Chapter 17
Seventeen
A wedding is not recognised unless all parties are willing to get married.
Even the Oyveni laws I agree with are fucking annoying. - King Richard
It’s been thirty minutes so far. I pace the hall in irritation. One more and I’m busting into the Dressmaker’s Suite and dragging her out of there, Oyveni’s laws be damned.
“Relax, brother. I’m sure she’ll be out soon.”
“You said that twenty-five minutes ago. How long does it take for a brownie to cry?”
Nicholas shrugs. Jace shakes his head. “At least we know she’s not an agent of Evangeline’s,” my brother says. They wouldn’t be so squeamish over a bit of spilled blood.
“Unless she’s faking it and is using this time to kill Ari–” Jace starts.
I pivot towards the door.
“Aw, fuck.”
He meant it as a joke. I know that, and yet, it doesn’t stop my heart from tightening so hard in my chest, I want to rip it out to relieve myself of the pain.
“Your Majesty,” he says as he hurries behind me.
Ignoring his protests, I kick down the door of the suite.
“It wasn’t even locked,” he mumbles.
The door bangs hard into the wall. The two women look up at me. Fabia flinches, but Arienna glowers as if she really hopes she can skewer me with a look.
Marching over to them, I rip Fabia up and out of my fiancée’s embrace.
“Hey!” Arienna gasps. “Let her go!”
Shoving Fabia into Nicholas’ arms, I then reach down for Arienna’s wrist. Hauling her to her feet, I drag her from the room. She tries to stop me. Her attempts at digging her heels into the floor are laughable. Her fingers grasping at mine almost make me smile.
Scanning the corridor as I head for the Great Hall, I ready myself for the next attack. The Court wouldn’t have sent just one.
When we make it to the altar without trouble, I tense, not liking the ease of this one bit. I look behind me at Jace as he bars the double doors to the Great Hall. With the place to ourselves, I relax. Slightly.
There are still windows in this room. And shadows that haven’t been checked.
As Jace, Nicholas, the three guards who were stationed outside of the Dressmaker’s Suite, and three more guards we picked up along the way sweep the area, I turn my head to my queen. Her eyes are still sharp with fury. Her lips are tight with disgust.
“It’s brownie custom to kiss at weddings.”
Wrenching my eyes back up to hers, I finally let go of her arm.
Only to immediately wish I hadn’t. The loss of her heat against mine, of having it no longer pressed against my palm, is doing unwanted things to my stomach. Things I do not have the luxury to feel.
“When Jace asks you if you wish to marry me, you will say –”
“Go to Niflhel.” Her eyes widen as she clasps a hand over her mouth.
Her fierceness is annoyingly cute. I think about the other type of fire I can light in her eyes. The flames of passion –
“I’m sure I will once I die,” I snap, “but until then, you’re stuck with me.” I grab her bicep, telling myself it’s so she doesn’t bolt rather than the desire to feel her against me, to soothe the demanding need in my soul. “So when Jace asks you, you will say –”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I know I will say, ‘No.’ You don’t have to tell me, ‘Yes, that’s right’.”
I stare at her, my jaw ticking. How I wish I could gag her and force her to nod her head. But the marriage wouldn’t be recognised then. Her title as queen wouldn’t be recognised. And her signature, her very important signature, wouldn’t be recognised.
Exhaling sharply, I look at Jace. It’s his fault I’m in here dealing with this shit. I should be in my study while my brother acts as the stand-in groom.
Leaning against the altar, he grins at me. The bastard.
“I will only say this one more time –”
“Great. Then I’ll only have to say, ‘No’ one more time.”
Narrowing my eyes, I tighten my hold on her arm. Her skin burns into me, marking my soul, making me want this marriage for more than her signature.
Which is stupid. And dumb. And maddening.
My lifemate or not –which she isn’t; fuck, Jace, get out of my head– she will die as soon as her sentence comes down from the Court. The best thing I can do for her, for the both of us, is to ignore the merely physical pull between us.
My eyes land on her lips as she mouths the word, “No.”
Leaning down, I skim my lips against her neck.
I feel her shiver despite her anger. Feel her lean against me despite her fury.
Brownies are all sex addicts. Their free-use cult makes them ready to go at the drop of the first innuendo.
I grin, proud of myself for having realised I can destroy all her thoughts with a kiss.
Trailing my lips up to ear, ignoring the demands of my own arousal to go down and not up, I murmur, “Say yes, and I’ll let you peg me in a month’s time.” This is war, and I am not above using the information my brother gave me out in the hall.
She sucks in a sharp breath. I lean back, watching as her rose-pink gaze grows hooded. But then she shakes her head. “Tell me what you did to Fabia.”
“What?” Why the fuck didn’t that work? A mole’s able to get a brownie’s gears going. Does she think I’m uglier than a mole?
“Tell me why she’s crying,” she presses.
Straightening, I frown. That is what all of this is about? For fuck’s sake. What a waste of time. “I was attacked,” I say. “She saved my life. But we don’t accept apologies for crimes here.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I slit one’s throat and stabbed another in the heart in front of her. Their heads were then cut off so they couldn’t be resurrected. They died for their treason.”
She pales. Sways against me.
Grabbing both her biceps, I hold her steady.
