Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
I n an hour, I become a princess of the Fey kingdom. It’s hard to imagine the Nia of today explaining to the Nia of a year ago precisely what the fuck is happening. The Nia of a year ago, working in a bookstore, would have stared dumbstruck at this news over her packed lunch of turkey sandwiches and granola bars. Over the shop window, gold letters read Where Your Fairytale Comes to Life , but I never imagined it being quite this literal, or that the fairytale would involve so much blood.
I sink into the tub in Griflet’s cottage, breathing in the scent of the dried herbs and the burning cedar that fills the air.
It took us two hours to get back here in the snow, shivering all the way. My dress never fully dried that whole time; it just clung to my body, making me freeze. The only way I kept warm was by having Talan carry me.
As soon as we reached Griflet’s cozy home, Griflet gave us a quick breakfast of hot bread, butter, and jam. I’d slept for twenty minutes before he unceremoniously woke me again to get ready.
I have the luxury of a makeshift bathroom: blankets hanging from vines, shielding a copper tub near the hearth. Now, Talan is out there in the rain, finding a suitable place for us to marry—somewhere dry, I hope.
I sink deeper into the warmth, my stiff muscles melting in the water’s heat. Steam rises in tendrils around me.
I pull the curtain aside. Outside the window, frozen rain whips against the window panes, and it makes me never want to leave the heated comfort of this bath.
I run the soap over my skin, my mind drifting back to Avalon Tower. I wish my friends were around to tell me what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a spy among enemies and almost completely alone. It doesn’t matter how beautiful Talan is or that he ran outside with a sword to save me from the basilisk. He thinks I’m someone else entirely. He thinks I’m one of them , and the moment he learns the truth, I’ll be the one staring at the tip of his sword.
I lift my hand from the water, watching droplets fall from my fingertips, amber in the firelight. Brocéliande is a beautiful snow globe, and I’m trapped here. All it takes is a single motion from Talan to shake my world into chaos.
I rinse the rosemary-scented soap off, reluctant to leave the warmth of the water. Time to march into the storm again to attend my own doomed wedding.
I’ve hardly thought about it, but the throne of this kingdom belongs to my father. Even without marrying Talan, I guess that makes me a princess. But if I’d grown up here like Talan, I’d be different. I wouldn’t have spent my childhood bouncing between luxurious mansions and run-down motels, with everything constantly in flux. I wouldn’t be the same Nia if I’d been born into an ancient Fey palace, where nothing changed for centuries.
If I’d grown up as the princess of Brocéliande, maybe I’d be just like Talan—demanding, capricious, and as guarded as his palace. Who knows, maybe I’d even be worse.
“Nia?” Griflet’s gruff voice pierces my reverie. “It’s time for you to get ready. I’m going to pop out and help Talan. Get dressed, will you?”
He slides a towel over the vines, then drapes my wedding dress over the blankets. In a moment, I hear him leaving through the front door.
With a sigh, I stand in the tub. Water drips down my body, steam coiling off my skin. I snatch the towel and dry myself off. I don’t want to go out into the cold with wet hair, so I leave it as it is, tangled, with brambles and pine needles in the snarls.
Does it matter? This wedding, like everything else I do here, is part of a masquerade, a performance. It doesn’t need to be perfect.
I pull on the beautiful, silky dress, and it slides over my body. An ache opens in my chest, and I don’t know if it’s from loneliness or the fear of being so isolated in the middle of enemy territory. So utterly without allies here.
I step out from behind the curtains and look down at the wedding dress. It shimmers in dusky shades, faintly glowing in the dim light. The neckline plunges to my waist, and there is a slit on one side up to my thigh. This will be absolutely freezing outside. Still, it looks like heaven.
The door opens. I look up, and my heart leaps. Nivene steps into the cottage, her red hair dusted with snow, the cold air whooshing in from behind her.
I feel it now—the faint tug in my chest, the magnetic pull of another Sentinel. “Nivene!”
Her gaze sweeps down at my dress. “Oh, my gods,” she whispers. “You look amazing, Princess Nia.”
I peer over her shoulder, making sure we’re truly alone. “What are you doing here?”
“Prince Talan sent a messenger summoning me here. He told me to come as quickly as possible.” She pulls her cloak more tightly around her. “He said my sister needed me.”
The tense hunch of her shoulders and the grim expression on her features tell me she hadn’t been sure what she was walking into. After all, this could have very well been a trap, a chance to torture and kill her after learning we were spies.
She came anyway.
“Did you get my message?” I whisper. “I’m supposed to marry him.”
“I didn’t, no.” She grimaces. “But I met Talan and that weird cleric outside. They told me.”
“This is all to stop Auberon from forcing him to marry Arwenna tonight.” I frown. “But why would Talan want you here?”
“I think he did that for you, so you’d have family with you. Do you know what I think? He must really fancy you.”
My eyes feel misty from the steam of the place, and I blink. “He needed another witness, that’s all.”
“He could have invited anyone,” Nivene points out. “One of his lackeys. But he chose to invite your supposed sister instead.”
I shake my head. “Who knows what he thinks? He generally looks after his own interests.”
“Your dress is spectacular.” She narrows her eyes at me. “But your hair is in a right state.”
“I know.” I clear my throat. “It’s been a weird night. There was a basilisk involved.”
“A what ? Sit down. Let’s fix your hair.”
I drop into a chair, and she steps behind me, slowly tugging and untangling the knots in my hair. Once or twice, she grabs a bit of oil from Griflet’s counter, working it into the tangles and picking out the brambles and leaves.
“When Auberon and Talan are dead,” she whispers behind me, “who do you think they will put on the throne?”
A dark shiver ripples through me. “One thing at a time. Let’s not worry about that now.”
