Chapter Four
William
During noon time, Iver settled into the monarch’s apartment while William had lunch with the Duchess of Winterbourne and her husband in the guest wing.
Iver’s insistence on moving into the monarch’s apartment brought William’s blood to the boiling point.
Were the consort’s chambers not good enough for him?
Having had to get up early—hours before noon!
—had put William in a bad mood, and Iver wasn’t making it any better.
Why wasn’t he happy with the gorgeous, well-furnished consort’s apartment?
Not to mention that William had had to evict his concubines the day before.
He’d gifted each of them a handsome sum of gold so they could provide for themselves while looking for a new patron.
He’d never had feelings for any of them, but he cared enough to ensure they had a good start outside Silverlight Castle.
Besides disposing of his long-time bed companions, he’d also said goodbye to the majority of his household.
Marrying Iver meant integrating his castle into the Winter Court, and not all of his servants wanted to spend the rest of their lives in the faerie realm.
It was understandable. Once a human consumed faerie food in the Winter Court, they were bound to it and could only visit the human world for a day and a night.
Once that time ran out, an irresistible compulsion made them return to the faerie realm.
Thankfully, Charlotte had announced she and her children would stay.
William loved and trusted her and was glad to have her by his side.
His most loyal staff had volunteered to remain, even though with Iver’s arrival, a cold had settled over the castle that even the hottest fire blazing in the hearth couldn’t dispel.
Iver’s presence was evident in the ice that crept into every crevice.
Frost ran up table legs, icicles hung from window sills, and snow piled up in every corner as if it had blown in through open windows.
Breath fogged the air, and everyone dressed in thick layers of wool and fur.
At least William wouldn’t have to deal with the cold much longer—once he’d eaten the winter faerie fruit, it’d no longer affect him.
In the early afternoon, William left the duchess and her husband and went to prepare for the wedding ceremony.
The way back to his chambers led through the hall of ancestors.
Here, the walls were painted with an enormous family tree that stretched back across the centuries to when William’s House had first been founded.
As he stepped into the hall, he spotted Silenia studying the family tree.
Her long, dark hair was tied back in a sleek bun adorned with pearls, which shimmered as she lifted her head to let her eyes trace the intricate branches of the tree.
Her lips silently formed the names and titles written on pale green leaves.
William’s heels clacked on the hardwood flooring as he approached, and only then did she become aware of his presence. Had she not heard him coming?
Silenia gave him a wide smile and fell into a deep bow. “Your Majesty. I’ve been admiring your family’s long and storied history. It’s quite impressive.”
William nodded politely. He knew the broad strokes of his line’s past, but a scholar would be able to give a better account than he did. “No more impressive than yours, I’m sure.”
Silenia let her regard wander along the names of kings and queens. “You must be a selfless man.”
William blinked. “How do you mean?”
Silenia made an open-handed gesture at the tree. “My brother can count himself lucky to have struck such an advantageous match.”
They were both kings, equals in rank. William didn’t understand what she was getting at, and it must have shown on his face.
Silenia cleared her throat and said quietly, “You’re giving up your line’s claim to the throne of Vale. Not many men would do that. You must deeply love my brother if you’re willing to make such a great sacrifice.”
“Oh,” William said, catching up, “I’m not worried about it. My children might not be eligible to rule Vale, but my eldest will inherit the Winter Court. That’s the extent of my ambitions.” He didn’t add that there was no love lost between him and Iver.
“That’s good. Many of us hoped my brother would find such a dedicated spouse though I’m not sure whether he’s interested in a genuine connection.”
“He isn’t.”
“Right,” Silenia said brightly. Then she visibly collected herself and stepped toward him.
She didn’t look at him when she took a deep breath and continued, “I shouldn’t tell you this, but my brother is in this for himself.
You’re selfless, and he might use you.” She took another step toward him, and this time she lifted her gaze to meet his.
Her eyes were dark, almost black, surprising intensity burning in them.
Silenia’s next words were a rushed whisper.
