Chapter Nine
JOON
Imugi floats through the wall as if they were made of nothing more than mist and shadow.
Upon birth, all fae of royal blood are bonded to a demon who has proven their heart is free from greed and hate.
Our magics are irrevocably linked and multiplied for life.
It is a test to ensure those who rule are strong enough to do so without being corrupted by the immeasurable power.
At any sign of a mismatch, the ritual is stopped, and that child remains unbonded for life, never eligible to sit on the throne.
There have only been a few instances since the kingdom was established.
Imugi comes to hover near my shoulder.
“And where have you been? It’s not like you to hide for so long,” I ask, without taking my eyes from the view outside the window.
The sky is a ceiling of thick, gray clouds, occasionally allowing the sun to shine through temporary openings before swallowing it up again.
It is the last few minutes before the preparations begin. I would gladly skip this part if I could. It is not as though anyone of note will be there. Nobility and officials have not bothered attending since my fourth bride came to the palace.
“I have been investigating,” they say. “An unusual presence has been lingering since the incident at the bridge.”
That snags my attention. “How so?”
The demon dragon shakes their head. “Something about it is familiar, but it is too faint to pinpoint.”
Could the curse be reaching out its long fingers, ready to consume me once and for all? Or is it the beginning whispers of a treasonous movement?
“The frost bloom already flows within her,” Imugi states. Their glacial eyes flash with flecks of a glowing golden-red, then back to normal.
One must look for it to find it. I glance sidelong at them. “You checked.”
“It is fortunate the thief knew how to use it effectively, wouldn’t you agree?” The demon is less than subtle.
“It does not matter how she stumbled across the knowledge, but that it is in my possession, and nothing of this kind will happen again.”
Imugi’s head swivels toward the door at the sound of approaching footsteps. “It is time to ready yourself for your bride.”
“Go, see what more you can learn about this presence.”
Wordlessly, the demon departs through the walls like mist.
Mingi enters without knocking and hurries to my side.
“I have done as you asked, My Prince. Iseul was all too happy for this assignment.” He shakes his head and chuckles under his breath. “She seems to think the two of them will become the best of friends. It will be a nice reprieve from her constant nagging to help.”
“I appreciate your willingness to put your sister in this situation. It is not entirely without risk,” I say, then, quietly, I add, “I know she is all the family you have left.”
Mingi’s expression softens. “You will always have our loyalty. We know who you are, even if you’ve forgotten.”
By the time the arduous preparations were finished, the sky had cleared. From where I stand, I have the perfect view of her. The late afternoon sun shines down, turning her dress a pale…
Violet.
It is no secret that a death sentence is the burden of being my bride. Yet rather than walking toward her untimely end with downcast eyes, Violet’s head peeks between the gaps of her entourage as she tries to see around them. More curious than afraid.
Violet’s steps falter as she leaves the covered pathways, and the full scale of the Temple Tower comes into view. In contrast to the ground-level structures of the rest of the palace, the temple’s several stories make for an imposing silhouette.
The bridal procession stops at the base of the steps, leaving Iseul to lead her the rest of the way.
Within the shadows of the antechamber, Violet blinks to adjust her vision. Warm honey eyes pierce the veil covering her face. Their color contrasts against the icy colors of her clothing. Her gaze briefly passes over Mingi before coming to land on me.
Her mouth forms an uncertain pout as I approach, but she takes my offered arm without hesitation. Used to my brides approaching me with fear, I am momentarily taken aback by her lack of it.
Violet’s fingers curl, gripping my sleeve, and without thought, my other hand moves to rest atop hers. She glances curiously at the touch, then faces ahead.
The doors to the vast inner chamber slide open. Standing crystal candelabras bordering the long, frost-white carpet are the only decor in the otherwise empty space.
We walk forward, with Mingi and Iseul trailing. Violet’s brow furrows as she takes in the only one awaiting our arrival. There is not a single noble, court member, or government official present to witness the binding. Save for the Minister of Ceremonies waiting at the end of the aisle.
Because this is the seventh time.
“Hold out your hands,” Minister Molan says when we stop before her. Her robes are an iridescent white that resembles snow when she shifts, appearing to be transparent without actually being so.
I gently take Violet’s wrist when she doesn’t respond and guide it into position. Her lashes flutter as she only now notices how she gripped my arm as if it was the only thing keeping her tethered.
Minister Molan’s face is a placid mask that fails to hide her true feelings. Disapproval radiates from her stiff movements as she wraps a thin ribbon of frost around our wrists, and again in her voice as she recites the binding incantation in the Old Language.
The spell reverberates within the vast chamber, creating a song that grows upon itself.
As the final note dies away, the ribbon shines. Violet flinches away from the blinding light. As the glow fades, the ribbon vanishes, forming a connection between us.
“It is done,” the officiant says flatly. She turns to me, adding, “Now, seal the binding.”
I guide Violet toward me by the shoulders, then lift the veil, letting it slip and flutter to the floor. Cupping her jaw, her heartbeat speeds up under my finger that rests atop the pulse point in her slender neck.
I lean in, she squeezes her eyes shut, holding her breath. I stop just shy of brushing my lips against hers, close enough to feel the heat of her skin. The slightest shifting of weight would close the distance.
She peers through her lashes and releases the air trapped in her lungs. Before she can accidentally move, I draw back.
Violet glances around as if waking from a dream. She frowns at the empty spot where Minister Molan had been moments ago.
I could have easily prepared her for how it would be, but I cannot afford to trust her. She could very well be responsible for that strange hovering presence.
Unlike the fae, humans are not held so tightly to their word. Where my kind will shrivel and eventually die, mortals feel a constant nagging ache—a bearable consequence to live with.
Her gaze trails up to an upper atrium overlooking the main room, and squints. I follow her line of sight, but there is no one there and nothing out of place.
“What now?” she asks in a whisper as her attention returns to me.
“To the marital chambers. It is our wedding night, after all,” I say, trying to keep my tone light. I am unsuccessful, and my voice comes out rough and low.
The thoughtless comment holds an unintended implication.
Embarrassment stains her cheeks. It is easy to tell where her thoughts have gone.
This is not the first time she has jumped to the conclusion that I expect unfettered access to her body.
It reminds me of the way she blushed when we sealed the bargain. At the time, I thought the idea of being my wife repulsed her… but this reaction makes it seem as though she forgot this was all a ruse.
“I—are we—to…” Her voice trembles as she stumbles for words.
Despite assurances, she remains wary of my intentions.
“I meant what I said,” I murmur, wanting to put her worries to rest before she faints at my feet. “I do not need a bargain to keep my word about that.”
“Oh…” The small sound is little more than a breath, quickly followed by a grimace.
She does not strike me as vain enough to consider herself irresistible. And since she believes I send the Winter Dragon to attack human cities to subdue the people, attraction would be the last thing causing these momentary lapses.
Regardless, perhaps I can use this little detail to keep her on her toes.
If offered the chance to be privy to everything going through her head in a day, I would be tempted to take it.
It would certainly be interesting, to say the least.