Chapter Fifteen
Dietan
Well, that’s never happened before.
No one speaks, even as the door slams shut in Aren’s wake. All eyes turn to me, and everyone is undoubtedly wondering: has anyone ever declined a prince’s marriage proposal?
Someone coughs in the awkward silence.
This is not how I expected things to go. Granted, maybe I should have told Aren about my plan beforehand. But I’d felt such a rush of emotion upon seeing her again after our conversation this morning—and I must get my mission underway.
She’s perfect. Despite the smallest of pangs in my heart, I’m sure she’ll be relieved that she won’t have to marry me after all!
I’ll settle her with enough gold that she never has to wait another table in her life, and she can marry whomever she chooses after this adventure. She’s clearly made of steel; she can handle anything the mission throws at us. She’s good company, too, and would keep me on my toes for the journey.
More than that, I need someone whose heart I can’t break. I’m pretty sure Aren despises me.
But my racing thoughts feel hollow like perfectly concocted little lies. Perhaps I’m just as terrible as the men who wanted to use her…but in less dangerous ways.
I scramble to my feet. “Aren, wait!”
I rush after her into the rain, splashing through the streets. She’s headed to her tavern, and I catch up just as she disappears through the doorway.
But the moment I step into the Raven’s Beak, a mug comes hurtling at my head—
I duck at the last second, and the mug shatters against the wall.
The tavern is empty, since everyone is at the party at the town hall. Aren stands behind the bar, keeping a barrier between us. Even from this distance, I can see how her eyes shine.
Oh, crap.
I drag a hand over my face. What have I done?
I didn’t mean to hurt her. How could I? She doesn’t even like me.
Of course, I still assumed she’d say yes to my proposal—or at least hear me out.
I’ll clarify that I’ll pay her for her trouble, and she won’t actually have to marry me.
The idea came to me after she told me she never wanted to marry anyone—not even a prince.
She said she wanted nothing more than to travel, did she not? It’s a win-win all around.
“Don’t you dare humiliate me,” she howls with wild eyes. I’ve never seen anyone so furious with me.
“What do you mean? I have no intention of humiliating you,” I say, holding my hands up, attempting to calm her down. “I honestly didn’t expect this reaction. People usually love me. I thought you’d be happy.”
“You’re playing me for a laugh, and I won’t stand for it! Prince or not, you can’t treat me like that!”
“It’s not a joke, I swear!” I scramble to make her believe me as I approach her. “Anyone would want to marry a woman who makes biscuits like you do—”
She throws another mug at my head, and I duck again, ceramic shards ricocheting off the wall and scattering around me.
“You’re just like the rest of them!” she shrieks. “Don’t you see that sign? Can’t you read?” she screams, pointing to a blackboard with a list of house rules, one of which, apparently is “No Marriage Proposals.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine! I’ll buy the next round! I’ll buy all the rounds!” I say, trying to placate her.
The next mug lands too close for comfort. Shit. “Okay, I surrender—please—just listen for one moment, will you?”
Perhaps Aren’s anger is dissipating—or more likely, she’s out of mugs, because now she’s merely standing there, hands balled into fists at her sides, eyes blazing with fury.
“Thank you,” I say, risking standing up straighter.
“I meant what I said—you’re perfect for me— Just wait!
” She moves to grab a plate next but pauses, letting me speak.
“You know that I’ve got my reasons, and I meant that proposal with every fiber of my being.
But it’s tough to explain with you threatening to bash me in the head every time I open my mouth. ”
Aren purses her lips as if she’s holding back every curse she knows. The heat of her glare could light a bonfire.
“I promise you, my proposal is not a joke. My future—everyone’s future—depends on this. Can we at least discuss my proposition?” I ask.
“I will never, ever marry a lousy, spoiled prince like you.”
“Great. That’s perfect. I don’t want to marry you, either. That’s exactly why I chose you. Can you sit down and hear me out?” I motion to a nearby table and chairs.
My response must have taken her by surprise, because the murderous look on her face evaporates. “What?”
“I said, I don’t really want to marry you, either.”
“I knew it.” Aren looks as if something large and painful is trying to crawl up her throat. Her face scrunches up, and her eyes turn glassy.
Damn! Every time I open my mouth, I put my foot in it.
I realize I might have said something truly heartless, but I didn’t mean it that way.
I hurry to explain. “You know the real reason I came to Evandale. The Rings I carry. Veteria. The bride search was a ruse. The truth is that I never intended to marry anyone, but I do need your help to pretend that I am.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I wish you’d said yes so we could have avoided all this.” I wipe my brow with my handkerchief. “Now you’re really going to have to pretend to be in love with me to make everyone believe it, or I’m toast.”
