6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
A s always, I wake up to a pounding heart and skin slick with sweat. The details of the nightmare slip from my mind as soon as I open my eyes and prop myself up, but the dread lingers, securely settled deep in my bones.
I glance around in confusion, not recognizing the sight before me.
It’s only once Raven comes to land on the edge of my bed and I see her still in her shifted form that the memories of yesterday start coming back to me.
“I thought I’d go looking for Lorcan again,” she says.
I give her a nod, rushing to get up and attach a new message to her leg. In this one, I tell him to go straight to looking for the plant.
“How are you feeling?” I ask Raven once I’m done with the message. “Still can’t shift back?”
“No,” she replies simply. “Maybe when we get back to the right time.”
With that, she takes flight and disappears out the window.
The moment she does, I walk over to the door and press an ear to its surface to try to make out if anyone’s out there.
There’s only silence.
Perfect. I’ll sneak out and help looking for the plant. With some luck, we should be out of here well before the wedding.
The next thing I know, I’m stumbling back to avoid the opening door hitting my face.
Frowning, I watch Sylmarilla and Farryn enter with a female servant at their tail.
I give Farryn a smile, but when I turn to Sylmarilla, I fail to stop myself from saying, “Shouldn’t you be out there somewhere, princess, counting the silver?”
She throws daggers at me. “It’s Your Grace,” she reminds me in an ice-cold voice.
My smile only grows wider. “I know.” It’s with Lorcan on my mind that I ask, “Have there been any messages for me?”
She ignores my question, handing me a piece of fancy paper instead. I take it in my hand, skimming the content made barely legible by all the flourishes.
My eyebrows pull down. Lady Anyi Novak? And then below, all fake information. I look up at Sylmarilla. “What is this?”
“Your new title,” she says.
“My what?”
She looks at me as if I’m a half-wit. “Did you really think Mother would let people think her only son is marrying a commoner?” She motions at the paper. “ That is how you’re to introduce yourself. Also…” There’s a threat underlying the words she says next. “Under no circumstances will you be mentioning your father. Do we understand each other?”
Ah. My fiance apparently told them about my shifter ‘father’. And since I’m a fae, at this point in time, the fact makes me a filthy half-blood. Or at least it would , if they let it become known.
I give Sylmarilla a cold smile. “Of course, princess,” I say and I move for the door.
“What are you doing?” comes an impatient demand that makes me stop.
“I need to find that father I’m not supposed to mention.” It’s in a snarky voice that I explain, “You know, to let him know he wasn’t born where he thought he was.”
She walks over to the bed, matching my snark when she says, “I understand you’ve practically lived as one yourself, but I have no intention of letting you run around doing servants’ work.”
And with that, she tugs on the bellpull.
Mere seconds later, a male servant walks in, takes a bow and remains standing, waiting for instructions.
“Would you mind finding my father and asking him to come see me before the ceremony?” I ask.
“Of course, Lady Novak,” he says, turns on his heel and walks out of the room.
“Now,” Sylmarilla announces with a clap of her hands, “let us get started.”
I only manage to raise my eyebrows at her before I find myself being ushered to the vanity table.
*
While my hair is being brushed, curled and arranged into an increasingly complex hairstyle, the twins are on my bed, supervising the process. Their beautiful, watchful faces — the reflections of which I see in the mirror before me — are making me uncomfortable, so I keep glancing out the window every couple of seconds.
The day is still young. Plenty of time for the servant to find Lorcan and for Lorcan to get the plant.
It snaps me out of it, when I catch a movement from Sylmarilla. It’s subtle, but she’s giving Farryn some kind of hint.
My ears prick up even before I hear the younger sister awkwardly clear her throat. “So you’re really marrying our brother?”
My eyebrows shoot up. “I am,” I say simply, wondering what this is about.
There’s a moment of hesitation on her side. “He’s never even mentioned you,” she finally adds.
Damn it, and here I thought I’d only have to survive them observing me in silence.
I give her a wide smile. I have no choice but to play the part after all. “Oh it all happened so fast,” I start sweetly. I lock eyes with her and give her a mysterious little smile, dropping my voice as I say, “Sometimes, that’s just the way love works — swiftly, mercilessly, completely.”
I throw in a little wink, finding myself surprised at how delighted it makes me, to see her suppress a smile, a spark appearing in her eyes.
“And sometimes,” her sister cuts in, the coldness in her tone making both Farryn and me tense up, “love is ambition in disguise.”
For a second, I just observe her. Then I give her a cold smile. “And sometimes royal families aren’t what they seem. Your mother’s insistence on the marriage happening so soon, for example…” I enjoy seeing her tense up as well. “Let’s just say it’s making me wonder.”
Color rises to her perfectly sculpted cheeks. Her jaw clenching, she springs from the bed. “ That is on the hopeless cause you’re choosing to take as your husband.”
“Syl…”
We both ignore Farryn. “What do you mean?” I ask, my eyes narrowing at her.
She collects herself as quickly as I got her worked up. She tips her chin up and gives me a cold glare. “Stop asking questions about matters that are none of your concern,” she commands as she moves to walk out of the room.
I literally watch her stop to look around for something she can bitch about.
“And you ,” she snaps at the servant, “aren’t you done with that?”
The servant freezes and lets go of my hair. “Yes, Your Grace,” she whispers, almost instantly making herself scarce.
“I have to see about the dresses,” Sylmarilla coldly tells Farryn and storms out of the room, her sister moving to follow suit.
