Chapter 31
It took a great deal of getting used to—the overwhelming grandeur of Castle Vega, even after being tutored at the hunting lodge for several more days taught Thorn much of what she needed to know.
The sheer number of people crowding and congratulating her, everyone calling her Rose, made Thorn’s head swim.
Thorn. Rose. Lily. Lilythorn. All the names danced in and out of her ears until she couldn’t remember who she was.
But Sebastien never strayed from her side, gallantly protecting and shielding her, quietly explaining anything that confused her, his love never more apparent than demonstrated by his constant thoughtfulness.
She couldn’t imagine how Clotaire had thought she would pull off this deception on her own.
Sebastien’s attentive affection was the best part of being at Castle Vega, but she loved what he’d called the glitter—the lovely gowns, the feasts, the parties.
She’d even had a joyful reunion with Esmerelda the chicken, who Sebastien insisted remembered her, but she wasn’t sure if he was only being kind.
And His Majesty, who Sebastien had warned her might be intimidating and standoffish, treated her like a long-lost daughter.
He suggested combining the contract-signing with the wedding, the jovial king so unlike Sebastien’s wry description of his father that Thorn commented about it to him at one point.
“He’s happy,” Sebastien replied in a dry tone. “That’s part of why everyone at court adores you. Not that they wouldn’t anyway,” he added hastily, “but a gleeful King Soren means a court not walking on eggshells for a few days.”
“He’s right,” Princess Ali put in.
“Such a relief for everyone,” Princess Dianna agreed.
Sebastien’s two sisters had been spending a great deal of time in Thorn’s apartments, keeping her company and offering advice on being a woman navigating Soren’s court.
They had not been let in on the secret, however.
Only Thorn’s mother, father, sister, and she were supposed to know the truth.
Sebastien did, but only Rose and Shoshan knew that.
Everyone else must continue to believe she was Rose.
Keeping track of it all made Thorn’s head ache, too.
At least she’d mastered the skill of warding her own dreams. It hadn’t even been all that difficult, especially compared to learning to walk the Dream.
The rooms were dazzlingly beautiful, seven of them all together.
There were two sleeping chambers, a bathing chamber, a private sitting room, a formal receiving room, a dining room, and a glassed-in atrium with plants that people called the morning room.
The private and formal sitting rooms had glass doors also, that led into the gardens outside.
Everyone had emphasized to Thorn what the king’s generosity implied.
His Majesty was delighted to have acquired her as his court oneiromancer and as a daughter-in-law.
By extension, King Soren was happy with Sebastien, who would live with her in the glamorous apartments on visits to Castle Vega and then after he graduated.
“Who knew our father was even capable of being so happy?” Sebastien inquired blandly from where he sprawled in a chair near his sisters, holding a pastry in one hand and stroking Bunny’s ears with the other. Nonna hovered hopefully on the pastry side.
“He was happy with Este,” Dianna said wistfully.
“Sebastien’s mother,” Ali explained to Thorn.
“You haven’t talked about her very much,” Thorn said to Sebastien, going to thread her fingers through his hair. She loved having that privilege, able to touch him whenever she wanted.
He grinned at her, gave the rest of the pastry to Bunny, and pulled her onto his lap, snuggling her close. “There’s not much to say. Everyone else knows far more about her than I do.”
“That’s very sad, though,” Thorn said. Shoshan had been compelled to return to her duties as a sorceress and Thorn already missed her.
She also missed Rose, oddly enough, and wondered what she was doing.
Rose had apparently said mysterious things about “research” and no one had heard from her since she left the hunting lodge, which worried Thorn that there were things she still didn’t know.
Everyone at Castle Vega had been so kind, though, that she felt a little guilty being anything less than perfectly happy.
“It’s a little sad, Lilythorn,” Sebastien agreed, nuzzling her neck and making her giggle, and also that sensual simmer to light up her blood like champagne. She’d had that for the first time, too, and loved it. Sparkling wine seemed like something the fairies might make.
“You never have explained why you call her that,” Ali noted with raised brows.
“Yes, I did,” Sebastien replied. “It’s a nickname.”
“Is it a combination of an alternate name for ‘rose’ plus the sharp aspects of the thorns?” Dianna guessed.
“Something like that.” Sebastien kissed Thorn’s forehead. “My lovely flower with her fierce powers.”
“I did expect you to be rather more fierce in personality, given your reputation,” Ali said to Thorn.
“This is a time for romance,” Dianna argued. “Time enough for ferocity later,” she added, sounding not very happy about it.
“True,” Ali agreed. “I don’t like the rumbles of war. With Oneira abandoning the Southern Lands and now Stearanos gone from the northern ones, the lions are growing restless. And hungry.”
Funny how Rose had said almost that exact same thing.
“Tonight is our wedding night,” Sebastien declared, “which is cause for great happiness. No talk of war and dreary politics.”
“That’s right,” Thorn said, and kissed him lingeringly.
“They’re so adorable,” Dianna commented with a sigh.
“It’s good to see Sebastien happy,” Ali agreed, sipping her tea. “Though we need to put an end to the billing and cooing. It’s time to prepare for the ceremony.”
“Ceremonies,” Dianna corrected.
“That’s my cue to leave,” Sebastien declared, standing and lifting Thorn in his arms. He gave her one more dreamy kiss, then set her carefully on her feet. “I’ll see you soon,” he murmured to Thorn, rubbing his knuckles over her cheek. “And then you’ll be my wife.”
