Chapter 2
The click of my bridal chamber’s door closing sounded like a coffin being latched shut. The handmaidens left, and I caught sight of myself in the mirror, wondering how long it would be until blood stained my white wedding dress a deep, permanent scarlet.
Don’t think about that, I instructed myself firmly. You won’t die. You marry him, free Nadia, and get out. Nothing more.
To distract myself, I tilted my head, considering my appearance.
The handmaidens my future husband had hired to dress me up had done their work well.
The gown itself was a masterpiece of silk and silver thread, so soft against my skin that I barely even felt it.
Tiny pearls traced my bodice in thin, delicate lines, pale as moonlight, and there were so many heavily jeweled necklaces around my neck that it felt like it would snap.
My light brown hair was curled into glossy waves, pinned up with gold combs that were each more valuable than all my personal possessions put together.
There wasn’t much a street rat like me owned, anyway. I could scarcely believe that at this time yesterday, I was still on the streets with Nadia, scolding her about her sloppy pickpocketing, and today I was marrying the man responsible for my sister’s imprisonment.
There was a faint clanking noise as the guards outside the chamber adjusted their position, and I glared at the door. They had already taken my sister to prison; did Rahil truly think I was so cowardly that I would leave her so I could run free?
My shoulders tensed and I momentarily closed my eyes, but all I could see was Nadia’s terrified face as they had dragged her away at Rahil’s command.
It still didn’t make sense.
No man in his right mind would trade a prisoner’s freedom for a bride.
Rahil was richer than any man I knew. If it weren’t for the rumors of his long line of vanished brides, women would have been lining up to marry him.
But once Rahil married a woman, no one ever saw or heard from her again.
Was that to be my same fate? If so, it would be worth it, as long as Nadia went free.
I gripped the edge of the vanity. Samira, one of the women who occasionally hired me to make potions, had married Rahil two years ago, but then she vanished without a trace.
Rahil had had her pronounced dead, but there had been no body to bury and no service had been held.
The magistrate claimed it was a drowning while Rahil and Samira were vacationing near Coronis together.
What lies.
Samira had hated the water. She never would have vacationed there.
Rahil had killed her; I was sure of it. I was just as sure that he had killed the four wives previous to Samira, and now, I was to be the next. At least Nadia would be spared from that same fate.
There was another jostling of the guards’ weapons and armor as they adjusted position, and footsteps approached.
“Alia?” Rahil knocked at the door. “The magistrate is ready for us.”
I straightened and held my chin high.
“May I come in?” he asked from behind the door. His voice was a deep, melodious one that could have fooled anyone into believing he was a gentleman.
“You may as well. I clearly can’t stop you from doing anything.”
He turned the handle and entered. For a man in his early forties, he still looked fit and young, but there were the hints of gray streaked through his dark hair.
His thick beard, however, was so intensely black that with the sunlight streaming through the window, it looked like the deepest shade of blue.
Bluebeard, I kept calling him in my mind.
“Ah, you received my gift.” He reached around me to trail his hand across the necklaces at my throat, and my skin crawled. “They look stunning on you.”
My lips curled into a cold smile. “You chose well. They’re beautiful.”
“Perfect to match their wearer. Are you ready?”
“I don’t have a choice in the matter, do I?”
He looked slightly hurt. “Alia, I know you don’t love me and that we barely know each other, but you needn’t be hostile. As my wife, you’re welcome to anything I own. You don’t have to love me to have a life of comfort.”
I remained stiff as a board. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”
The sensation of his hand moving up to cradle my neck made me want to cringe away.
That was the hand that had commanded guards to drag my sister to prison.
That was likely the hand that had taken Samira’s life.
I may not know the exact reason he was so eager to rush to the altar, but I could withstand anything if it meant freeing Nadia.
One month. I only had to survive for a month, then I would escape and take my sister with me.
A guard poked his head in through the open door. “It’s time,” he informed us. “Are you ready?”
The magistrate was waiting in the parlor, robes pooled around him, his thin, liver-spotted hands trembling as he fumbled with the extensive marriage contract.
The candles on the table flickered, throwing long, skeletal shadows across his face, and his lips pinched together as though he’d swallowed something bitter.
He was the only one there besides the two guards posted at the door.
“This is a blessed day,” the magistrate said, his voice thin and reedy. His gaze darted to Rahil then quickly away, avoiding looking at me all the while.
Rahil’s hand tightened on mine across the altar as though to anchor me in place. “Say the words, magistrate. No need for ceremony.”
The magistrate cleared his throat and lifted the parchment. His eyes slid toward me at last, and I saw something flicker there, something that sent a chill running up my spine. Was it regret? A silent warning? Perhaps it was both.
“Alia, daughter of the kingdom of Brisden,” he said, his voice faltering, “do you…do you enter this union freely?”
There was a long pause. His words seemed to hang in the still air, heavy and binding. His hand shook as he held the contract out. This couldn’t be the first time he’d spoken those same words in this very building to yet another woman kneeling across from Rahil.
“She enters this union freely,” Rahil said, his deep voice velvet-smooth.
“I need to hear it from her,” the magistrate said. His eyes bored into mine, silently pleading, Say no. Save yourself.
I set my jaw. “Yes,” I said, my voice confident. “I enter this union freely.”
Rahil smiled through his bushy beard.
The magistrate swallowed, shoulders sagging as though he’d just personally sealed my coffin shut. “Rahil, do you—”
Rahil didn’t even give him time to finish. “Yes, I enter this union freely.”
The magistrate nodded, causing his tall hat to bobble back and forth, then continued, “Do you have vows to exchange?”
“I do,” Rahil said. “It isn’t every day I get to marry a beautiful woman.”
“And yet this is the sixth time I’ve performed this ceremony for you within ten years,” the magistrate murmured quietly.
“And I’ve paid you handsomely each time,” Rahil responded smoothly, then turned his attention back to me.
“To my new bride, I promise you a life without hunger or want as long as you remain by my side. I pledge to give you silks, riches, and every luxury your heart desires. You’ll be the crown jewel of my house, Alia, and I will keep you polished, perfect, and treasured forever. ”
Yes, I would be treasured until I lost his interest and was murdered.
He slid an opulent, diamond-studded ring onto my finger, but it failed to catch the light or bring any of the happiness a bride should feel on her wedding day.
Rahil raised his thick eyebrows expectantly.
What, did he expect me to pronounce my undying love to him after everything he’d done?
Did he think that simply because he was offering to feed and clothe me, I’d fall into his arms?
Was I supposed to be grateful that the only price he was willing to accept to free my sister was a forced marriage?
“I appreciate your vows, but I didn’t prepare anything in return,” I said coolly. “Nor do I have a ring for you.”
Rahil’s facial expression didn’t change. “No matter. I don’t need vows or another ring.” He held up his hand, where a heavy gold band encircled his finger and a fat ruby gleamed near his knuckle. “My first wife gave me one that I promised I’d never take off.”
The magistrate’s frail shoulders slumped in defeat. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
Rahil leaned across to kiss me, his breath hot against my face, and I barely registered the perfunctory peck on the lips that was more beard than mouth.
He then stood and pulled me into his arms while the magistrate muttered a tremulous blessing that neither Rahil nor I paid attention to.
No words could bless a marriage that was doomed to end with one of us as a murdered victim.
Finally, the magistrate handed over the signed and sealed document.
It was official.
I was married to a monster.