19. Harlow
HARLOW
H enry said he sent a dress for me to wear to dinner. He did not say it was going to be a barely-appropriate-for-public-consumption kind of dress.
The one-shoulder red silk corset is covered in glittering beads, and the neckline scoops to show a scandalous amount of cleavage.
The silk gathers at my right hip and drops into a flowing skirt with a slit up the right thigh nearly to my hip.
It is exactly the kind of dress that I would go hunting for abusers in.
How irritating that Henry has good taste.
It’s more frustrating that he isn’t here yet and I’m forced to smile awkwardly at a room full of people whose hatred for me is practically a life force.
After our time in the library yesterday and all I learned about the ritual, I’ve been avoiding him.
Not because I’m embarrassed, but because I don’t want to think about the awkwardness of this arrangement any more than I have to.
I glance around the dining room. The tables form a U-shape, with Henry and my table at the top, and his parents beside us.
It’s meant to make everyone feel like they have an equitable place and view of the room, while allowing servants easy access to everyone.
Unfortunately, it also means that everyone has an opportunity to gawk at me.
Gaven is a steady presence at my back, leaning against the wall just out of my peripheral vision. I know it’s a reflex of his to stay out of sight so he’s less intrusive in my daily life, but now I’d like to be more aware of his presence.
I knew I would be unwelcome here, especially after what Kellan shared before I left, but it’s hard to tell if this is because they’re naturally distrustful of outsiders, if they blame my family generally for the massacre, or if they all know what Kellan shared with me before I left.
Even if Kellan hadn’t shared the information about my father’s involvement with me before I left Lunameade, I wouldn’t be surprised if the people of Mountain Haven blamed my family. Protection of both the city and the fort has always been a Carrenwell responsibility.
Most of the faces in the room wear the same mask of irritated hostility. All except for a man at the first table to my right. He looks almost bemused when I meet his dark eyes. His assessment is like having the silk peeled from my skin.
Ignoring him, I pick at the candle wax that has dripped onto the golden tablecloth in front of me and gulp down my wine.
A subtle hush comes over the crowd as Henry steps into the room. He comes to stand beside my chair, bending to kiss my hand with a gentle brush of his lips.
“Good evening to my lovely bride,” he whispers, straightening again.
“Good evening, everyone. I apologize for my lateness. I had to see to an injured hunter who returned with this afternoon’s party.
” He lifts his wine glass and looks around the room.
“Thank you for being here tonight to meet my wife-to-be and to show your support for this union that will provide us the resources and security that we need to continue to flourish here.”
I swear I can feel their skepticism in the way their rainbow of auras flare and dance. People who can’t see magic are usually less aware of the way their auras shift with their moods. It’s an advantage my family is careful not to share much about. You never know when it could be valuable.
Henry gives me an indulgent smile. “Now, my bride-to-be has something she’d like to say.”
My stomach plummets. It takes all my years of impeccable self-control to not react to this surprise challenge. He said nothing about public speaking.
I rise from my seat and smile at the room as a servant hustles forward to refill my wine glass. My hand is so clammy, I nearly drop it when I pick it up. I take a breath, frantically trying to come up with something wise to say to a room full of people who loathe me.
I clear my throat. “I’ve never left the city walls. I know what you’re all thinking—that I have no business marrying your heir.”
Several onlookers’ expressions shift from loathing to surprise.
“You’re right. It would not be my choice if it was up to me.
But centuries ago, when my ancestors discovered the well, the blessing bestowed by Divine Vardek came with a holy duty to protect their clan.
Ten years ago, my family failed to protect the people of Mountain Haven.
That failure cost you friends and family.
That’s a debt I can’t repay. I won’t pretend I can comprehend your losses and there’s nothing I can do that would soothe your grief.
But I’m here now to ask for the chance to try to right the wrongs of the past in some small way—to repent on behalf of my family, by securing your future. ”
I pause and look out over the sea of stunned faces.
Some of them still look skeptical. I’m laying it on a bit too thick, but I’m too nervous and on the spot to lie better.
My stomach roils, and I have to take a deep breath so as not to vomit my wine all over the beautiful floral-wreathed candle centerpiece.
