Chapter Eight
VIOLET
There is a charge to the atmosphere the moment we are well and truly beyond the border. A gentle hum gradually settles over my skin. It’s familiar. Something so light at first, growing undeniable as we travel farther from the mortal lands.
Magic. I felt it the day I trespassed, but I was too distracted to notice at the time.
I peer out the window, curious to see the fae lands.
We’ve left the forest behind for a vast stretch of land.
The nearly full moon is high above, lighting the way and bathing the world in hues of silver and blue.
Lights of distant cities appear as clusters of fireflies.
There are forests and farms and everything else I’d expect to find in the human lands.
I find it a bit disappointing. It’s pointless to keep us all separated when there is little difference between our lives, and the same crown rules us all.
After a little over an hour more of traveling, we finally arrive at the inn at the edge of a small town the captain of the guard had mentioned earlier.
Other than the buildings retaining more of the natural shapes and textures of the source materials, they are not so different from those in human cities.
The prince offers the option to stay the night and resume in the morning. I decline, saying I would prefer to get the traveling out of the way. Even as exhausted as I am, I don’t think I could sleep a wink.
Everything feels like a waking dream as I’m given a small snack of fruit and sliced meat. Nerves have turned my stomach into knots the further we go, and I only manage to force a few bites down.
The tub is more of a small pool than a tub, carved from a flawless pale stone with a plugged drain in the center, rather than an actual tub. Hot, fragrant water is pumped in through a pipe.
A fae woman washes my hair, then afterward helps me into the dress the prince or one of his people picked out.
It’s a beautiful blue with a design of winter foliage stitched onto the corset and the ends of the long sleeves, with a capelet to serve as a collar and shoulder covering, all trimmed with white fur.
I expected royal clothing to be confining and limiting, especially those intended for women, but it’s surprisingly comfortable.
Once I’ve been adequately prepared for my arrival, we resume the journey. Neither the prince nor I attempts to fill the silence.
I blink and sit straighter, wondering when I had drifted off.
Across from me, the prince is asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. His features are relaxed, making him look a few years younger than when he’s awake and scowling. It occurs to me that I don’t know how old he is.
The carriage has come to a stop. Voices come from outside, too muffled to make out what is being said.
When I reach for the curtain to look, the prince’s fingers wrap around my wrist. Our gazes meet and hold as I allow him to lower my arm.
I don’t see what harm there could be in looking, but I am not curious enough to argue.
A light knock sounds on the door a moment before it opens. The prince releases me, drawing back as if burned.
“Your Highness, dinner is prepared and waiting under the pavilion in the Western Court,” Mingi says.
“Thank you, Captain.”
The prince steps out, and this time, he offers me a hand down. I accept the help as I take in the sweeping palace before me.
It is not the towering fortress I imagined but a sprawling estate surrounded by a solid wall.
The moment my feet are planted firmly on the ground, the carriage turns around and vanishes back through the gate.
We stand in the center of an expansive courtyard with several buildings situated throughout.
Each is connected by enclosed walkways with massive windows.
I see through them to more of the same. Areas of gardens and bridges that cross streams and ponds, and trees that shade the grassy patches during the day.
The prince walks forward, leaving me behind as I take it all in.
I rush to catch up, trailing by a few steps.
His stride is long, and it takes effort to keep pace as we pass several buildings and through one gate, then another.
I smell the fragrant aroma of the food before I see it.
Finally, he leads us down a path to a pavilion.
In the center is a low table laden with various dishes of caramelized meats, fermented vegetables, seasoned with a blend of mouthwatering spices, fruits, soups, and steamed dumplings.
The dining area is lit by two fires, one behind each place setting. Two cushions on either side of the table. The prince takes a seat on one. I follow his example and take the other across from him.
He has been quiet for so long, it’s impossible to tell if he is upset or tired.
He watches me, not eating. I do the same, using his actions as a guide.
“You shouldn’t let it bother you,” I say quietly.
His brow furrows.
“What others think of you. It’s easier to get caught up in rumors than it is to take the time to know someone.”