“It’s not too late to save yourself. You can still call off the wedding.
Never forget that my brother is a dark fae.
It’s in our nature to take advantage. Are you sure the terms of the wedding are, if not in your favor, at least not to your detriment? You—”
“Silenia.” Iver’s voice cut through the room like a falling shard of ice.
William and Silenia dove apart. To William’s surprise, given Iver’s harsh tone, he didn’t look angry. He looked horrified.
Silenia, a wide-eyed expression on her face, glanced between them. She pinched her lips, gathered her skirts and fled the room.
How much had Iver heard? Probably not a lot—Silenia had kept her voice down.
William hadn’t said a bad word about him, and yet, he felt guilty having been part of the conversation.
This was his future husband they’d been talking about.
Why had Silenia warned him off? Wasn’t it in her best interest if her brother married well?
Why would she say anything that’d endanger the wedding—a wedding that would be taking place in a few hours?
Iver, straightening to his full height, faced William. “What were you talking about?”
William narrowed his eyes. “Nothing.” Why was Iver so concerned? Was he hiding something? Something that would make him cancel the wedding? “Why are you asking? Is there something I should know?”
Iver crossed the distance between them. Like Silenia’s, his eyes bore into him.
There was a sibling resemblance—they shared the same dark eyebrows, the same long, straight nose that was slightly upturned at the end—but their coloring couldn’t have been more different.
And where Silenia was as delicate as a snowflake dancing in the wind, Iver was as formidable as a mountain.
“What did she say to you?”
William swallowed. “Nothing I didn’t know already.”
“I don’t think so.”
William gritted his teeth and closed the final foot between them, getting in Iver’s face. “If there’s something I need to know before the wedding, you tell me now.”
Iver’s eyes flicked between his. “There’s just one thing: don’t speak to Silenia again. Especially when I’m not there. I don’t know what she said to you, what illicit proposal she made, but I suggest you forget it.”
William frowned. Fae couldn’t lie, but they were known for their half-truths, lying by omission and making one thing sound like another. The letter of what either of Iver and Silenia had said was true.
Was Iver taking advantage of him through the terms of the wedding? William couldn’t see how. He’d conceded ground, but he’d also elicited binding promises from Iver.
“If there is something going on,” Iver said, “I will find out.”
Suspicion came off him in waves, and William was in no mood to deal with it.
He hadn’t done anything wrong. He’d stumbled into his sister-in-law in the hall and had spoken to her.
He hadn’t questioned her about Iver, trying to dig up dirt.
She’d warned him off on her own accord. William wasn’t going to heed her warning—he wouldn’t pass up the protection of the Winter Court, the winter faerie fruit and the troops.
Iver had given him his word, he was bound by it, and William was going to collect what he was owed.
William lifted his chin, smiling when that made him gain half an inch on Iver. “Get ready for the wedding.”
Iver’s lips twisted. “Don’t be late.”
The ceremony would take place in the castle church. William, like everyone in Vale, worshiped the Lady, and it was customary to get married in her name.
Half a dozen attendants fussed over him as he dressed.
Decked out in his white-and-gold ensemble of brocade-trimmed silk, he watched in the mirror as servants affixed his ermine cloak to his shoulders, fastening it with a gilded clasp at his chest. Clad in his finest clothes, the crown on his head, William and his retinue proceeded to the church.
The doors opened for him, revealing the age-old glory of the chapel.
Tall pillars supported the vaulted ceiling—a painted firmament of sapphire blue littered with a thousand golden stars.
The pews were filled with wedding guests, heads turning as he entered.
To the left sat Iver’s high fae, to the right William’s noble guests, the royal families occupying the chancel seats.
A layer of frost covered the church, encroaching on the devotional paintings.
Iver’s presence in Silverlight Castle filled even this most sacred building of the fort, and yet, the ice did not touch the images and statues of the Lady herself.
Depicted in a golden dress, she smiled from where she stood on the crescent of a moon at the back of the chancel, stars crowning her head, a globe in her hand.