“My magic is strong, and Divine Vardek has blessed my bloodline.” My tone is a little too blunt, but I press on.
“It’s no secret that you’ve lost your heir.
The Divine have mysterious ways, and we cannot imagine their plans for us.
We all know there are both nature and nurture elements to Divine blessings, but I am the last single Carrenwell.
My marrying Henry is the best chance you have to carry on living here safely with future Havenwoods defending your walls with holy fire.
I can’t undo the past, but I can secure your future. ”
The crowd shifts, and I pause to let them take in my words.
“I’m not asking you to love me, or even to like me,” I say. “I merely ask that you tolerate me.” I hold up my glass. “May the Divine bless this union, this feast, and this fort. To the well.”
Everyone repeats after me and sips their wine.
I sit down next to Henry, hoping I didn’t sweat through my dress. The panic in my body dissipates, leaving a dull ache behind my eyes. It could be the wine or my nerves, but it’s the first hint of trouble. My body always knows, the way some people’s bones ache before the sky darkens with a storm.
I take three deep breaths, trying to stave off the attack. I can’t deal with a fort of enemies, a poison-proof fiancé, whatever madness is awaiting me the moment I let my guard down, and excruciating pain.
For the millionth time since my attacks started as a child, I’m frustrated with the inconvenience of being burdened with this body.
Henry leans close. “That was quite a speech, but you’re looking a little pale. Not a fan of public speaking?”
I scoff. “To a room of people who hate me?”
He sighs. “They don’t hate you, Harlow. They just don’t trust you. They don’t trust any outsiders. No traders who visit are allowed beyond the first level of the fort. Since the attack, our people have become much more cautious.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask how exactly the wall came down, but if I ask too soon, he’ll know it’s information I need, and that will just give him more incentive to hold it back.
I glance over Henry’s shoulder toward the man watching me as he sips his wine. “Who is that?”
Henry follows my gaze, and his face instantly darkens. He brushes a kiss to my cheek and leans close to my ear. “Stefan Laurence. His family is important, well-liked, and they’d very much like to be in charge here.”
I hum in amusement. “I do love an ambitious man.”
“Not him, lovely.” Henry nips at my ear. “You are a weakness.”
I scoff.
He whispers before I can argue, “You are my weakness in his eyes. If he can hurt you—or, worse, win you over—it will chip away at the people’s confidence in me.”
Strength above all. It’s what rules this place. I’m starting to see how I could make havoc, but it’s not worth making unless it would result in a better outcome.
“Do not, under any circumstances, go near him,” Henry says.
“Looks like he’s about to go near me.”
Henry’s hand comes to my lower back as he straightens and turns me to face his approaching nemesis. This would be more fun if my head weren’t starting to throb. I cast a glance at Gaven, and a hazy halo forms around the candelabra beside him .
Dread blooms in my chest at the clear sign of a pain episode. I need to get out, and quickly. I look toward the doorway as I take a long sip of my wine. Gaven seems to notice my agitation. I see a question in his eyes, but there’s no easy way out of this room right now.
A bright orange aura swells in my periphery. I turn back to face Stefan. He’s more clean-cut than I would expect of a mountain man, but perhaps he thinks the clean-shaven face and slicked-back dark hair fool people. The look in his dark eyes is too intense.
His magic probes at me. The gifts of the Divine of Malice have tendrils that reach out, looking for a way to hook into their victim.
But this isn’t like what happened with Seth, because Stefan doesn’t have surprise on his side. Fear and manipulation magic requires finding a way into the other person’s psyche. It’s bold of him since he doesn’t know what my magic is, but it wouldn’t be the first time a man tried to test me.
I steel myself, giving him nothing but a confident smile. I’ve met plenty of men of his measure, and most of them are dead now.
He prods at me with his magic, looking for any hint of fear or doubt. When he realizes he can’t get his hooks in me, he draws back and gives me a long, lascivious look. “When I heard the rumors that you were marrying a Carrenwell, I didn’t believe it, Henry. You, of all people.”
Henry’s hand slides from my back to curve around my waist.
“But now I see the appeal, though I thought it would take more than a pretty face for you to forget who failed to keep us safe ten years ago,” Stefan says.