Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
ALLIE
T he music in the courtyard swelled as I appeared at the end of the aisle in all my rehearsed glory, every crystal note a countdown to disaster.
Spine straight, shoulders back, I plastered the proudest smile on my face and ignored the rapid patter in my chest.
I was Evie’s representative in this sham of a ceremony and I would play my part well.
The courtyard looked like it had bloomed, flowers tied to every chair, clouds of ribbons strewn between the tree branches, silver-stemmed glasses raised high in the air.
All this spectacle had barely been a drop in the Serpents’ neverending supply of gold, but our coffers were already thinned to the limit.
All that wine, each sweet-scented rose, the feast waiting after the ceremony. Everything had cost more than we could afford.
There was no changing that–the meat had been roasted, the wine cellar pillaged–but I could save Evie.
Never let them see you waver, Grandpa Constantine’s voice trickled in my ear.
If the leader faltered, the Clan trembled.
Nothing in this world was worth that risk.
Smiles greeted me from the Protectorate side, while sneers and curled lips acknowledged my presence from the Serpents’ emerald seats.
I ignored the painted peacocks and their bejeweled lapels, focusing on the sea of blue grins.
Tanthe Issabela “Issa” blinked at me from behind her thick-rimmed spectacles and fluttered her feather fan my way.
She made a wobbly move to stand, before her granddaughter Violetta gently stopped her.
I cared deeply for Issa, but this was not the time or place for me to listen to her poached fish recipe for the twenty-fifth time.
Thanto Mano tipped his pointed hat my way, white moustache bristling with a mouthed “Thank you”, as he always did when he saw me.
The Protectorate First Family had paid for his young sister’s quarters at the Academy, a dream of hers even before she’d become a young widow and single mother to six rowdy children.
Orion nodded my way as his right hand draped over his wife’s shoulders. His very pregnant wife, who gingerly cradled her growing belly.
“Congratulations,” I mouthed her way, offering her my first open smile of the day.
I cared for my people.
That didn’t mean I liked all of them.
I’d had enough of Danno complaining about his lesser seat at the feasts, as if his family had done anything for the Clan other than brag about having a residence in Aquila–bought under suspicious circumstances five generations ago–or Tanthe Aglae’s pinched nose rising in the air whenever she saw me with my bow and arrows, remarking about the proper place for women–even the one who would lead her.
But I had a duty to them all; though I’d wished some would go trouble anyone else with their constant nonsense. As long as they called themselves Protectorate and their hearts beat true, loyal blue, they were mine to protect.
That sentiment did not extend in the slightest to Evie’s future husband.
Fabrian Bazin–and whatever other equally pompous, secret names he’d been bestowed with to protect him from curses–was truly a dung of a human.
A vicious, powerful dung that could turn on his charm to disarm, but there was always that spark of malice in his beady eyes. Many had fallen under the spell of his silken voice and many, many more had ended at the tip of his sword.
Well, his advisor’s sword.
Fabrian didn’t bloody his own hands.
The Protectorate spies had uncovered everything about his sordid, depraved ways, but nobody had managed to figure out why, in all of Malhaven, he wanted to marry Evie. Our Evie.
I set my glower on him as my heels quickly ate up the distance to the altar.
Fabrian didn’t shy away, meeting my stare head-on, like he could already tell a storm was coming.
I stopped by his side, behind the vases filled with flowers to beckon good luck and happy memories in the future marriage. Their sweet perfume covered the stench of alcohol on Fabrian’s breath.
Fabrian huffed with an oily grin. “You always have to make an entrance.”
And so the game began.
I’d met enough Clan heirs to know that whenever two of us breathed the same air, any discussion got competitive. Barbs, jabs, snide and cutting remarks alike, everything went.
And not only did I like to win, but I had to best Fabrian today. I rolled my shoulders back and unfisted my palms.
“Says the man wearing snakeskin lapels,” I said.
Gods, he reeked of leather, cloves, and something so musky, it must’ve come from an animal’s behind. But nothing could hide the smell of stale wine.
Fabrian was the embodiment of depravity, but even he must have known drinking himself into a stupor at his own wedding was the quickest way to embarrass his Clan.
Perhaps he was just that shameless.
Or maybe he tried to hide something more sinister.
Knowing the enemy was the first step to triumph.
“Nervous, Fabrian?” I asked, keeping my voice sickly sweet as I paid more attention to this man than he ever deserved.
