I won’t cry. I refuse to give Finan the satisfaction of seeing me with smudged cosmetics or red eyes. Powerless, I cannot glamour them away.
That pool of deep warmth that has lived within my soul since I met Aldrin is gone. Dead, cold and out of reach. At times, I have been convinced it links me to him, but I cannot access it while they block my magic. Gods, I have never needed to hear his voice more. To have those thick, strong arms wrap around me and pin me to his hard chest while he nuzzles my neck.
The door crashes open and I jump to my feet, my heart racing. Guards flood into the room, enough to show that they still see me as a threat, even without my magic.The same man who forced me into this apartment last night takes me by the arm and tries to lead me firmly to the door. I rip it from his grasp and whirl on him.
“Where are you taking me?” My voice is low and full of menace.
He stares at me with torment, then at the other guards, running a hand across his brow. None of them will look me in the eye. They shuffle with discomfort, many pale. By the Soul Ripper, what is in store for me?
“The king wants it to be a surprise. You must understand we have our orders,” he says, as though it absolves him of responsibility. He reaches for me again and I smack his hand away.
“I will not go with you blindly,” I snap. “You will tell me right now where you are taking me.”
Another man enters the room, his heavy boots echoing on the marble. I glance over to Jaxon strolling through guards who part for him.
“It would be very inconvenient for us to have to bloody up your brother again, just to get you to take a stroll outside,” he growls. “Diarmuid, was it? He could hardly walk after we finished with him last night. A stubborn prick, that one. He has a broken nose and cracked ribs to go with his ego now.”
The fight drains from me. What harm is there in another damned stroll through the gardens with Finan? I allow the guards to lead me, giving them sharp looks and slapping away any attempts to touch me.
The crisp breeze and earthy scents are a salve for my soul. There isn’t another person to be seen, just tall evergreen trees and sculpted bushes. The path of glittering travertine stone winds through the greenery and small bridges span over a gurgling man-made stream. It would be pleasant, under different circumstances.
A page sees our approach and scurries away, releasing a heralding note from a small trumpet. The murmuring voices of an unseen crowd reach me through the trees and my heart skips a beat.
Finan is planning something.
My steps become hesitant as we reach a staircase that leads up a rise, but Jaxon tugs me ruthlessly upward by the arm. I try to fight him, clawing at his fingers, but I stumble in this stupid dress, and the guards around me catch and steady me multiple times. One mumbles an apology, again and again, everything about his manner absolutely distraught.
Alarm bells ring in my head.
I try to map out escape routes, glancing around rapidly, but there is nowhere to run and too many people to stop me if I try.
An orchestra starts playing with gusto the moment I reach the top of that staircase. I freeze. My very blood turns to ice as my mind shuts down. I know that song. Horror washes through me in waves, crashing hot and cold flushes across my skin.
Gods, no, this can’t be happening.
Not here.
Not with Finan.
My lips quiver as despair drags me down. I think I would prefer death over this.
I back away, but Jaxon pushes me forward. I want to scream, but it gets stuck in my throat. A wild, desperate need for survival overtakes me, and I turn and slam into the broad wall of the guard’s chest, beating it with my fists, attempting to dart around him. Jaxon spins me on my heel and pushes me forward again.
My brain finally accepts what my eyes are showing me. A large, open-air pergola stands at the end of a path, draped with gauzy white fabric and arranged with flowers. The aisle leading to it is strewn with a layer of white petals so deep that the stone beneath is no longer visible. On either side are pews of gawking nobility.
Dead ahead of me, Finan stands in his finery, before an altar.
He didn’t have me dressed as a priestess to renounce my vows.
I am dressed as a bride. His bride.
I want to vomit. To run and run and never look back. I search frantically for an escape, but the way back down the stairs is blocked by rows of guards and the rest of this hilltop is fenced in. I am trapped here, in this nightmare.
Jaxon’s large hand wraps around the base of my skull and forces the direction of my gaze. “Look closely. Do you see your brother up there, with your betrothed?”
My stomach bottoms out. Diarmuid is there, beside the bride’s empty space at the altar, with a knife held to his throat by a guard. The man shakes him for emphasis. My brother’s face is mottled with bruises, and he stands slightly hunched from the pain of his broken ribs.
If I don’t do this, they will kill him.
Finan is insane and impulsive enough that he would destroy the leverage he has over me in an instant, then find someone else to threaten me with.Brianna or Caitlin or my mother.
I take a step forward on shaky legs as the music loops back around and starts from the beginning. It is like I walk through water; like I am in another woman’s body, and this isn’t my fate. It couldn’t possibly be. I’m meant to marry Aldrin. To live my life with him. I so badly want to call to him, but I don’t want him to see this. To witness my shame.
I need someone to save me.
To whisk me out of here.
Anyone.
I glance frantically from side to side, trying to find an ally in the crowd, but their eyes slide away from mine and into their laps. A tear slides down my face as my slow paces bruise the white petals underfoot, marking them with black veins. Somehow, my steps eat up the distance between myself and Finan all too quickly.
I think my heart will give out from breaking as I arrive at that altar and Finan grabs my hand. He pulls me so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek, and I shudder. It’s like bugs crawl all over my skin, and I want to scrape it off, flesh and all. Another tear slips down my cheek and his eyes narrow on it, then on my wobbling lips.
