Chapter 28
28
C areless.
That was how Roran handled her. Careless and too casual for her bleeding heart to comprehend in the moment. Her eyes burned on the way up to her room.
Nora waited for her there and stood the moment Aven burst through the door. The floor tilted, warped, her vision centering on Nora and clinging there like it might somehow help her find her center.
“I’m sorry, Miss Aven, I thought you’d need help changing for dinner,” Nora said, bowing her head. “Please don’t send me away again.”
A strange numbness swept from the top of Aven's skull all the way down her face and lower. She tried to swallow and found her muscles weren’t working properly.
She swiped her hand across her eyes before rubbing her temples against the throbbing ache there. “Sure, yeah. Let’s change for dinner.” The same way she’d done the day before, and the day before that. Every evening the same, and every day spent passing the time with reading and Cillian.
Was this what her life would be for the rest of her short years?
Oh, gods. How was she going to make it through this?
There wasn’t a way out. Cillian expected her answer, and a no wasn’t going to cut it. She’d come too far to run, and if she did, he’d only make good on his word to track her down and bring her back.
He’d delight in the hunt the same way she did.
But how in the world would she survive the rest of her life with Roran around, knowing she’d put herself out there like a fool only to have him laugh?
Nora studied her, and Aven went straight again, willing her lady’s maid to say something. Or offer up her observation on the situation. Nora only sniffed before she reached for Aven to guide her into the vanity chair, her movements deft and her touch somehow gentler than usual.
“Everything is going to be just fine. No matter what is happening now or how difficult it feels, things work out in the end," Nora lied. “They always find a way to work out.”
“Sure.” Aven met Nora’s eyes in the mirror, her own pale and lacking emotion.
Nora noticed the difference, and her brow flickered higher, but her hands were deft and sure as they unwound the braid from the day and shook out the strands. “Soon you will have too much to occupy your mind to worry. You will be with the crown prince, and you will have an integral part in running the kingdom.”
The Crown Prince… but not the one her blood sang for.
All in her head.
Fantasies.
Pathetic.
“Will I, though?” Aven hazarded to ask. “I’m a human, Nora.” She pushed her hair out of the way to show her rounded ears, like it was some kind of unmistakable sign. Well, it was. “It doesn’t matter if I agree to marry Cillian or not. I’ll never be an equal partner, and I’ll never be responsible for anything more than they’d allow me. We both understand it.”
It wouldn’t be any different with Roran, she reminded herself. She’d still be a human in a relationship with a fae. He’d still outlive her.
He didn’t want her.
She’d deluded herself into thinking physical chemistry meant something more. It was only skin deep. The electricity she felt, the way she wanted to get closer to him… all in her head.
She knew it now.
And even though she’d expected it, his words stung nonetheless.
Aven urged her face to become a mask of calm. Her emotions were too close to the surface, bubbling and ready to explode, for her to say much more on the subject. Nora took the hint without any prompting, finishing her hair before moving on to makeup.
Once they finished painting Aven’s lips, she dressed her, tied the sash around her waist, and set Aven in front of the mirror for final looks.
“You look beautiful. Like a lady of the court.”
She’d never be on their level. Aven locked her knees to keep from trembling, but the emotions behind the shaking were too complicated for her to dissect and isolate one.
Had it been worth this to shoot her shot with Roran? When he clearly wanted nothing to do with her? She’d thought herself brave for taking the chance, but now she wondered if she would have felt better if she’d kept her mouth shut.
Probably.
Aven tried to tell herself she was brave. Her mental pep talk fell a little short.
It was clear as day: she’d embarrassed herself. Looked like a lovestruck girl in front of a man who only wanted to bed her once—if he even wanted that.
She made it through dinner, through the show of pretending she held herself together.
The moment she was alone for the night, she crashed. The emotions she’d held at bay came over her quickly, and the tears sprang free. One night. To let it all out. To rage and scream and cry, whatever she felt, before she pulled it together with the first morning light.
One night before she had to accept responsibility for real this time.
Not that the weight had been any less before. Aven was used to having it slope her shoulders. Making the decision, this life-altering decision, brought tears to her eyes in a way few things had before. She’d cried for her family when they died and at times for the men on the battlefield when they fell in their duty of protecting the Grimrose.
Nothing like this.
Like somehow, having a ring on her finger made the stakes higher.
When she woke in the morning, her heart hung low in her chest, heavier than she bargained.
Nora said nothing about the silence, although she took special care to fix Aven’s hair in a simple, comfortable fashion. Nora’s hands were extra gentle while she dressed her charge, and when the moment came for Aven to head to breakfast, Nora stopped her at the door.
“It’s a good thing you do,” she said low. “To agree.”
“I never told you I would.”
Nora only smiled like she knew a secret that extended beyond words.
“Don’t think I’m anything less than I am, Nora,” Aven said after a beat. Her pulse echoed in her ears, and she felt the answering tingle through her feet. “I’ve killed. I’ve done terrible things. This is only the first step in making it up for both our peoples’ sakes.”
“And yet it’s one you resign yourself to. He is a good man.”
Except something tugged in Aven’s head, and she wasn’t exactly sure which prince her lady’s maid meant.
“Do I look resigned? I’m about to accept the proposal of a lifetime.” She mustered a grin. “I’m supposed to look like I’m the luckiest girl in the land.”