Her forehead scrunches in confusion. It’s kind of cute.
“I didn’t mean to surprise you, but with everyone watching, it was the first thing I could think of. And I thought it was perfectly romantic,” I say. “I really thought I could sell it.”
Aren scoffs. “What possessed you to think I would say yes?”
“My wit? My looks?” I laugh. She doesn’t. “And my title? I am a prince, you know.”
Wrong answer. She narrows her eyes and cocks her head, looking at me like I’m a bug she’s about to squash. “Tell me the truth. Why did you ask me to marry you?”
I know it’s a risk, but I have no other choice. I need a bride to parade through Alarice and Loegria, to fool the Usurper’s spies watching my every move. Who else could I ask to do such a thing?
“As you know, I need to go to the Great Waste.”
That gets her attention.
“No, you musn’t.” She shakes her head in worry. “I know I told you about King Osian but Veteria said you shouldn’t go.”
“Too late. Just hear me out! You’d make a perfect cover for me, to pretend we’re going to ask the Oracle of Alba to bless our marriage.”
She studies me for a long moment. “That’s crazy.”
“I know how it sounds…but listen. I need to get to King Osian’s castle without tipping off the Usurper’s informants.
With a bride on my arm, I can travel across borders on a Wedding March and get the Oracle’s blessing at Alba, as the unification treaty demands of a royal marriage, without escalating existing tensions into war. ”
She eyes me with suspicion, hand still at the ready to throw a plate when needed.
“Please. Otherwise Loegria and Alarice are both doomed. And the Kilandrar will find me and kill me.”
She’s still looking at me, her dark eyes shining with empathy instead of disgust.
An understanding passes between us, and for the first time, I feel seen—honestly seen.
This is my chance, and I take it. “I need a cover story for this journey to the Waste, and I humbly request your help. I’ll do whatever you ask of me in exchange.
This is a business proposition, so name your terms. If you want payment, I will see that it’s tripled.
You said you want to get out of this town, to travel?
You have no obligation to marry me once this is over. It’s just for show.
“I left the capital with war looming, and every day I’m away is one my father spends preparing to face the Usurper without me. But this is the final, necessary step. I have the Rings of Fate, and I need to get them out of me before Penrith invades.”
Aren keeps watching me cautiously, as if calculating many things at once. If she says no, I’ll need to rethink my whole plan. I’m not sure I’d have a plan at all.
“What will happen to the unification treaty if we don’t get married?” she asks. “After we’ve gotten the blessing from the Oracle?”
“Worried you’ll actually have to marry me?
” I smile to lighten the mood, but the expression feels tight, like a grimace.
I’m getting this all wrong. “Once I deal with the Rings—and pay you handsomely for your help, of course—we can always say that we discovered our insurmountable differences during the Wedding March. They don’t tell you this, but that’s one of the reasons to have a Wedding March: drag the newly betrothed couple from town to town for weeks on end and see if they kill each other.
I’m told my parents almost did, several times. ”
Aren laughs, a bright and welcome sound, and I’m almost convinced she won’t murder me during our journey.
“As long as we part ways before the wedding and there’s no divorce, it won’t be the worst scandal.
The people are on edge because of the Usurper; I say why not give them something harmless to gossip about?
I’ll go straight to my grandfather’s court, offer my profuse apologies, and meet a bevy of noble Alarician ladies who I’m sure will be thrilled I’m available once more.
” I can’t help rolling my eyes. Aren laughs again.
But then her eyes flick toward something over my shoulder, widening in alarm.
All at once, I’m ripped backward with such force, the air rushes out of my lungs. I’m briefly airborne before crashing into a nearby table. Pain pops along my back, sending white dots across my vision as I slam into another table, knocking it over.
My ears ring, and pain radiates up my spine. Tears blur my eyes against my will. Dazed, and gasping for breath, I lever myself upright. I come face to face with a creature of darkness. My stomach drops.
They’ve found me.
It’s the monster that haunts my dreams. I can see through its body to the other side of the tavern as it takes solid shape. Gray dust and dirt swirl around it like a humanoid tornado, growing stronger with each passing second. Tentacle-like appendages extend from its form, reaching for me.
Unblinking coal-black eyes stare back at me, strangely still and unchanged, as this creature made of wind raises itself up for another attack.
I sigh.
The Kilandrar are back.