The prince narrows his gaze with obvious suspicion. “And you think you know me?”
I shake my head. “No, but I would like to.”
He blinks, and his expression softens.
My stomach growls loudly, ruining the moment we were about to have.
One corner of his mouth ticks up before he can rein it in. “Eat,” he says finally. “We will not get another chance until early evening tomorrow.” With that, he plucks a few things from various dishes, and sets them on his plate.
I hesitate for a moment, unsure how to take his long silences, only speaking a few words when necessary. But the answers won’t come by not eating. I gather a little bit of the dishes closest to me onto my plate, then take a bite.
“You will be woken at dawn and readied for the ceremony. Assistants have been assigned to you. As long as you allow them to do their job, there will be nothing to worry about.”
With my mouth full, I nod in response.
“You must behave in a manner that suggests you were born and raised for this role,” he continues.
I swallow, barely tasting the food.
“How am I to do that if I have no idea what is expected of me, let alone without training?”
He lifts his cup and takes a slow sip. Piercing blue eyes hold me captive over the rim until he breaks the spell.
“You have done well so far, Violet. Continue to follow my lead and cues. I will do my best to inform you of anything you need to know beforehand. However, if things go as intended, after tomorrow’s ceremony, it will not be an issue for long.”
I lick a smear of sauce from my bottom lip and narrow my eyes. There is an unspoken meaning within his intentionally vague words.
To figure it out, I work through what I know.
So far, he’s refused to give me any details of how I am to assist him or what he needs my help with, so it stands to reason that no one knows of our bargain, and considering I am bound from speaking of it. And he intends for it to remain that way.
The only reason to speak vaguely now is if there’s a chance we might be overheard.
Whatever his secret, it must be a matter of life and death.
I believe he is trying to communicate that we will only be around to fake our marriage for mandatory appearances and only for unavoidable events, while spending every available second on our mission.
“I understand, My Prince,” I say quietly. His title falls off my tongue, stilted and awkward. Then, I add a message of my own. “I will be what you need.”
He raises a brow as if he hadn’t expected an equally veiled response. An emotion shadows his features, but it’s gone before I can identify it.
As we eat in companionable silence, I contemplate my new role.
There is so much I wish to say and know. Surely, I am not expected to keep from speaking unless addressed directly. Of course, I’ll treat him with respect, but demons help me, I will not cower before him or be treated as lesser.
If others are to believe this is real, wouldn’t they expect to see us talking to each other naturally?
“My… Prince?” I start, unable to keep from grimacing.
If I’m not mistaken, even he flinched.
Pushing aside my uncertainty, I straighten my shoulders and, in a casual tone, say, “Considering we will be bound this time tomorrow, is there perhaps another way I may address you when we are alone?”
I flick a glance to each side.
The prince lowers his hands to his lap as he mulls over the request. The warm fire at my back highlights the sharp yet graceful edges of his perfect features.
“You may call me Joon,” he says, then leans forward to add, “Do not be careless with it—we wouldn’t want anyone to misunderstand.”
“Joon,” I say quietly.
Despite his warning, the ghost of a smile, tinted with sorrow, touches his lips as if it has been a long time since he heard anyone else speak his name.
Exhaustion is a heavy weight pressing down on my body, as my consciousness struggles to break through to the waking world.
“My Lady, you must wake up now,” a gentle voice calls to me from a great distance.
Rustling fabric reaches my ears. Whispered words strip away the layers of sleep that cling to me.
“The seventh bride,” a woman’s soft voice says.
“It’s an auspicious number… perhaps the gods will keep her from the same fate as the others,” another adds.
“Silence. It is too soon to know. We must not say anything that might upset the saints,” yet another says. Her voice is deeper and scratchier with age.
“My Lady,” the first woman says again. Clearer and louder than before.
A heavy flutter of fabric brings warm light shining across my face that pierces my closed lids. When I finally open my eyes, I find a woman who only looks a few years older, leaning over me with a placid expression.
My head swims. Everything in sight is unfamiliar and strange. A jolt of panic rushes through my veins. I sit up and glance around, trying to make sense of everything through my disorientation.