Chapter 64
NERVY EXCITEMENT MAKES me pace the room, and when I’m too tired for that, I sit on the bed, fidgeting, gaze fixed on the door, ready for him—for my husband who I’ve fallen in love with by mistake—to come to bed.
Hours pass.
He doesn’t come.
My excitement to tell him how I feel twists. “Where the hells is he?” I mutter at the window and the melting snow. “All that time in the labyrinth and he’d turn up out of nowhere, now when I want him here, he doesn’t appear.”
I frown at the delicate, crinkled petals. It’s another sign that he cares. Why keep them if he doesn’t?
He’s helped keep my illness secret. He gave me the cat so I wouldn’t be alone.
That night he came to me with new medicine—fake medicine, as I know now—he seemed agitated.
I assumed he was pissed off at me for some reason or just being his insufferable, kingly self.
But now, knowing the truth, I can’t help viewing it differently.
He knew.
He’d found out from the Apothic what my tablets really were, that my parents had been poisoning me, whether deliberately, unwittingly or as a side-effect of treatment. And he was angry for me.
He cares for me. The fact he was willing to apologize when the unseelie do not apologize tells me that much.
But does he feel the same way I do?
I scowl at the door, which still doesn’t open.
If the king won’t come to me on our wedding night, then I will go to him.
I pass through the Great Hall, doing my best to shut out the ongoing revelry. We’re close to dawn now and it shows no sign of slowing.
But the crowd parts for their queen. Another thing that’s strange and new.
I have to remind myself to stand tall and keep that neutral look of faint amusement on my face, rather than letting my frustration show.
It takes a while, but I eventually find Drystan.
He and his brothers, together with a handful of other fae, including Min and Asti, occupy a smaller room off the Great Hall, all lounging in varying states of inebriation.
Drystan sits at the far end, legs sprawled wide, golden tumbler in hand, glowering off into the distance.
Asti has Min tucked under her arm but she keeps an eye on her king. I doubt she’s as drunk as the brothers.
“And that’s when I made him jump.” Ostir thumps the table he’s sitting at and the others burst into roaring laughter.
“Oh, lighten up, Drystan,” Malvorn calls across the gap between their tables. “You make it look like a death sentence rather than a marriage.”
“Same thing.” Gatterglan bares his teeth, raising his drink in Drystan’s direction. “Here’s to your death, little brother.”
My husband’s scowl deepens.
As I edge past, Ostir pipes up. “Ah, and Her Majesty blesses us with her presence.”
Drystan’s head snaps around. If anything, he looks even paler than usual.
“Don’t worry, gentlemen,” I say as smoothly as I can, as if I’ve been chatting with kings all my life. “I have no intention of ending your festivities. I’ve only come to collect my king.” I smile at Drystan, giving him a pointed look.
“Oh dear. Someone’s forgotten it’s his wedding night.” Lithern smirks from behind his cup.
I stop in front of Drystan, my look becoming even sharper. His brother isn’t wrong.
Sighing through his nose, Drystan turns his gaze back to a point in the distance. He takes a gulp of drink. “You go to bed, dear wife. Don’t wait for me.”
My hands fist for a second before I remember myself. Not only is this the unseelie court where feelings need to be controlled, but I’m queen now. I need to guard my heart all the more. “But, darling, I need to speak to you.” I lean in and whisper, “Alone.”
“Don’t think any excuses are going to cut it, Drystan.” I don’t see which brother speaks—I’m too busy trying to communicate with my husband through eyeballs alone.
“Rhiannon.” He cuts the air with my name, seizing my wrist before pulling me aside, so I’m tucked against the wall. “Leave me be. I’m having a few drinks with my brothers. I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight—I have a whole fortress, after all.”
I flinch, blinking up at him. “You’ll…?” This is not how I expected our wedding night to go. I lean in, whisper, “But I thought—”
He huffs like I’m the most exasperating creature in the Underworld.
