Chapter 17 Mance, Without Livid
Mance, Without Livid
When Heart comes back, the merge is the most painful one I’ve experienced so far.
Not because of her memories, but because of mine.
With Heart’s emotion back in my chest, I am devastated by the way that I treated Silver.
And even more devastated by the fact that he actually left.
I thought for sure, especially after that suspicious explosion by the entrance, that he would show up at my window last night to yell at me.
But he didn’t. He’s . . . gone.
An old fear takes root in my chest, that the ones I love will always abandon me.
That it’s foolish to think otherwise. I’ve been fighting that fear lately, pushing it down, trying not to let it mess up what I have with Silver.
But now that I am staring at the empty branches where Silver used to sleep, it blossoms once again.
This is why I have to do everything alone. Because everyone leaves me eventually. It was only a matter of time until he did, too.
So now here I am, back to being alone in a foreign realm where everyone despises me, where my own father refuses to even see me, and where my fiancé can barely stand my presence. With a wedding planned for the day after tomorrow, and no support from any of the realms. Not a single one.
Azele was sympathetic, and she told me that if we needed an individual or two she would gladly pledge herself or Rift to the cause, but she couldn’t find a way to justify giving her entire realm’s backing in a war just to help me get out of an engagement I don’t want, not when it would mean her own citizens dying.
I’m an idealist, too, she’d said. I wish you weren’t in the position you are.
I wish we lived in a world where hard choices like that don’t exist. But in the world we do live in, idealism needs to be tempered with practicality.
With priority. My people can’t fight every battle; they have battles of their own.
I have battles of my own as well. I’m sorry.
And I understand. She told me a little about the battles she has to wage.
Like how her magic has been developing beyond her control lately, but she doesn’t know why.
How she accidentally turned a rabbit to ash a few days ago, and has been afraid to touch another person since.
Rift stood behind her, anguish in his eyes.
So of course I don’t blame her.
But it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach the fact that I’m on my own again.
Restless in my chamber, I decide to head for the woods, hoping their sun-dappled beauty will soothe me.
But instead I run into Reltas, stepping out of a shadowy clump of trees and looking haggard.
We both pull up short when we see each other.
His features twist into a sour look, like he’s stepped in something rotten, but I ignore that, focusing instead on the weariness in his eyes and the slump of his shoulders.
Then my eyes drift to the woods behind him. And I know what lies in that direction.
“Again?” I ask softly. Despite everything, I feel a rush of sadness that he chose to go through it alone this time.
Knowing that there are people who would have gladly been there by his side, it’s hard to think that he opted to fight that darkness by himself.
Especially when I don’t get that same choice.
I expected him to get defensive, but his guard seems oddly lowered. Perhaps because there’s no point in hiding where he’s been anymore. He only raises one bony shoulder, hair in his eyes, and says, “It can be hard to fight.”
I nod. “I get it.”
He nods back, leaning against a tree, his hands buried in the pockets of his cloak.
And I’m surprised to find that the atmosphere between us is more comfortable now. That we can actually have a conversation like this without animosity.
Then Kiar bursts through the trees and doubles over, panting.
The concern that transforms Reltas’s face is instant and palpable.
His features become softer at first, in the vulnerability of his care for her, and then turn much, much harder.
Like he’s ready to go to war as soon as she directs him.
“What’s happened?” he demands, shoving off the tree and taking Kiar’s shoulders in his hands. “Where have you been all night?”
She’s about to answer when she realizes that I’m there, too, and her eyes narrow to find us, once again, alone together in the woods.
Awkwardly, I look down, occupying myself with shaking dirt off the tips of my skirts.
Kiar continues to glare at me, even as she leans into Reltas and whispers something in his ear. His hand is on her hip and he arches protectively over her, but as she speaks his expression darkens.
Then his eyes cut to me.
“Change of plans,” he says. “The wedding is moved up.”
Kiar’s eyes fly wide and my mind reels. “Moved up?” I ask. “It’s the day after tomorrow. How much sooner can we possibly make it?”
“Meet me in the square in an hour,” he says, nudging Kiar toward me. “She’ll help you get ready.”
