25. Henry #2
But this is part of the ritual. I can’t opt out.
The mini hourglass on the table is close to running out of sand.
I could stall for a few more minutes and then lie to her once the ritual timer has run out, but as much as I’ve felt abandoned by the Divine, I don’t want to risk upsetting them by violating our customs.
“We need men to guard the wall,” I say after a long pause. “The Drained are getting worse.”
She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at me. She knows I’m stalling.
“Fine,” I huff, lowering my voice. “We need an heir with holy fire or some kind of protection magic. You know how rare that blessing is, Harlow. Like you said, the best chance I have is joining my bloodline with a bloodline that has that magic in their line as well. The families here in the fort who have that blessing only have sons. You were our last resort. If we don’t get supplemental guards soon, we might not last the winter. ”
She purses her lips, considering my words. They tell the truth, but not all of it.
I’ve made sure she hasn’t seen the extent of our staffing issues, only bringing her to places that are fully appointed with hunters, but at some point, she will notice. Maxime’s injury on the wall last night made that much clear.
She clicks her tongue. “Oh, my feral wolf, you are a very good liar. You shared a truth, but not all of it. Pray the Divine don’t notice.”
I grit my teeth in irritation. I don’t know how she knows I lie, but it’s making everything so much harder.
The room erupts in clapping, startling both of us. A quick glance at the timer and I know why. We’ve completed part two of the ritual.
One more step and Harlow will be bound to me. Finally, after years of waiting, after all of the planning, after all of the heartache and grief, I will finally have taken the first step to make it right.
Harlow practically leaps from my lap and gracefully sits back in her seat. Soft laughter breaks out in the crowd as she gulps down the rest of her wine.
The musicians begin to play as the servers bring in the main course.
Even as the feast is served, revelers crowd the dance floor, swirling around the floor in bright flashes of color and black masks.
It’s a relief that everyone seems appeased for now, despite the fact that Harlow is a Carrenwell.
Maybe her speech had the desired effect.
As a server places a steaming bowl of pasta in front of me and Harlow, I slip away from the table and cross the room to the bar.
The server there has my favorite whiskey waiting for me, but I barely get to take a sip before my father steps up beside me.
“You changed the vows.”
I knew this conversation was coming. “I did.”
“Why? Blessing chafing already, son?”
The blessing is something I can master in time. It doesn’t matter if it compelled me to slip up already. I can use the moment of weakness to my advantage. That one moment of surprise was enough to throw her off, especially since she had already said her vows.
I shake my head and glance across the room at Harlow. She’s sipping her wine and glaring daggers at Stefan. She’s a pain in the ass, but at least she knows how to close ranks when it’s appropriate.
I just have to make sure she doesn’t get too enthusiastic and actually murder him. That wouldn’t look good for the family.
“She is very untrusting,” I say. “I needed her to think that I changed my mind last minute. If I had led with those vows, it would have seemed like I was trying to lull her into a false sense of security. An impulse decision is more believable.”
My father’s frown morphs into a smile. “Thank the Divine. I was worried she’s already got her claws in you.”
I smile sardonically. “Only in the most literal sense.”
He chuckles. “Seems like you have this in hand. Are you ready for the final part of the ceremony?”
I nod.
“Is she?”
Sipping my drink, I watch Harlow over the rim of my glass. She hasn’t touched her food, but she’s doing something with mine. Probably poisoning it. I’ll have to make sure someone brings some food up to our room later.
“I guess we’ll see.”
My father pats me on the shoulder. “We’ve waited a long time for this opportunity. This is the last step to solidify this alliance. It will grant us the men we need to guard the wall, and, Divine willing, it will eventually give us some peace.”
I worry that inviting men from Lunameade into the fort will just create a whole new set of problems, but we don’t have much of a choice. We desperately need the support.
Seeing Maxime go down last night was a wake-up call.
My father squeezes my shoulder. “Your mother and I will stay by the door so we’re as far from the ceremony as possible. You can tell Harlow that. It might put her more at ease.”
I doubt that anything will make her feel at ease about getting fucked by the husband she doesn’t want in front of a crowd of people who hate her and her family.
I’m suddenly glad she opted to wear lingerie. It feels like too much to ask her to be naked and vulnerable with so many eyes on her.
I shake my head. What is wrong with me? I knock back the rest of my whiskey and hold out my glass for the server to refill.
“Go eat something. You’ll need your strength. And get her up to dance in a bit. She looks stiff and it might help her relax,” my father says.
I nod and cross the room. Several guests offer their congratulations as I pass, but just as many give me looks of distrust, as if this marriage is a choice I made out of love and not necessity.
Across the room, Stefan is leaning against the bar, talking to several notable fort families.
He looks like a king holding court, all smiles and humor as they laugh at whatever story he’s telling.
It’s easy when you have nothing but theoretical ideas of how to fix our issues.
More and more, it seems that our people are out of patience—that they prefer fantastical promises to hard truths.
By the time I sit down next to Harlow, I’m full of doubt. What if this plan does more harm than good? What if I can’t get Harlow to open up to me fast enough to win my people over?
I stare at my plate, trying to compose myself, and it takes me a full minute to realize that Harlow has pushed my food around and used a long, stringy piece of pasta to spell something out.
Infection?
When I meet her expectant gaze, she’s grinning. “Well?”
I laugh because of the strangeness of the day, because I’m so tense from these expectations, and because I thought my new wife was nervous, but really, she’s just been planning my demise by checking off ways I’ve died from her mental murder list.
The question rebalances the ground between us. I should be angry. We’ve been married a half-hour, and she’s spent the entire time thinking of creative ways to kill me. But I’m relieved that whatever we said in our vows, the truth remains. She is my adversary through and through.