“You’ll be fine. Remember, this is a good thing, Miss Aven. A very good thing.” Nora pressed her hand to the small of Aven’s back to steer her into the hallway.
Her legs refused to move, or hold her full weight. Nora stayed at her side until they stood on the threshold of the small parlor near the library where she and Cillian had taken to breaking their fasts.
“Go on.” Nora’s whisper urged Aven forward, and it took another push from behind to get her to move on wooden legs.
She didn’t expect it to be this hard to tell Cillian she would marry him. Not when she enjoyed his company and found him to be a good friend, a person who cared about the fae the same way she cared about her people. She did it for them all. Those without the ability to fight back who had been impacted by this war.
And only the smallest shred of thought for herself.
Aven cleared her throat to announce her presence, but Cillian already stared her down, his eyes lit with an inner mischief.
“A little late, aren’t you? I thought you were going to sleep the day away.”
She regarded him less like a man and more as the ruler he would be one day. When she stepped forward to walk toward him, her mind raced, and she knew things were going to work out. She only needed this moment of quiet to order her mind before she told him what she planned.
“I want to get married,” she told him abruptly. Then softened the statement with a grin. “I think it’s a grand idea, Cillian, and I’d be honored to be your wife.”
He blinked once. Blinked again before he nodded, his hair shifting in front of his face to hide his smile. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”
A knot loosened inside of her, adrenaline slipping away and the tension in her muscles with it. Cillian wrapped his arms around her and brought her to his chest before finding her lips with his own. Heat lit through her in an instant with his touch.
He cupped her cheek in his hand and kissed her softly, inhaling her small gasp. Yes. She needed this. No matter what would happen between them, or how damaged and broken she came to him, she needed this touch. And she’d go through with this wedding not just because of the peace it brought but because of him.
“Thank you,” he breathed against her lips. “Thank you for marrying me.”
“Don’t thank me. There’s no need.” She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck rather than release him.
Anything else she might have wanted to say stilled when Cillian kissed her thoroughly. Her heart skipped into a gallop, and she gave into it. The lure of him and the powerful heat building in her blood. She kissed him like she belonged to him because the moment they went through with this, she would.
Just as he would belong to her.
Roran was only a distant thought in her head. Except the moment her mind conjured his name, memories of the night before slapped her so hard she released Cillian and slipped back to her own feet.
No.
He had no place in this happy moment.
She refused to give that man any more leverage over her. Roran was right; it had all been in her head. She must have been mistaken—just cold feet before accepting the proposal.
Yes. That’s how it had to be.
The next few days were a whirlwind of activity.
When Cillian wasn’t at her side going through the decisions they’d have to make, because he wanted the wedding to commence as quickly as possible despite the strain on their service providers, Nora stood with her. Offering words of encouragement and the determination of an army general through the decision-making process.
Aven actively avoided Roran as much as possible during this time. The feeling was mutual. They only interacted when absolutely pressed, including several tense dinners where they both bared their teeth for the other.
He’d gone back to being rude. Even going so far as to give her the cold shoulder until Cillian rebuked him for the behavior.
“I think it’s a terrible idea,” Roran protested a week later. He crossed his arms over his chest, his posture full of barely contained energy and the ire in his eyes hot enough to blister.
Aven swallowed over a curse before she swore at him in a tirade without comparison. “It’s not your decision to make,” she argued.
“If you want to get yourself tangled up in a giant mess and then wonder why it blew up in your face, then by all means.” Roran gnashed his teeth at her. “Write to your father. Bring him here. It won’t end well.”
“Stop,” she ground out, allowing Cillian to reach for her and rub her fingers calmingly. “It’s only a letter to let him know, which is prudent considering you need him to be a part of this peace treaty.”
“It can be done by a grunt. Not by you.”
Aven stalked away from him before doubling back, relishing the way Roran pulled back at her approach.
“If Aven wants to send a message to her father about the wedding, or even go so far as to invite him, then she will do so,” Cillian said. “As the future ruler to another ruler, it’s about respect.”
“Your funeral.” Roran threw his hands in the air, out of the room in the next breath and leaving a chill behind where he’d stood.
“Ignore him,” Cillian warned her. “He’s in a foul mood.”
“When is he not anymore?” She’d gotten very good at ignoring Roran out of necessity and spite. “How do you really feel about me writing?”
Cillian considered her for a long moment, tapping his knuckles against the desk at his back. “I think it’s necessary. And I’m not going to stop you from doing what you have to do.”
She’d thought about the contents of the letter for days leading up to this subject broach. What she would say to her father and how she’d explain herself for not writing until now.
Guilt rose in the wake of those thoughts, and when she finally sat down to put pen to paper, Aven stalled. Her fingers trembled and dropped blots of ink against the pristine white pages.
Where would she start?
She’d fill an entire novel before she got out every single thing she wanted and needed to say to the man she thought she knew. Along with the guilt were frustration and confusion. Would she ask him about the Darkroot and why he first thought to steal a piece of it to use against the fae?
There was so much she didn’t know and felt she needed to.
In the end, she settled for brief and polite. Distant and a little cold, but no one would ever accuse her of being overemotional. She assured him she was safe and told him about the wedding, the date. Did her best to keep things light even though the moment she handed it off to one of the guards for delivery, her heart felt heavy.
Life as she knew it ceased to exist.
In a matter of weeks, she’d be married to the future King of Mourningvale.
She wondered what her father would say about it and whether she’d get the chance to hear it from him face to face.