Kiar’s expression is fierce and heart-wrenching, but she quickly schools it, turning to me with grim determination. I have a moment of pity for her being asked to dress the bride of the person she so clearly cares for. But then I cast the thought aside and take a step backward, shaking my head.
I can’t get married now. I haven’t come up with a plan yet. And the last thing I said to Silver was . . .
“What about my father?” I ask desperately. “Surely you can’t expect me to get married without ever having met with him?”
“I’ll be sure to extend your invitation to him,” Reltas says, with a cold smile I don’t understand.
Silver
I’ve tried to fling myself out of this carriage multiple times, but just by looking at me you wouldn’t know it. Not a single muscle has so much as twitched, except that my arms keep flailing hopelessly around and then locking up the second before they might actually do something useful.
When Kiar was with me, I spent a good amount of time cursing her out, since the magic doesn’t seem to have a hold on my mouth.
But she only came with me far enough to meet someone coming from the other direction, convey the plan to him, pass him a seed, and then disappear into a weird rift she carved in the ground, presumably headed back to the Forest Realm.
My gut twists as I think about why:
Mance’s wedding is in two days.
And if Mance doesn’t go through with it willingly, then she’ll be subjected to the exact same magic that binds me now. Kiar will be standing by, ready to implant her with the order.
I picture her walking down the aisle with forced steps, going through the rituals of matrimony even as her mind is screaming at her not to, the way mine is screaming now. I imagine her binding herself to another man against her will.
I have to get back.
Mance, Without Livid
A mere hour later, I am wearing white and walking down an aisle.
Kiar left me with four very forceful women, all of whom worked together to muscle me into the gown I’m wearing now.
I haven’t had a second to think, or breathe.
And the dress isn’t making it overly easy to breathe now, either.
It’s beautiful, with glass beads that look like dewdrops embroidered in patterns that spread like delicate explosions, a lovely—although somewhat violent—blending of the original magic of our two realms. I can’t help but appreciate the artistry, especially considering how quickly it had to have been completed.
But a pretty dress doesn’t mean much compared to the fate that awaits me at the end of the aisle.
Around me, the square is beautiful, with gently glowing lanterns strung between the trees, and delicate, sweet-smelling flower petals strewn on the ground.
People are huddled quietly in their balconies, dressed in their finest and clutching candles between their fingers.
There’s a soft, lilting tune in the air, though I can’t see any musicians.
And in the center of the square waits Reltas, one hand extended down the aisle toward me.
Meanwhile, my creatures are in an uproar beneath my skin. My heart feels like it’s going to beat straight out of my chest. None of this feels real, and certainly not right.
The eyes of the realm burn through me, and I take a tentative step forward, if only to appease them, but I need to gather myself before I take another.
Where are all the people I care about? Why, on my wedding day, am I surrounded by complete strangers? Why isn’t anyone ever there for me?
Silver left. My family isn’t here. Clearly, my father chose to ignore my invitation again. And beyond that, not a single Prime in any of the realms has my back.
Swathed in intricate lace and gauzy veils, I have never felt so alone in the world.
What do I do? What options are left to me?
Do I start a war, right here and now?
I take another step.
Do I break Silver’s heart along with my own? Do I commit to a life with the man who once murdered a part of me?
Although . . . our recent interactions have shown me that there is at least some humanity in him. A suffering that matches mine. Over the course of a lifetime, there is a chance we could grow closer. Build something that doesn’t hurt.
It hurts now. Silver’s absence feels like a shard of glass wedged in my side, and I wish I could talk to him about all of this before it’s final. I wish I had been vulnerable in our last conversation instead of hard.
I realize with a jolt that I might never see him again. Because once he hears about this, why would he come back to me?
I should have kissed him goodbye.
Silver
The final minutes of the journey are agony.
We’ve been traveling through the night, but I haven’t slept.
I’m torn between imagining Mance walking down the aisle toward Reltas, never knowing about her father’s death and its implications, and dwelling on the very real possibility that I may never come out of the Citadel at all.
Many don’t.