“Pst, Farryn,” I call out in a low voice.
I turn around to face her as she hesitantly comes to stand before me. Sylmarilla isn’t even aware exactly how right she was when she said none of this is my business, but curiosity seems to be getting the better of me. “What did she mean by ‘hopeless cause’?”
Farryn’s eyebrows shoot up, but only for the briefest moment. “It hardly matters now , does it?” she says with a shy smile.
I hesitate, wondering how much questioning I can do without risking suspicion. Then again, I did tell her we fell in love quickly. So I nudge her to answer, gesturing at the bed with a pleading look in my eyes.
It’s with bated breath that I watch the struggle on her face.
It makes my ears prick up, when I see her take a seat at the edge of my bed. She throws a glance at the still open door and drops her voice. “Brother was twenty five when they told him he needed to get married and sire an heir. He’s thirty three now. Syl always thought it was awfully ungrateful of him. She gets… passionate about things like that.”
I nod. “I see. And your brother, how come he chose not to marry any of those other ladies?”
It almost makes me let out a laugh, when I see Farryn blush. “I don’t think I’m supposed to speak of such things, even with… you.”
Sensing she isn’t all that determined, I stay quiet, waiting.
“Even if I could say,” she insists, albeit feebly, “I wouldn’t really know.”
Smiling, I quirk an eyebrow at her.
She lets out a giggle, leaning in a little with that spark in her eyes again. “I used to see him with entire processions of them. They’d bring me sweets, drag me somewhere private and ask me if I thought he liked them.” Then she turns serious. “Then it stopped, and it didn’t get better even after the family gave him the ultimatum.”
Ah.
“So they weren’t just pestering him,” I say. “They were willing to force him into this?”
Farryn softly shakes her head. “We all honestly thought he never wanted to get married, but we also knew he didn’t want to lose the title either. And it’s only a couple of months until his name day, when the deadline is.”
“But if that’s the case,” I insist, getting more intrigued by the second, “and he’d…” I pause, remembering I’m the fiance. “Marry me anyway… Why would your mother feel the need to rush things like this?”
She shrugs. “Brother is… you never can be sure what he’ll do, as you’re probably well aware.” Then there’s that spark in her eyes again. “But tell me, please . How did you two meet? Spare no details.”
Damn it. Serves me right for choosing to ask her questions like this.
It’s at that exact moment that her sister marches back into the room, making Farryn spring from the bed with a look of devastating guilt on her face.
I don’t have time to react to this.
Turning to the door, Sylmarilla uses a single gesture to usher in a whole procession of female servants, each carrying one lavish dress and two fancy boxes.
Raising my eyebrows, I just keep standing there. Why oh why are there so many of them?
“In the name of the Holy Word,” Sylmarilla snaps me out of it, gesturing at the servants lined up around the bed, “will you wake up and let the women do their work?”
*
They don’t even let me go to the bathroom alone. I’m forced to suffer through squeezing myself into eight different elaborate dresses before Sylmarilla decides the ninth one is the charm.
Suppressing a giggle, Farryn takes me by the hand and leads me to the mirror. Despite the fatigue, the sight manages to take me completely by surprise. I don’t think I’ve ever looked more beautiful. My shoulders are bare, the ivory of the dress bringing out the radiance in my olive skin. The sleeves are making my arms look more elegant, the silver-embroidered bodice is cinching in my waist and the rich fabric of the skirt is flowing all the way to my feet, pooling on the floor. There’s a silver tiara nestled in my elaborate updo, creating a contrast to my dark brown hair.
“She needs more jewelry,” I hear Sylmarilla tell Farryn just before she lets out a loud sigh and throws herself on my bed to rest.
Farryn hands me a silver necklace.
It’s at that moment that the servant comes back, taking a bow and saying, “I apologize, Lady Novak. We can’t seem to find your father.”
I have to fight the urge to run my hand down my face. I give him a nod instead, my mind starting to buzz as I watch him leave.
“I’m sure he’ll get back in time for the wedding,” Farryn leans to comfort me.
I give her an absent smile.
“I think it would look beautiful on you,” she says as she motions at the necklace.
Turning it in my hand, I pretend to have doubts over it so I can have some time to think.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I wasn’t supposed to find myself still waiting for Lorcan with only minutes until the wedding.
Could I cancel it?
“Where is your brother, Farryn?” I ask in a low voice. “I want to see him.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “It would mean terribly bad luck,” she leans to whisper. “Sylmarilla would never let you.”
Of course she wouldn’t. Bitterness floods my mouth as I put the necklace on, the giant pearl dropping into my cleavage.
“You look stunning, sister-in-law,” I hear Farryn say with awe in her voice.
“That’s not what she is,” her sister snaps from the bed.
“You will be soon enough,” Farryn leans to whisper in my ear.
Yeah, but how the hell am I supposed to ensure that doesn’t happen, and make it so that the breaking of the engagement doesn’t get me arrested, or worse, ruin my chances of getting back into the Dining Hall?
My mind reeling, I only give Farryn a tight-lipped smile.
Then it hits me. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I say — grasping at straws — just as I spot Sylmarilla get up.
She comes to shove a bouquet of white roses in my hands. “Push through it,” she orders flatly, takes me by the upper arm and starts leading me out of the room.
It’s fine, I tell myself. It’s not a real wedding. Besides, even if Lorcan doesn’t find me before it’s done, we’ll still leave before the day is done and put all this behind us.