“Nervous you might topple over me with those damn stilts you’re wearing. If you wanted to lord over all of us, Huntress, there are easier ways than making yourself disgustingly taller.”
“These are hunting boots, Fabrian. Which you would have known if you’d ever bothered to ride a horse without falling off it.
” Easier for my feet to hold onto the stirrups while I rode–and, yes, they helped me stand up straighter and taller.
It was easier to command when you looked the part, especially among the proud and slow-minded.
“But you probably didn’t have the time, too busy with drinking, whoring, and general mayhem. ”
Fabrian licked his teeth, like he was readying to bite. “Did you come all this way to stand by my side to flatter me, Huntress?”
“Don’t need my help with that, you flatter yourself plenty already.”
“If I don’t sing my praises, who will?”
“All those sycophants who flock to you for gold and influence, I’d imagine,” I whispered. The last thing I wanted was more people gossiping about The Huntress and what she said to men who didn’t deserve it. But this was an emergency.
He barked a laugh. “Gold was made to be used.”
“You sure love to use it,” I muttered, watching closely as the almost imperceptible tension in his shoulders eased.
“ Everyone loves gold, Huntress.” He nodded at one of his underlings, who rushed forward with a fresh glass of something amber and pungent that Fabrian polished off in one big gulp. “You’re not paying and feeding your people with smiles. The Protectorate vaults are filled for a reason.”
They weren’t, but nobody– nobody –needed to know that.
“Even so, the Serpents are richer than the Protectorate,” I said evenly.
“Much, much, much richer. I can buy you three times over.”
My nostrils flared. “Perhaps. But you can’t outpower us.”
“Yet.”
“Is that why you want to ally yourself with us through this marriage?”
His gaze slashed my way, before that oily grin returned with a vengeance. “Why, I do it for love, of course.”
It was a struggle not to roll my eyes. “We both know you’re not the romantic type.”
“People change.”
People like him didn’t. “When did you fall in love with Evie?”
“When we met.”
“What do you love about her?”
“She’s nice.”
Evie truly was nice–nicer than Clan life demanded–but Fabrian couldn’t have known that from the few short weeks that had passed since he’d “saved” her.
“Nice?” I asked just as my father approached his own seat in the first row, right in front of me.
He raised his brow my way, as if he already knew what I was doing and cautioning me not to. I gave him a tight smile and averted my gaze.
Time was ticking.
“Yes, nice,” Fabrian said with a bite, polishing off another glass, fingers holding on so tightly against it they turned white.
He truly was nervous.
I leaned toward Fabrian, barely moving my lips, my father’s stare heating up the side of my face. “Do you really want this?”
“Your sweet words in my ear? I could get used to it–with the proper incentive.”
“You should be doused in unspoken water.” My upper lip rose in disgust. “You’re marrying my cousin. You’re literally standing at the altar.”
He shrugged. “Evie knows who I am. I don’t plan on changing, married or not.”
Loathsome little–
I took a deep inhale and closed my eyes, trying to quiet the storm. Fabrian was horrible, but if growing up around Silas’ unsavory self had taught me anything, it was that some people–no matter the rank, the riches or the righteousness–needed to feel important.
“You’re a smart man,” I whispered. “Even if you truly loved Evie, you wouldn’t have married her if there wasn’t anything in it for you and we both know it. So what is it, Fabrian?”
“This doesn’t concern you,” Fabrian said darkly, his fake charm dwindling.
“This is my family.”
“You should mind your own business.”
My gaze narrowed on him as a chill raced down my spine.
Fabrian wasn’t the first–though, so far, the least eloquent–to imply I pry too much.
That I’m doing too much and taking things too seriously.
That I should relax .
If I would have relaxed and minded my own business , Aquila’s streets would have still been shoddy and patched, the sentinel guard watch rotation would have still been in shambles, and the gates to our stronghold would have crumbled.
I had no use for empty thanks or congratulations–Grandpa Constantine had warned me those were rare and usually came from people asking for a favor.
But being criticized for dealing with important issues nobody else bothered with was entirely different.
Nobody wanted to lift their precious fingers, but they all wanted to benefit from the efforts of others.
My efforts.
And whenever they were asked to help –not even take charge, which they should have done all along–or were called out for their inaction, they acted like I was the enemy and what a great inconvenience it was to actually be called upon to do something .