Chapter Seventeen
Aren
I find Dietan passed out in the tavern the next morning, just like the day before.
Still sound asleep in the kitchen, right where I’d left him, except he’s sitting properly in the chair this time, his arms folded over his chest and his head tilted back, neck uncovered and exposed to the air.
Way too trusting for a prince to present his exposed neck as an offering like that.
Daring a steady blade to finish the job, if you ask me.
He’s clearly too used to being surrounded by solicitous guards. Or maybe I’m just irritable.
I frown at him as I count all the empty bottles around him. What a mess. I scoop some water from the freshwater basin into a cup and toss it onto his face. Take that, your royal highness.
He sputters awake, gasping and coughing, as water drips from his blond locks onto his white shirt. “Whoa, what happened to the sweet wakeup from yesterday?” he whines, wiping the water from his face with his sleeve, looking satisfyingly put-out. “Is there breakfast?” he asks hopefully.
“You should leave now,” I tell him with all the warmth of a winter day. “Your royal entourage is waiting.”
It is, after all, the day he said they planned to depart.
He sets his mouth into a thin line as he empties his pockets, placing a thick stack of gold coins on the counter. “For the ale, my sweet maiden,” he says. “And to set your tavern to rights.”
I manage a smile that feels strained, even to me. I check the stack of coin, which is more than enough for repairs and then some. But is it enough to make up for bringing unnatural terror and destruction to my peaceful town?
In the clarity of daylight, I just want him out of here. The sooner this stupid cursed prince is out of my life, the better.
I walk over to the back door and unlock it, swinging it wide into the rainy morning as Dietan stiffly rises from the chair.
“Your exit, Your Worship,” I say.
He nods. “The pleasure is all mine.” He’s about to step outside but stops, his face turning ashen.
“What? What is it?” I ask warily. My bones feel a thousand years old. My nerves are beyond shot. I don’t think I can take any more surprises. What now?
Wordlessly, he points to the doorway.
On the ground outside is a man lying face down in a puddle. Great. Another drunk.
Except he’s not moving, at all.
Cold dread slithers down my spine as I stifle the urge to vomit. Oh, goddess. No.
Dietan rushes forward and turns the man over in the mud.
I gasp. He’s one of the royal guards; I remember he helped roll the ale barrels to the town hall.
His face is still frozen in terror, his eyes bulging, mouth open in a soundless scream.
But there’s no trace of blood on him, no sign of violence on his person.
He just looks…like he had the breath stolen out of him.
Dietan presses his fingers against the man’s neck. He shakes his head and then looks up at me, stricken. “The Kilandrar,” he says.
My stomach churns with horror and guilt. It must have killed him after we chased it out of the Raven’s Beak. He was probably killed by the Kilandrar in this very spot while we were tending to our wounds, and we didn’t hear a thing.
We stare at the body.
Then, as if remembering his position in the world, Dietan leans over the man’s corpse and recites a hushed prayer. I recognize the Words of the Fallen, asking the spirits to help the man find his way home to the fields of gold. When Dietan’s done, his hands are shaking.
“Bless this man and his service to Albion,” Dietan whispers. “I thank him for the gift of his life. Blessed travels.”
“Blessed travels,” I echo.
With a final nod, Dietan sits back on his heels and pushes his hair from his face, rain soaking him to the bone as he looks helplessly to the sky.
My dread only compounds the longer I stare at the lifeless body.
A man’s life was snuffed out by magic as untouchable as the wind.
How can anyone stop creatures like the Kilandrar? How can he ask me to face them again?
I can feel Dietan staring at me, and when I meet his gaze, I can barely breathe.
His eyes are full of conviction; his determination tugs at my heart.
Rain and tears roll together down his cheeks.
He’s angry, and he is brave, and right now, more than ever, he’s the prince of Loegria.
Noble and proud and carrying the suffering of his people.
…
Later that morning, the royal carriages are restocked for the road, and their horses stomp in the mud, restless to get back on the road.
But my sisters aren’t with them. Lord Jared, Ophelia, and Sonja have been ordered to stay behind.
Three were lost to the Kilandrar last night, and it is much too dangerous to travel.
The prince has instructed his friend and a couple of remaining guards to secure the town and then escort the twins to Lundenwic when it’s safe.
All of Evandale has turned out to say goodbye and watch the prince and his entourage leave—except for me. I’m here for a different purpose.
I’m surprised to see Dietan securing the rest of the bags alongside his men when I approach. I’m carrying a rucksack that holds everything I own in this world, including my trusty skillet and pouch of healing herbs.
I’ve been wrestling with my decision since this morning.
“Fine. I’ll do it,” I announce without preamble. “I’ll marry you.” There are rapturous cheers from the onlookers. I see the marquis absolutely seething amongst the happy crowd. I guess he was right to be worried about me after all.