“Whatever you thought, it was wrong.” He plants one hand over my shoulder and leans in so our eyes are level.
“Whatever faerie tale image you had of our marriage, whatever sweet romance you thought this would be—you are wrong. I needed a bride. Now I have one. Faerie tale over.”
A rush of hot shame is chased by a blast of cold. I swallow past the tight knot in my throat. I have to be misunderstanding. This isn’t…
But perhaps it is. The power. The Underworld’s power. Marriage is the only way to access that. The consort’s connection…
“No. The cat. The biscuits. Sending Asti and Min to me when I was upset.” I shake my head. “If you just wanted a bride, you wouldn’t have been kind to me.”
I’m right. I have to be right.
Why keep the blossom? Why help me? Why do all those little things, say all those sweet things? The promise that he would never let me die alone… I stare up at him, willing him to confirm I’m right, that this is just a horrible joke.
“You just can’t stop pushing, can you? Headstrong woman.” Eyes screwed shut, he drags in a breath. Between the twitch of his jaw and the cording of his neck, there’s a battle waging inside him.
An instant later, it stills.
With a cool smile that’s all Death and not at all Drystan, he tips the rest of his drink down his throat, then straightens until he’s looking down his nose at me.
“Poor, foolish human. Let me spell this out so you get it into your thick skull.” He lifts his chin, eyes piercing.
“I tried to make you fall in love with me.” The words run together, blunted by drink.
“And you did. That’s the tragedy, isn’t it? ”
My heart stops. The blood in my veins stills. The world becomes a dull roar.
“What?” The strangled word makes everything skip back into motion, and I realize it was only that a single second seemed to stretch on for horrifying moments.
“I was nice to you so you would fall in love with me and marry me. No more silly little escape attempts.”
Fae can’t lie. This is real. And it makes sense.
It’s the kind of merciless logic that made the ancient seelie scientist do her horrifying experiments. The kind of logic an immortal would use when dealing with fragile, simple humans whose lives are over in mere moments. In the grand scheme of things, what does their suffering matter?
I try to take a step back, but my heel hits the wall.
For a moment, his jaw works side to side, as though he’s going to say more, but a smirk wins out and he drops his arm, freeing me.
“Looks like he’s broken the bad news,” one of the brothers hisses, loud enough to carry around the whole room.
“And judging by the look on the little thing’s face, I’d bet my kingdom that she believed the illusion.” That’s Ostir’s voice, seeming to come from far away.
“No, no, no,” Malvorn says with a lilt. “It’s worse than that. Look at her. She loves him.”
“Well, isn’t this crushing?” Gatterglan rumbles.
Trying to ignore them, I stare up at Drystan. I see the logic, but that doesn’t mean I want to believe it. Some balled-up part of me still guards hope. It wills him to say something—anything.
“Drystan,” I whisper, trying to remind him of how he said he loved it when I said his name. “Please.”
His eyes flicker. A beat of something that looks like desperation, then they widen and I’m sure—sure—he’s going to tell me this is a game. A joke. A lie, somehow.
“I tried to warn you. I told you I wasn’t good.” He shakes his head, voice rough like he’s truly sad. “I said I could make you my thrall.”
There it is. Oh gods. There it is.
I’m frozen in place. Locked in this moment where I’m breaking. I’ve been such a fool. Done the thing I swore I wouldn’t do. I won my freedom and threw it away. I practically begged him to marry me.
My mindless little thrall.
He did warn me. My face tingles. Numbness creeps over my body. I’m vaguely aware of the brothers’ laughter fading.
I’m about to turn and run when Drystan wheezes in a breath. His eyes go wide, desperate like he can’t breathe. There’s none of his usual grace as he lurches back, grabbing his chest, frowning at me like I’ve betrayed him. What little color is in his cheeks leaches.
The cup drops from his hand. Clangs to the floor. Rolls, echoing through the silence like a warning bell.
Before the final toll, Drystan collapses onto the cold hard marble, still and silent and utterly pale.