CHAPTER THIRTY #3
A few seconds later, I spotted the high priest emerging from the trees. He was an elderly man, his hair long and white, wearing black robes topped by a tunic embroidered with a blue stag and red flames.
Six Eskalon knights emerged from the trees next, their steel armor silver in the sunlight, each one wearing the blue moonstag.
An honor guard for the king and the prince.
For once, King Tirian walked behind Brennan, his golden crown shining in the sunlight.
But I only had eyes for Brennan, for the way his hair curled, the way his locks looked like pure gold in the late-day sun, and the way his green eyes blazed as they tried to find mine.
His armor was pure silver, polished to perfection and gleaming with every step he took.
His usual blue cloak, the cloak of a knight, had been changed out for one that was red.
The same red as the flames of their sigil.
He looked handsome. Beyond handsome. And powerful, strong.
Like a God.
My heart began to pound as the music shifted and suddenly, everyone turned to me, eyes widening, sweeping over my corset, my skirts, and the hint of Olivay’s beauty that had been hidden behind the veil concealing my face.
“Ready?” Kienan asked.
It didn’t matter if I was or not. It was time to walk.
I nodded, and Kienan led the way, guiding me in slow, careful steps down the aisle.
Abigail moved behind me, pulling up the back of my skirts, keeping them from dragging across the still damp grass.
Brennan held my gaze, the way he had so many times over the course of our engagement.
The way he had that for one brief moment when we were kids, and I had snuck through to the tower to catch a glimpse of Eskalon’s young prince.
But there was something different in his gaze now—a hardness to it. A distrust. Anger.
My heart thumped with every step, and I could no longer look at him, knowing that every step I took brought me closer to hurting him, and knowing that he now knew it, too.
I glanced at the guests, recognizing knights from the tourney, nobles from the engagement ball. There did seem to be a distinct lack of House Bathiner’s presence, something that felt oddly notable when they’d been so present for each previous event.
Was that by the king’s wishes? To not have them as witnesses for the affair? Or had they refused their invitations? Perhaps those not present were related to the three who’d been sentenced today: Erick, Donovan, and Stephen. Or maybe they were simply busy with funeral arrangements.
But as I reached the very front of the aisle, only a few feet away from my betrothed, I found Jaron watching me closely, standing tall in his shining black armor.
Beside him stood his mother, the Almost-Queen, Lady Alena, wife of the late Crown Prince Rowan.
King Nathan’s eldest and heir. Tirian’s older brother. The mother of the would-be prince.
We want the prince.
Jaron watched me with the same look he’d given me last night. Like he knew—knew everything and was just waiting for the right moment to strike. Lady Alena had a matching expression, her eyes dark. She turned her nose up in disdain as I passed.
My chest tightened. And suddenly, I was face to face with my groom.
My prince. Kienan left my side, and Brennan took my hands in his, his grip cool for once, his hold firm.
Not soft, not possessive as it had been in the past, as it had been through events we’d attended together these last couple of weeks.
He was formal, almost indifferent. His thumbs still, not stroking my skin the way they used to.
His golden sigil ring gleamed in the sun.
I looked up at him, but he was looking pointedly away from me, his nostrils flaring. He didn’t want to be here, didn’t want to be doing this. Not now. Not with me. I couldn't think–could barely breathe.
The high priest lifted his arms over his head, and wind blew against the white lace ribbons, rustling through my veil, and Brennan’s hair.
I knew I understood the priest’s words on some level, but it felt like a storm was raging in my head, and I couldn’t process a single thing.
Brennan frowned, his eyes focused the way they did when he was listening carefully to someone.
Then it was time. He spoke his vows, making promises to care for me, to love me, to protect me.
Only he didn’t mean a single word of it.
He was speaking out of duty, out of the need to look strong, to avoid war.
Promising to love a girl who didn’t exist. A girl who wasn’t even there.
When he finished, the high priest looked my way, prompting me to say the words. To make the same vows, to swear care for Brennan, or rather, Crown Prince Jaron. I promised to love him and protect him.
And only when I said I vowed to keep him safe, did the scar on my wrist begin to burn again. It was the vow I knew I would immediately break.
He will die.
The high priest grinned when I finished, nodding to King Tirian.
