63. Happily Never After
63
Happily Never After
Aliza
I ’d never been the type of girl to dream of her wedding day. There had been no wistful fantasies of the gown I might wear, no idle daydreams of the perfect groom, or colour schemes, or venues. All I knew was that this was not it.
I hadn’t even been given the chance to wash Idris’ blood from my hands. How much time had passed since he’d disappeared through the portal? Had Sage administered her potions and poultices yet? Was he out of danger? Awake? Did he know what I’d done, remember all I’d said?
My mate. I didn’t need his confirmation. The certainty of it was a warm weight in my bones, like a cosy blanket on a cold night. Idris was my mate, and yet here I was, about to say my vows to another male.
Still dressed in my filthy, torn flight leathers, with windswept hair and tears and blood streaking my face, I trembled in a dimly lit room, while the hastily procured priest droned on in words that may as well have been a different language for all the sense they made to me. The only new addition to my bridal outfit was a cold, unyielding collar. Iron. The ugly, seamless creation deadened fae magic, rendering me as powerless as any mortal. It pressed against my throat, tight enough to prevent me from drawing a deep enough breath to get me through this ordeal.
Apparently, fae didn’t need an altar. Any old broom cupboard would do in a pinch. All that was required was a priest, a pair of witnesses, and a happy couple. It didn’t even matter if the groom already had a wife, not if that groom was a king of unmatched power, at least. Somewhere in this castle, Idris’ mother slept, unaware that her position was being usurped. When she awoke to the news that her husband had a new wife, a new queen, would she care? Surely she had never wanted to marry her first husband’s brother in the first place? Maybe I was setting her free.
Come set me free.
Would Idris remember my words? Had he even heard them?
“Aliza!”
I blinked at the insistent bark of my name, dragging me from my reverie and into the nightmare I’d created for myself.
The priest stared at me pointedly, as though waiting for me to say or do something. Maelgwyn glowered, his jaw working overtime beneath the sad, empty pockets of skin that had probably once made a handsome face. The witnesses, a pair of beautiful but intimidating fae males with sleep-riddled faces, looked as though they longed to snap at me to hurry, to tell me that their beds were waiting and I was keeping them up with my inattentiveness.
“What?” I asked the priest, wriggling my toes in my boots, willing myself to stay present at least for now. After this, my mind was free to take flight, but right now, I needed my wits on my side.
“I asked if you will take King Maelgwyn O’rddaear as your husband? ”
My watery gaze dropped to my hands, encased in the crepey, age-spotted hand of the king. Despite their frail look, they possessed all the strength of a fae male in his prime. He didn’t seem to care that I was caked in Idris’ dry blood; maybe he even relished it.
I lifted my eyes to his hateful, withered face. Did he look in the mirror and see his prematurely ravaged reflection and think all this power was worth the price he had paid? The quiet triumph in his eyes was evidence enough for his love of that borrowed strength. Now he waited to claim mine. As my husband, the power of the throne, mine thanks to a ridiculous, ancient prophecy, would yield to him. I was the final jewel in his crown. I would make his reign untouchable. All that was left to do was say the words.
I licked my parched lips. My tears had sapped all the moisture from my body, leaving me almost as much of a dried-up old husk as my groom. My voice had deserted me, but I cleared my throat and rasped, “No.”
The air thickened to gloop as the silence swelled. Forcing myself to breathe in and out, I ignored the cold pressure of my collar and held Maelgwyn’s stare. This man had cursed his nephews and murdered a child. Countless people, humans, fae and witches alike, had died at his hands. I had died at his hands.
Another breath, deep and slow, filled my lungs.
“You made a bargain,” the king hissed. “You are bound to it.”
“I know, and I upheld it. I stayed, but I never said I’d marry you.” How my hoarse voice remained steady, I didn’t know.
Maelgwyn’s voice, however, simmered with barely controlled rage. “I asked if you knew what was expected of you. ”
“And I do know. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to agree to it.” Some might say that this was stupidity, but I wouldn’t hand this monster unchecked power. I’d take whatever punishments he could throw at me, as long as the people I loved were safe. As long as something still stood between Maelgwyn and the total domination he craved. Even if that something was only me.
He couldn’t kill me. If he did, the throne would reject him outright, passing to somebody else. I had no heirs. Maybe it would go back to Idris. It didn’t matter, because Maelgwyn would not kill me. For better or worse, I would stay alive. I strongly suspected it would be for worse.
Was this bravery? It didn’t feel like it, not as my tense muscles trembled, awaiting retribution.
“I will give you one last chance to end this nonsense quickly and quietly,” Maelgwyn said, his voice cold. “After that, there will be consequences.”
As if I didn’t already know. Did he take me for an idiot?
“Did I mumble? My answer is no.”
One moment, Maelgwyn held my hands, the next, his knuckles cracked across my cheek. The floor crashed into me before I had time to register the pulsing throb in my face. Over the shrill ringing in my ear, I heard his distant order.
“Escort our guest to the tower. I have arrangements to make for her.”
The strong, overpowering hands of the witnesses hooked under my arms, hauling me to my feet. I didn’t bother to fight as they led me from the room, to whatever doom Maelgwyn had in store. What was the point?
Fate awaited me, and I faced her willingly.