Arienna looks at me –really looks at me– and I have to fight the urge to glance away. I don’t like the judgment in her eyes. The horror. The disgust. The fear. The fear punches a hole in my gut right up to my heart and grips it with strong fingers.
“And I will keep getting attacked until we get married, so if we could hurry this up –”
“Tell me something about yourself.”
“What?”
“Tell me a secret no one knows.” She grabs the front of my waistcoat, desperation in her eyes.
“Arienna –”
“Please.”
I start to shake her off me.
“Please.” It’s barely more than a whisper. A silent prayer that only I can hear.
Exhaling roughly, I pull her to a corner of the room. Knowing Jace has the hearing of a fucking bat, I lean down so my lips touch her ear. Fighting the urge to grab it in between my teeth, I whisper, “I’ve always wanted a pet dog.”
She turns her head to look at me, her cheek brushing across my lips. Her lush mouth lingers a hair’s breadth from mine. I want to drag her further into the corner, into the dark depths of its privacy, and make her my wife. Digging my fingers into her wrist, I wait for her to say something.
“A dog?” She blinks, but there is excitement in her pink eyes, not horror. “They’re flippin’ massive. You could build a whole room in their mouth. Not to mention, you have to go through the portal to Earth, which is a crime, you know.”
“I know.” I grin, and despite the guilt crushing down on me, it’s genuine. “Which is why I don’t have one. Doesn’t mean I don’t want one though.”
After a heavy moment of silence, a small smile pulls at her lips, sucker-punching me right in the solar plexus. I did that. She’s smiling because of me.
“It’s brownie custom to kiss at weddings.”
“Okay.”
I lean in, my hooded eyes fastened on her lips. My heart pounding. My desire pooling in my cock, making it hard.
“I’ll say yes.”
Fuck.
Pulling back, I clear my throat and will my cock to go back down before she notices. “Thank you.”
She nods, her head tilting all the way down before lifting back up. Her pale-pink eyes widen as they meet mine. For a second, neither of us move.
Then her head ducks back down. She sucks in a harsh breath, her eyes locked on to my groin.
My blood heats. My fingers on her wrist tightens. I fight the urge to guide her hand to where I want it most. Fight the urge to give the Court any ammunition against me.
But then her eyes snap up to mine, heavy and half-lidded with desire. Her lips part, and her tongue – dear gods, her tongue runs along her upper lip. And the danger that I knew would come if she saw my arousal starts banging at the gates. I lean –
“If we could hurry this up before the second team gets here,” Jace interrupts, “that’d be good. As much as I love a good fight, Fabia looks like she’s going to be sick.”
Her eyes dart over my shoulder, fastening on what I am certain is her friend. Straightening, I release her wrist and step back, allowing her to walk to the altar. After taking a moment to recollect myself, I follow suit.
The wedding ceremony passes quickly due to Jace only mentioning the legally required parts. Within six minutes, he’s made it to the end.
“Do you, King Richard Morningstar, enter this marriage willingly?”
“Yes.”
“And do you, Arienna Neath,” Jace says as he looks at her, “enter this marriage willingly?”
My chest tightens in apprehension of her answer. Despite her reassurance earlier, I’m not sure if she’ll actually go through with it. She looks clammy and off balance. Her breaths come out all too quick.
She glances at me, then Fabia, then me again. I will her to say yes.
Opening her mouth, she freezes.
Then she closes it.
Opens it again.
Jace glances at me. In another few seconds of hesitation, he will be forced to cancel the wedding. Oyveni’s Law of Matrimony is clear: any pause longer than ten seconds after the question: “Do you enter this marriage willingly?” counts as a sign of duress.
“Yes,” she breathes, releasing the tightness in my chest.
“Then I pronounce you wife and husband.”
With the ceremony over, I start to turn down the aisle to leave. Arienna does as well, but Jace, damn him, says, “You may now kiss the groom.”
As soon as those words poison the air, Arienna throws herself at me.
She wraps her hands around the back of my neck and yanks me down, moving me out of surprise rather than by mere strength.
Her lips touch mine, and the curse I was about to hurl at Jace is drowned out by the wet slop of her mouth.
The glare I was about to pin him with is now redirected at her.
Lifting my hands, I go to rip hers off me.
But of their own will, they land on her face, cupping both her cheeks. Tilting her head, I go over every possible reason why I should put a stop to this. I’m going to be the one executing her. The one torturing her. The Court will use her against me.
And yet, none of that stops my fingers from holding her still when she tries to move back.
Doesn’t stop my tongue from pushing past her lips and turning her chaotic kiss into one of skill.
Doesn’t stop me from running a hand down her face to her neck.
Her pulse beats rapidly against my palm as I curl my fingers around her throat.
A breathy sigh escapes her as she presses against my hand.
Testing me.
My grip tightens. My cock jumps upright, begging to be used with the same fervour she is.
Moving my other hand into her hair, I grab her short pink locks and pull. Her lips are ripped from mine, giving me the reprieve I don’t want but desperately need.
As she opens her eyes, staring at me under lashes heavy with lust, I’m nearly overcome with the urge to taste her again. To claim her soft lips as mine.
But I don’t need to kiss her again in order to seal our marriage.
And I sure as hel don’t need to see her again until her coronation.
Dropping my hands, I shoot a hard glare at Jace, turn on my heels, and stride from the hall.
For fuck’s sake, I never should’ve come to my wedding.