I lower my voice so only Dietan can hear. “I mean, I’ll pretend to marry you.”
To my surprise, he shakes his head. “No.”
“No?” I huff. I want to strangle this annoying man. “Isn’t this what you want?” I whisper through a gritted smile. “I thought you’d be ecstatic.”
Dear goddess, is he going to make me beg? Some men like that sort of thing. But I’m not going to beg; I’m going to murder him.
He latches the final strap. “After I left the Raven’s Beak this morning, I walked the town for hours, thinking over what I’d asked of you, what dangers lie ahead, and I realized I made a mistake.”
He leans down and looks me in the eye, and I know we’re both remembering the horror we just faced in my tavern.
To the town, this must look like a sweet lovers’ conversation, not a deep discussion about the future of the kingdom.
I can’t stop thinking about the guardsman’s bulging eyes and pain-stricken face.
“I was wrong to even ask. I won’t put you in harm’s way,” he says, looking weary and much older than his twenty-two years. “I can’t.”
“But if I don’t go with you to Alba, it imperils your mission and both kingdoms,” I remind him. “You need me.” I can’t believe I’m trying to talk him into taking me on this death march. So much for not begging.
“I don’t. Aren, I’ve changed my mind. I can’t bring you into this. It’s just too dangerous. I never should have asked in the first place.”
I will not let him break up with me in front of this entire town before we are even fake-married.
“But you did ask, and the answer is yes,” I say sternly. “You came to Evandale to find a bride, didn’t you? Well, here she is.”
When he doesn’t reply, I press on. “This is what you planned to do, so let’s do it.” I silently beseech him to take me at my word before I lose my courage. I could stay—just go home and hide from these living nightmares, under Lord Jared’s protection.
Dietan studies me intensely. “Are you sure?”
“You said you’d pay triple, right?” I flash him my best smile, and I name my price. This is a transaction, as he said, nothing more. I can make sure Father’s taken care of with or without Lord Jared’s charity—and still have my freedom at the end of all this.
If I survive.
Finally, he relents. “If I agree, you must promise me that you will leave with my guards the minute there is trouble. You will come back here or go to court or wherever else you want to go. I can’t put you in danger, or I would never be able to live with myself.”
“Deal.” I shrug as if it’s all the same to me, even as my heart seizes at the thought that he might send me away in the future.
I tell myself I’m here for the money, but to be honest, I know I can’t let him face those monsters on his own.
“This is what you wanted, right?” I say, as if I don’t care what he thinks.
He shrugs an even bigger shrug. “Fine. Have it your way, Aren,” he relents. I can see the pain behind his eyes, and I know the road ahead of us will be bumpy.
Dietan turns to the crowd and announces we are officially engaged. The crowd whoops and hollers in joy at the news.
If the people of Evandale are surprised by the swift turn of events, they take it in stride.
A royal bride has been found! Right in their own town!
There should have been a party to end all parties, but the prince and his betrothed (who would normally be catering any such party) are to leave right away.
The twins are beside themselves with happiness when I find them in the crowd. “Oh, Aren! You’ll be a princess!” cries Sonja.
But I can’t fool Ophelia. She takes my hands in hers and pulls me close. “But tell me, do you love him? Does he make you happy?” she asks. “I don’t care that he’s a prince.”
I smile ruefully, hoping that I can still fool my younger sisters. “I’m happy enough. And I can… I can learn to love him, I suppose?”
Ophelia whispers in my ear. “I do hope so, my dear sister. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
“We will see you at court!” Sonja says gaily.
“Take care of yourself, my dearest,” says Father, who’s leaning on his cane.
Bonnie comes to bid me farewell and promises to take care of the Raven’s Beak in my absence.
She’ll look after the business until my father can find a buyer.
I don’t trust myself to linger any longer after giving her a swift hug goodbye.
If I stay one more minute, I might change my mind. Or cry. Both are bad.
When I hop inside the carriage and shed my cloak, I notice the prince staring at me with a small, pleased smirk. I smirk right back. Insufferable man.
“What?” I demand.
“I knew you’d change your mind,” he says.
My cheeks heat. “Shut up.”
“You’re not the type to refuse to come to someone’s aid.
” I’m almost charmed, especially after everything we’ve already faced together.
But then he adds, “Or maybe you just can’t resist me.
” He leans closer in the seat across from me and waggles his eyebrows, and I’m back to being annoyed with him. Does he ever stop flirting?
“I said, shut up.” I don’t look out the window as the carriage starts moving because I don’t want to watch the town disappear behind me. I will not cry in front of Dietan, who is far too smug given the dangers ahead.
I lean against the wall of the carriage so our knees won’t touch. “Fiancée in name only, mister.”
Dietan raises his hands in supplication. “As my lady commands.”