Chapter 48
Huntyr
“Wow,” Tyla breathes, sitting back against the headboard of the bed with a dramatic sigh when I finally finish the elaborate tale.
I spared no detail, telling her all about that initial attraction to Derian at the ball and explaining how I’d accidentally killed the wrong Fae.
I told her the details of the Conclave and its rules.
I told her about the monster Seraphina had been and how I’d come to view Alexandria as somewhat of a friend.
She’d fought back tears as I explained each of the trials, including the final trial where I’d felt my very soul break apart and stitch itself back together again.
“I just—” Tyla pauses, rubbing her fingers over her brow. “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with the Fae prince.”
I blink at her.
“That’s what you’re thinking about after that entire story?”
She gives me a soft smile. “Well, of course you won the Conclave, Huntyr. You’re the fiercest person I know, and I definitely want to circle back to the fact that you’re part Fae eventually.”
“But?”
Her eyes go a bit gushy as a blush spreads across her cheeks. “He is very handsome.”
Kaia gives the feline version of a laugh from Tyla’s other side, and Tyla finally reaches down to stroke the area behind her ears, grinning as the beast lets out a soft purr and pushes herself closer to my sister.
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” I tell her dryly. “The last thing he needs is anyone else stroking his ego.”
She shifts next to me, pulling at the collar of her dress. Absently, I notice it’s a bit too large, and dirty from her trip. I’ll have to speak to Derian about getting her some clothes. Mine will be too big for her, but they’ll have to do for now.
“Do you love him?”
I freeze, jostled out of my thought spiral by those four little words.
“What?” I exclaim. “Of course not!”
“Well you’re intimate with him—”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with seeking pleasure in another person, even if you don’t have an emotional connection.”
Derian was hardly the first person I’d had sex with. I didn’t love anyone who came before him, and I certainly don’t love him. Certainly not.
She gives me a small sympathetic smile. “You’re also marrying him.”
“Why would you think that?”
Kaia and Tyla share a long look, and I get the sneaking suspicion that the two of them are somehow united against me in this, both understanding something that I don’t.
I’m not particularly fond of that fact.
“You won the Conclave, Huntyr.” Her voice is dry, as if she’s pointing out a simple, obvious fact.
Which, yes, obviously I won the Conclave.
That doesn’t mean I am actually going to marry Derian, though. I was never actually going to marry him. I just haven’t told her about my plan yet, my very clear, well-thought-out plan, with easy-to-follow steps.
Win the Conclave.
Get the healing tonic.
Kill the Fae Prince.
Wait…
I jolt, jumping out of the bed and running a hand over my face, ignoring the urge to lock my knees and clench my shoulders together as my mind begins spinning.
I’d come here for two reasons: to get the healing tonic for Tyla and to get revenge for my father.
I’d accomplished that first goal, but the second? Knowing what I know now, killing Derian won’t actually accomplish that for me. Derian and his people aren’t responsible for my father’s death.
The Velkai are.
And if I want to fight back against them, I have to do two equally important things. I have to embrace whatever magic lives inside of me, and I have to stay here to fight the Velkai.
Three facts begin ringing clearly in my mind.
One, I am going to stay in the Fae kingdom.
Two, I’m not going to kill Derian.
And three, I won the Conclave, and the winner of the Conclave gets the hand of the prince.
Shit.
I turn back to Tyla, my braid swinging so wildly over my shoulder that it nearly smacks the other side of my face.
“I'm going to marry him.”
Tyla nods, grinning as if this little spiral of mine is the funniest thing she’s seen in ages, even as her eyes bounce from my face, over my shoulder, and back.
“I’m marrying Derian!” I cry out shrilly.
“That is the plan, Huntress.”
I jump a foot into the air, so wildly off-balance by the realization that I didn’t even hear him re-enter the room. He walks towards Tyla, a plate piled high with meats and potatoes extended towards her. She takes it with a grateful smile.
“You don’t understand.” I wave an accusatory finger at him, but I’m not even sure if I’m talking to him or myself now.
“Pretty sure I understand,” he says, glaring at Kaia as he steps back. “I am the other half of the marriage, after all.”
No, no he doesn’t understand. Neither of them understand.
“This wasn’t the plan!” I’m practically screaming, pulling at the roots of my hair as I rest my hands on the top of my head and walk myself in a circle. “I never break away from my plan.”
“What was your plan?” Tyla asks around a mouthful of food. Kaia scoots closer to her, nudging her with a paw, and she offers the Eshari a potato.
I force myself to breathe, quick inhales and exhales that feel impossible.
“Win the Conclave. Get the tonic. Kill the prince. It was a beautiful, effective plan.”
Derian lifts a brow. “So you were planning to try and assassinate me again.”
“Well it doesn’t matter now!” I cry, throwing my hands in the air.
He and Tyla share an amused look, which only infuriates me further.
“It matters a little to me,” he says sarcastically as he grins at me.
I can’t stop picturing myself in one of those ridiculously puffy white dresses. Married. Me, married!
Gods, how many people will be there? Derian is a prince after all, there will be dozens, if not hundreds, of people there to watch this ceremony. People that will all stare at me as I vow the rest of my life to him.
I have never pictured myself as a bride.
I am not one of those women who dreamed of that day as a girl. I have always been far too busy sharpening knives and planning murders to ever worry about life-long commitments. I’m better suited to be covered in blood than I am to be draped in lace and pearls.
And that’s just the ceremony! I also have to consider the marriage that comes after the pomp and circumstance.
We’re going to be tied together for the rest of our lives.
Fuck, how long will I even live for?
The Fae live centuries longer than Mortals.
Granted, I’m only half-Fae, but what exactly does that mean for my lifespan?
Am I going to be married to Derian for centuries?
“Have you noticed the wrinkle she gets between her eyebrows when she’s thinking too hard?” Tyla dramatically whispers to Derian.
“Oh believe me, I have.”
I stare at them.
They stare back at me.
The corner of Derian’s lip quirks into what is undoubtedly the start of one of his teasing smirks.
That’s it.
I can’t be here. I can’t be in this room with the three of them, who suddenly all seem united in their amusement at my inability to process the inevitability of this marriage. I unsheathe two of the daggers on my belt and stomp towards the door.
“Where are you going, Huntress?”
“To find Cal.”
His eyes follow my movements. “What do you need Cal for?”
“I need to fight someone, and he dislikes me enough that he won’t go easy.”