58. Mare
Mare
Ididn’t know why I fled to Brighid's chambers. I could have found Liam or quietly returned to the ballroom. My feet sought this place out, instead.
Teela had seen my distraught face and ushered me inside. She'd returned a few minutes later with a warm pot of tea and given me a comforting pat on the shoulder.
At least Brighid had her, if nobody else.
I sat on the edge of the canopied bed, staring out the window into the night. The door creaked open behind me and tapped closed.
"Strange," Brighid said. She sounded tired. "You have your own chambers, as I recall. Though." Her heels clicked on the floor as she walked around the bed. "You did leave before anyone could show you to them."
"I'm sorry." I lifted my head. “I—”
Brighid braced a hand on the bedpost. "You were caught enjoying some alone time with Reese, I presume?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh, please. He spent the entire ride up here staring longingly at you. That man is an open book." She lifted her skirts and sat beside me.
I ran a hand across my face. "I'm an idiot."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that far." She twisted to look behind as the door flew open.
Bláth blustered in, carrying two bottles of whiskey under her arm. "Look what I got." She held them up triumphantly. "I had a feeling we'd all need to drink tonight."
Dancing across the room, she pulled a cork out with her mouth and handed me the other bottle. Brighid made a sound of disgust. "Where are the glasses?"
"Don't need 'em." Bláth took a long swig from her bottle.
Appearances mattered to me, but considering I'd already ruined my image tonight, I didn't much care. Pulling the cork out, I drank heavily, grateful for the burning running down my throat.
Bláth offered Brighid her bottle. "Want some?"
"Oh, why not?" Brighid snatched the whiskey and poured it down her throat. "This fort," she said, wiping her mouth. "Has centuries of history written into its walls."
Bláth groaned. "You're so boring, Brighid."
"History is not boring. And I intend to spend my last night in good company, talking about something I enjoy."
"Last night?" Bláth echoed. "You make it sound like I'll never see you again."
" . . . figurative last night. Before I'm a married woman." Brighid turned to me. "Have you heard the story of how Bláth and I met?"
Bláth's shoulders hunched forward, and she choked on her whiskey.
"From Bláth's reaction." I shifted on the bed to face them. "It's a good one."
Setting her whiskey down, Bláth stood. "Picture this room as the shittiest brothel you can imagine. Cramped, stained sheets, rotting doors."
I grimaced at the thought, but I needn't imagine it.
Vaf had shown me memories of the real thing.
"I was on the bed, whoring." Bláth pointed to the sheets. "With some spindly young Fireborn man. A lord's son, judging from his expensive coat. And then." She spread her hands.
Brighid chuckled.
"The door bursts open, and in walks the most stunning woman I've ever seen. It took the lordling another two thrusts to realize we had company, which only made things worse."
I closed my eyes, imagining Brighid storming in on Bláth during a business call. It wasn't a hard thing to picture.
"The lady snatched up his clothes and set them on fire." Bláth snickered. "Gods, he was horrified—and he had to flee from the fiery goddess in nothing but his skin."
Brighid tapped her fingers on her glass. "He was my fiancé."
"Oh," I breathed, opening my eyes. "I take it he called the wedding off, after that?"
"Of course he did," Brighid scoffed. "The city knew in short order. My father snatched our family ring back."
"Mmhm," Bláth hummed. "I still remember what Brighid said to me the moment her fiancé fled out the door." She chuckled, closing her eyes. "'I didn't realize whores came in shades of gold."
"I hired her that night," Brighid concluded.
"And saved my life," Bláth said, dropping back onto the bed beside Brighid.
Fondness swam in her golden eyes, in her warm words and gazes.
I felt a strange tangle of emotions. Sorrow, for what they'd been through, certainly, but also joy that they'd found one another.
"You sound like you fell in love," I noted.
"A little bit." Bláth winked.
Brighid rolled her eyes. "Tomorrow, everything will change. From what I've heard through whispers, it will turn in my favor."
"Brighid." Bláth leaned forward. "Why do you sound like you're plotting something?"
"You always say that."
Frowning, Bláth shot me a look. I didn't know Brighid as well as she did—but I could sense Brighid wasn't being entirely honest.
Whatever she hid—I hoped it was only fear. I'd caused enough of a scandal.
"Hm." Bláth looked down. "It's my last chance to convince you to run away."
"I'm not going to run, Bláth." Brighid balanced the whiskey on her leg. "I imagine that fae lord will appear once I'm alone and offer to save me, one last time."
"Are you going to deny him?" I asked.
"Of course I am, dear." Her fingers trembled on the glass. "Of course I am."