He twists my wrist so hard I let out a whimper. “If you protest, if you speak a single word that makes the people here think you don’t want this, I will kill your brother, then I will send a horde of soldiers through the priestesses’ portals to Appleshield and take your little sister.”
Finan loosens the pressure on my arm, but doesn’t drop it.
“Put a smile on your face. In time, you will realize you want this as much as I do. That this has always been your fate. You just need a heavy hand to guide you.”
My lips curl in a snarl. “I will never want your touch. I will never love you.”
Finan’s thumb gently brushes circles on the skin of my wrist. “We will see about that.” He places a kiss on my hand, then looks me up and down, taking a step back to get a full view. Tenderness blooms in his eyes. “You look beautiful in my mother’s wedding dress.”
The world spins as the druid behind the altar speaks. The ceremony is officiated by the king’s head adviser, Murdoc, who I thought was on my side. Maybe he is only interested in aiding Prince Niall and saving the realm from a mad king, and won’t get his hands dirty or ruin his cover to protect an insignificant woman like me.
He gives me an apologetic look. There is a tightness in his shoulders and at the corners of his eyes that makes me wonder if he is as powerless in this as I am.
“Where is Prince Niall?” I whisper to Diarmuid at my side.
He visibly shakes with rage and grits his teeth. One eye is almost shut from swelling and purple bruising. “The prince tried to gather support against this marriage, but it all happened too quickly. He didn’t know we had been abducted until this morning. Niall is imprisoned while the king decides if his actions are treason. Apparently, he locks his brother up on these charges regularly, then drops them.”
No one is coming to save me. Neither Aldrin nor my father is going to run up those stairs with an army at their back and stop this wedding. They probably don’t even know I have been taken.
Murdoc drones on, but I can’t follow the words. The erratic drumming of my heart is the only thing I can hear. Finan snaps at the druid to get to the vows and before I know it, I am repeating Murdoc’s words in a daze.
Aldrin was supposed to be my husband. My first, my last, my only husband, not this imposter of a man standing before me.
Half-hearted cheers rise from the crowd, but a strangled sound leaves Diarmuid’s throat. Tears spill from his eyes as he looks at me with such devastation.
I want to cry.
To rage.
To whip up my magic, burn this place to ashes, but I am far too stunned to react.
Finan has a huge smile on his face as he pulls me to him and I stumble limply. He places his hands on either side of my face and crushes a brief kiss to my lips, then he drags me back down the aisle. The witnesses stand and clap, throwing more petals at us as we move by.Their motions are mechanical, smiles forced too wide and eyes in shock.
A ring of guards surrounds us as we leave the hilltop and I am rushed to the palace again. Finan’s clutch on my arm never weakens, and his fingers dig painfully into my flesh. I hardly notice the ornamental gardens that fly by us or the riches of the palace. All too soon, we are approaching my apartments, and my mind is screaming at me to run.
A guard pushes me into the room, and I almost trip on the heavy skirts, taking multiple steps to right myself. The others make jeering remarks and pat Finan on the back as he enters behind me.
Then they seal the two of us in here.
There is a predatory glint in Finan’s eye as he stalks toward me. “You are my wife now.”
I back up. “Don’t you dare touch me!”
His eyes flare, as though he thought that ceremony would make any difference in winning me over. “You will fall in line. I expect certain things of my queen.”
My entire world shatters at those words.
I was never meant to be his queen.
I circle around him as he advances. “Then you should have married someone else. Someone willing.”
“It has always been you for me, Keira.”
I feint to one side, and he launches out to catch me, but I dart in the opposite direction, running from him. Finan curses, pursuing me from the sitting room into the miniature library.
This apartment is circular, so I can run and run from him, but I will still have nowhere to go. I twist my ankle as I frantically search for a book heavy enough to hit him with, but my motion comes to a sudden stop as the dress pulls me back.
I glance over my shoulder at the smug smile on Finan’s lips. His boot stands on the fabric of my train. He picks up the entire thing and loops it around his arm until he is standing right in front of me.
“Just give in to it, Keira,” he murmurs, leaning close to me, eyes focused on my lips.“I promise you will enjoy it. Just like you used to.”
I punch him in the face, wiping the damned smirk off it, but the dress is too restrictive and it pulls the force from my blow. He opens his mouth to say something, and I stomp hard on his foot.
Gods, I want to knee him in the groin hard enough that he will have no hope of using it, but the wide hoops of this skirt get in the way. I shove at his chest, pull his hair, and fight tooth and nail to keep his hands off me.
Finan finally grabs me by the shoulders and slams me against the bookshelf, lust darkening his eyes as he presses his body against me. “I think I might like it rough. You have so much passion, my queen.”
A shudder runs down my spine. “Are you a rapist as well, on top of everything else?” I spit.
His entire body turns stiff, then he drops his hold on me and steps back. Finan’s face is pale as he frowns at me.He has truly lost his grip on reality if he has only now realized I don’t want to sleep with him. That I don’t need more convincing or a bolder pursuit.
“You will find your way back to me,” he says with conviction. “As soon as the fae’s enchantments wear off. Maybe I will kill your fae lover, and then you will see there is no one else for you.”
Finan turns on his heel and leaves the room. I jolt as the door slams shut. My body turns to jelly and I slide down the bookshelf at my back until I collapse into a heap on the ground.
I hold my head in my hands for a long time, not caring about the bones of the corset digging painfully into my ribs, or the way the layers of fabric make me sweat. I am drowning in lace and silk.
The only way for me to end this marriage is for Finan to die.