And it was done. We were married. We were actually married. Everyone was clapping and shouting at us, shouting the same word again and again and again. Just as they had that first night at the tourney, when I had called him Brennan and given away the first clue something was wrong.
“Kiss!”
“Kiss”
“Kiss!”
Brennan’s jaw clenched, and he reached for my veil, pulling it up over my head and revealing my face. Olivay’s face. His eyes blazed, staring into mine as he took a sharp breath, his brows furrowed.
And then he leaned in, his breath on my lips, soft and smelling of fresh mint.
“Can I?” he asked. “Can I kiss you again?”
I could only hear the drumbeat of my heart in my ears. Could only see the green of his eyes. My stomach knotted and twisted and then heated with want, with desire. His face was still, but so close that our noses touched.
“You know what will happen,” I said.
He blinked and nodded. He knew, but he was asking anyway. His eyebrows lifted, the same question was in his eyes.
“Yes,” I said.
It was brief and chaste, just a soft press of his lips against mine.
Nothing like the kisses we’d shared before.
Alone or in public. But despite the stillness of his lips, he kept them pressed to mine, his touch lingering and sending shivers down my spine until heat coiled low in my belly. Then something uncoiled. The Azete.
He pulled away, just as the thing inside me began to feed.
“To the married couple,” King Tirian yelled out.
Brennan took my hand in his, raising it above our heads. Finlay and Thomas began to play anew, and the cheers and shouts of congratulations rang out along with calls of House Lafir’s words. “From the ashes we rise, we fly.”
I turned back to the audience. Seeing Jaron’s eyes darken as they appraised me. Brennan was leading me quickly back down the aisle, almost racing past our guests. And then I saw one I had missed—a pair of dark eyes and oily hair in the last row. Geoffrey.
He grinned widely and chuckled, reaching out a hand and grabbing my wrist, stopping our procession.
“Congratulations to the happy couple,” he said and bowed low
Brennan’s nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing at Geoffrey’s hand on me.
“Thank you, excuse us,” Brennan said curtly, and tugged me away.
“I look forward to celebrating with you,” Geoffrey called out. “Especially the bedding.”
Brennan pulled me around a corner. Once we were inside, my back was pressed to the wall. “I’ve been trying to get you alone all day,” he hissed.
“Well, you have me now.” My heart thundered.
“Barely.” He frowned. “We have minutes at best. The priest will hold them outside to give us privacy as newlyweds—he’ll make a few statements. But they’ll be swarming the lodge any moment.” Brennan turned his head, his eyes widening as he spotted a doorknob next to my hip. He turned it, and gasped.
It was a small pantry, large enough for several people to stand inside–with a small window facing out toward the trees. But most importantly, it was empty.
He didn’t hesitate, he grabbed my waist, and pulled me inside, slamming the door shut. I leaned back against the wall, my chest heaving as I stared into his eyes. His scent filled the space, his musk, his spices. Him.
“Well,” I gestured around us. “You have me. What do you want to say?”
His brows furrowed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know. But I don’t like where things are.”
“Then change them,” I said. “You’re the crown prince of Eskalon.” I pointed out the window. “You could run, escape right now. Or march out there and tell the truth. Turn me in.” I bit down on my lip, a painful burn exploded down my arm. The blood oath.
“Run?” Brennan asked. “Turn you in?” His neck turned red. “You think those are the solutions? You think that’s what I’d do? Who I am? Have these weeks together shown you nothing about me? All we shared, all we talked about and confessed? Was that not real? Were you lying to me even then?”
“No,” I cried. “It was real.” I reached for his heart. “It is real.”
He pressed his hand over mine. “So what would you have me do?” he asked. “Hurt you? Hate you?”
My eyes watered. “I would understand if you did. I would deserve it. I’m not a good person, Brennan. I’m a monster. You’ve seen what I can turn into.”
“You’re not a monster. I’ve seen them before. Fought them in the wild. Met them at court. I even saw them chained up last night for touching you. There are many monsters in this world, and I’ve seen what you can become. You’re not one of them.”
But he didn’t know. Didn’t know what I did to my mother. What I was going to do to him.
His jaw clenched, and he pulled his hand away from mine, his gaze turning toward the window.