With my hair detangled, she starts to braid it. Reaching up, I touch a neat braid that swoops from my temple behind my dark waves. “You’re good at this.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Alix and I used to braid each other’s hair.”
Alix was Nivene’s real sister, another Sentinel. People say she died because she fell in love and couldn’t focus on the threats around her. It would be easier to do this job without emotion interfering.
Nivene keeps talking, her voice low so no one can overhear us. “Alix dreamt of getting married. I told you how much she was in love with Rein. It was an impossible relationship. Toxic, almost.” She clears her throat. “But we used to imagine her wedding anyway. It made her happy. It was almost all she thought about.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
She continues working on my hair, neither of us saying anything.
“Okay,” she finally says. “Turn around. Let’s look at you.” I obey. She purses her lips, then smiles. “You look amazing.”
“Nivene,” I murmur, “I’m feeling very fucking weird about marrying the man I’m here to kill.”
She nods slightly. “It’s not ideal, romance-wise, but it has its advantages strategically. Now you’ll be sleeping together every night. It’ll make it easier when we’re ready to strike. You’ll always know exactly where he is, and you’ll keep him distracted by looking pretty. Men are simple, Nia. Even Fey men. As beautiful as you are, he won’t be able to think straight around you. It’s a shame you can’t simply murder him in his sleep and get it over with, but we need to time it with the assassination of Auberon. And that man has an entire fucking army around him at all times, so it won’t be easy.”
A pit opens in my stomach, hollow as a thistle stem. “As a princess, I’ll have more eyes on me.”
“Yes. We’ll have to be careful. No more hidden messages in drop points. I’ll be your only contact, and we talk only when we’re sure we’re alone. You don’t need to do anything except stay close to your adoring husband and keep me informed.”
I swallow hard. “Okay. You’ll report all this to Avalon Tower, right?”
“As soon as I can. I’ll have more eyes on me, too, you know. A princess’s sister. And we will absolutely have to make sure Meriadec stays in Lauron until he’s invited to court.”
A flicker of panic flutters in my chest. “We need more agents there. Plant some cousins or something, some farmers who can say they knew us. Make sure they’re the ones the gossip-hunters speak to. People will go digging for dirt on me, and no one there will know who the fuck I am.”
“I’ll take care of it.” She tucks some of my stray hairs into my braid. “Now stop talking. This is almost perfect. You look so beautiful, Nia, you could strike a man dead.”
A dark smile. “Well, that is what I’m here for.”
Through the door, Griflet’s voice pierces the wood. “Nia? It’s time.”
With Nivene’s arm looped through mine, we walk into the snowy forest. I’m wearing a cloak over my shoulders, and the sun has started to break through the winter clouds. Still, the cold bites my skin.
Griflet stands by an oak tree and waves to us as we approach. We reach him, and he leads us beneath a canopy of gnarled branches. Sunlight pierces the twisted boughs, and icicles hang from the hawthorn trees like jewels.
As I walk, the ferns curling from the snow brush against my gown.
Talan stands by a wooden altar carved from an enormous oak trunk with intricate swirls and twisting vines. It must have been here for ages because it is clearly worn by time.
He looks perfect, as always. He’s wearing a perfectly fitted black suit and a silver collar of order draped over his broad chest. In the center of the collar is his ouroboros sigil. The midnight blue fabric of his garments looks soft and seems to absorb the light.
His dark eyes find mine, and as they do, the air feels warmer, heavier.
Sometimes, when I look at him, it’s hard to remember that I’ve seen him slit a man’s throat during dinner.
Branches arch overhead, forming a living cathedral that shielded the ground from the snowfall. A carpet of moss leads to the altar. Glowing blue butterflies perch on the boughs around us, and crimson berries dapple the grove, vivid against the snowy branches.
As I step closer to Talan, he reaches for my hands. I slide mine into his.
I can’t quite read the expression in his eyes beneath those dark eyelashes, just the faintest curve of his lips. Almost playful. I wonder how much of this is simple rebellion, marrying a penniless peasant to piss off the father he hates.
Griflet stands before the altar with a large book in his hands. He flips through it, clearing his throat. “We are gathered here today in remembrance of the sacred groves of Avalon, and of the sword of Nimu? in Avalon’s Lake, and of the crown of Morgan, Queen of Night, monarch of the oaks…”
The words send little shockwaves dancing over my skin. The cleric not only referenced my predecessor, Nimu?, the previous Lady of the Lake, but also my grandmother, Morgan, who died centuries before I was born.
As Griflet finishes reading his passage, Talan pulls out a small blue pouch. He turns it upside down, and two rings slide out, one large and spiked like a crown. The other is delicate, thin, like pale gold vines threaded together. He hands me the larger ring, while Griflet tells me to repeat after him.
“By mist and stone, by lake and hollow, I’ll walk with thee through light and shadow. I pledge to thee my sword and soul, two lives now joined, two halves made whole. Two hearts entwined, two fates aligned, with these words, to thee I bind.”
Talan slips the pale gold ring onto my finger, his gaze meeting mine. A strange, unexpected thrill ripples over me as he slides the ring into place, a power that seems to rise from the ground up, charging my body. In turn, I slide the ring onto his finger, and a faint smile warms his features. For a moment, I forget to keep up my shield against his magic. The veil in my mind thins, and a few glimmers of his thoughts slip through.
Night dwindles, midnight candles snuffing out. As day rises over the willows, russet light kisses morning dew drops, a golden breath of mist…
I gather the veil in my mind again, like storm clouds covering the sun.
Talan leans in closer, and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me. Instead, he whispers, “I will bring you back to the castle. I will make sure that you are safe. But then, my princess, I’m afraid I have a traitor to find.”