Chapter Seventy-One
Before the Sun
Her grandmother’s fire steadied her. The sun ahead would blind her.
Amerei sat stiff as Juliet pressed the final pin of her silver crown into place. Her hair had been woven into a single intricate braid, gems glittering through the strands, the black gown gleaming like raven’s wings.
Gabriel stood by the door, speech in hand, his tone warmer than his stance. “It’s better than most given in that hall. You’ll do well, Princess.”
She inclined her head. “Thank you, Gabriel.”
He slipped out as silent as he’d come, the quiet he left behind oddly weighted.
Juliet bent down, catching Amerei’s reflection in the copper mirror.
“You slept?”
Amerei exhaled a smile.
“Eventually.”
“You’re radiant.”
Juliet’s eyes glimmered.
“I’ll take that as confirmation the groom performed admirably.”
Heat flared across Amerei’s face.
“He… worships me, Líri.”
Juliet’s brow arched, smirk tugging at her lips.
“Worships you, does he? Darling—no wonder you’re glowing like the hearth fire midwinter.”
The warmth faded into thought. Amerei’s voice dropped.
“Will Xavien see it?”
“Men always do.”
Juliet lifted her chin, her touch tender but firm.
“It’s no crime to be well loved. You’re not pretending—you’re negotiating. And you are coming home with Viktor.”
She pressed a tiny glass vial into Amerei’s hand. The liquid shimmered silver.
“Willow bark for pain. Silverleaf for swelling. You’ll need each other tonight. And once between moonrises is enough to bruise a maiden. Twice will—”
“Thrice,” Amerei said, steady, unflinching.
Juliet blinked, then smiled, pride and scandal mingling in her gaze.
“Bless the stars for love like that.”
Amerei drank every drop. Bitter, cool—like morning wind over the sea. And she thought of Viktor, the way he’d looked at her the night before. Dask, she could drown in those blue eyes.
The chamber door creaked.
“Carriage is ready,” Evander called.
Juliet smoothed Amerei’s skirts one last time. “Go, darling.”
Amerei stepped into the hall, Evander waiting with his arm extended. Together they descended the stair, through the stables, into the light.
The courtyard opened before her—Storne and Viktor astride their horses, soldiers gathered like a fortress at their backs. Viktor’s wedding braids still bound his dark hair, his mantle falling like a banner. His gaze found hers, held her fast.
She whispered, “I love you.”
He said it back without sound.
Her hands trembled as Evander helped her into the carriage.
The door closed.
Amerei drew one last breath, staring at Castle Fyreglade.
“I’m coming home with Viktor,” she whispered.
Before the sun could reach her.