I’d never seen such a beautiful wedding venue. Wind tousled the skirt of my dress and tugged white blossoms from the arch. Brighid had kept me safe last night and through the morning, until she herself was swept away to prepare for the ceremony.
I had not seen anyone but her and Bláth since the ball. That would change soon. The bench I stood in front of was reserved for the Paragons.
The bench creaked as someone stepped up onto it and jumped down beside me. Dark blue caught my eye. Relieved, I turned to Diar.
She stared at the ceremony platform, wrinkling her nose. “I didn’t think we had to attend the ceremony.”
“It would be considered impolite if you skipped it,” I said, shifting closer to her as more people wandered to their seats. “I’m glad to see you survived the night.”
“Because I was there to protect her.” Ferris appeared at my other side and flopped down on the bench.
“Um.” I shooed him with my fingers. “That seat is reserved for Paragons.”
“I don’t see any.” He furrowed his brow at the arch. “I’ve had a bad feeling all morning."
Diar leaned forward. “Because of your bird?”
“I told you—it's never wrong.”
My eyes darted around the courtyard, through the branches of the tree, to the roofs of the towers in the distance. I didn’t see any crow.
I wanted nothing more than to question Diar and Ferris about the Diath, about their birds. But Brighid had warned me never to speak of it where another might overhear.
It would have to wait.
Ferris looked up at me. “You disappeared last night.”
“I had too much to drink,” I lied.
“Heh. Well, I think I have good news. Sounds like the Lecovair think it's a waste of time to chase you around with assassins.”
“Yes, but . . . ” Diar gave me a sidelong look. “Agendra doesn’t think anyone will listen to us. In fact, they might just pretend we don’t exist.”
I sighed heavily. “That’s the best we could hope for.”
“It’s Talav shit.”
Ferris chuckled. “Someone's learning curses from Agendra.” He looked over his shoulder. “Speaking of . . . ”
I followed his gaze, and immediately wished I hadn’t. Lord Agendra approached, impossible to miss in his rich yellow doublet. A redheaded man dressed in black walked at his side.
Whipping around, I pretended not to have seen them.
“Hey, kid.” Agendra kicked the bench leg. “You’re in my seat.”
Ferris sighed dramatically and rose. “I guess I’ll go sit all the way at the back.” He winked at Diar and strolled away.
Agendra rested a heavy hand on my shoulder as he passed, letting Reese sit next to me.
Warmth spilled over me as Reese leaned in. “Are you alright?” He whispered.
Steeling myself to lie, I offered him a smile. “I’m perfectly fine—just a little hungover.”
The moment I saw his face, I faltered. He looked torn. Shadows pooled under his eyes.
“This is my fault,” he whispered. “I shouldn't have . . . ”
“I’m the one who said fuck it,” I whispered back.
A faint smile cracked through his sorrow. His brows fell, and his eyes darted around. He looked more than upset—he was worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Reese only shook his head in response. His hand fell to his rapier and curled around its hilt.
A man in white passed us, and I shrank back against my seat. He was a Solheart priest—clad in all white, decorated with a golden sash and crowned with an elaborate headdress meant to resemble the sun.
Never in my life had the sight of a priest made me want to curl up and hide. Now I knew what Liam felt like.
Gasping, I whirled around, searching the growing crowd. Reese touched my wrist gently. “He’s fine.” He nodded toward the guest tower.
Relieved, I collapsed into my seat.
It was going to be a long day.
Chiming bells announced the arrival of the royal procession. Flanked by a dozen guards and Solheart lords, the Queen strolled down the aisle, pale eyes turned toward us.
Reese hastily looked away from her. The Queen’s gaze lingered on him, filled not just with pining and affection but . . .
Reverence? She wore the countenance of a pious woman who knelt before the altar of their god. I leaned toward Reese with a question on my lips, but the priest on the stage motioned for silence.
The ceremony was beginning.
Brighid had warned me the ritual would take ages to conclude. The bride and groom’s families walked in pairs down the aisle—Lord Sorley’s side dressed in all white, while the Astartus family wore burgundy red.
I stared at every one of them with barely concealed contempt. Brighid’s mother, a meek little thing compared to her husband, was every bit the villain her father was, in my eyes.
To say nothing of the wretched Solhearts. Reese glared at Sorley as he ascended the stage and bowed to the priest. His fingers strangled the rapier’s hilt.
Shifting closer, I laid my hand on his—just long enough for him to breathe and release his weapon.
I pulled my hand away, but he caught it and pulled it back. Twining his fingers through mine, he hid our linked hands under his cape.
My heart thudded. Swallowing, I turned back toward the stage and noticed Paragon Agendra staring at us, sharp topaz eyes narrowed.