“I can’t wait,” she told him, leaning into the caress.
“You’ll wait longer if you keep dallying,” Ali advised.
“And, Rose, you’ll want to look perfect,” Dianna said, “so we really should start on your hair.”
“I have maids for that,” Thorn protested with a laugh for the idea of real princesses doing her hair.
Ali and Dianna exchanged looks. “It’s tradition,” Ali said. “We’re sisters now.”
“And we’ll only supervise,” Dianna explained.
“Come on, Bunny, Nonna,” Sebastien said, and gave Thorn one more smacking kiss before releasing his arm around her waist. “It’s clear we aren’t wanted.
” He laughed at whatever the hound and Bunny replied and strode out the doors to the garden, the huge scáthcú and smaller, squatter hound flanking him.
“You really do make him happy,” Dianna told Thorn.
“Yes.” Ali smiled at her. “Who knew when we sent him away to learn to be a sorcerer that he’d find his true love?”
Thorn smiled, not saying anything to that. There was too much she couldn’t speak aloud. Instead she squeezed her happiness close to her heart.
The wedding was a grand affair. Held in the throne room just after sunset, the place lit entirely by thousands of white candles, Thorn had never seen anything so beautiful, so romantic.
She wore a white gown, covered in crystalline gem roses that Clotaire brought, showering her with matching jewelry.
He’d been frustrated by his lack of access to Thorn, Sebastien running subtle interference that he declared to be one of the best perks of being a royal: you could avoid talking to people who annoyed you, so long as they had less power.
But now Clotaire practically glowed with triumph cloaked as paternal pride and joy at having her on his arm, the new jewelry radiating his self-involved victory.
Walking down the aisle with him through the vast sea of courtiers, Thorn could almost hear Rose’s sardonic voice in her head, commenting on Clotaire’s behavior.
It made her wonder about Rose’s planned revenge, what shape that would take and whether Thorn would ever know.
And then there was Sebastien waiting for her, also in white, his golden hair and green eyes in vivid contrast, another crystalline Dream jeweled rose on his lapel.
He tapped it as she drew near, his handsome face and pretty eyes even more compelling because they were filled with love, all for her.
She may have borrowed Rose’s name, career, and life, but Sebastien was entirely and honestly hers, forever and always.
They spoke their vows to each other, their voices resonant with meaning and the honesty of two like hearts coming together.
It felt odd, signing the marriage document with Rose’s name.
And when the Arbiter of Sorcery, a grim woman dressed all in black, transferred Rose’s contract with HASP from Madame Hendricks—whom Thorn had to pretend to know, but fortunately Sebastien had pointed her out—to the king, the sorceress gave her a strange look, deeply suspicious, and Thorn tensed, wondering if it should look like she felt something.
From what Sebastien had said, the blood geas simply existed and he’d never even felt it.
Apparently he would if he tried to go against the will of the contract holder, but why would he do that?
He’d obviously never experienced this kind of contract transfer.
Fortunately, her sudden worry and tension seemed to appease the Arbiter, who finished off the contract, and took it away again.
“Behold!” King Soren declared in a ringing voice. “Her Highness Princess Rose, and Her Eminence, my court oneiromancer. With this momentous occasion begins a new era of peace and prosperity for our realm. None shall challenge my kingdom or be able to attack us!”
“Just watch how we’ll attack them, though,” Ali muttered to Dianna, which Thorn only heard because the princess stood right behind her, the two sisters having offered to stand up for her.
Thorn wished it could have been Rose, which of course it couldn’t be, but her twin’s absence represented a layer of lies they could never be free of, almost as if the thorny rose barrier had chased Thorn from the cottage and still wove an invisible fence around her of things she couldn’t speak aloud.
“Are you all right?” Sebastien asked when he took her in his arms for their first dance together as husband and wife, prince and princess. His beautiful face crinkled with sincere concern.
“Yes. I’m so happy.”
“But?”
“I never thought I’d miss my cottage, but it’s so … loud here.”
He laughed. “It is loud. But you are like my island of quiet peace. And I can be yours.”
“I love you,” she said, and he smiled, his genuine, from-the-soul smile.
“I love you most,” he answered.
That was enough for her. That was enough for both of them to live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales.
The morning after her wedding, Thorn awoke from her dreams—well-contained ones—of utter bliss.
Sebastien lay curled around her, cupping her body protectively, both of them naked.
The sheer joy of being skin to skin with him transcended even the mind-altering erotic pleasure he’d treated her to, not just once, but several times during the night.
Feeling the sated lassitude of her body, she stretched, a delicious ache humming through her.
And she would have this for the rest of her life.
She’d found her true self and true love with Sebastien. She’d endured Jada’s worst and freed herself from the cottage. And today she’d start her life as Sebastien’s wife and a full-fledged court oneiromancer.
“Mmm. Good morning, beautiful Lilythorn,” Sebastien murmured, pulling her against him and kissing her throat.
She purred at the lovely susurrus of kisses sending sensual pleasure through her.
Framing his beloved face in her hands, she kissed him on the lips, even liking the faint mustiness of sleep on his breath.
It was real. All of this, their bodies together, all a solid reality that belonged to her alone.
Parting her thighs, he stroked her sex, warm and wet for him. She lifted her hips, seeking more, dazzled by how he knew exactly how to touch her. “Soft as petals,” he murmured.
Giggling, charmed and delighted by her new husband—hers—Thorn boldly wrapped her hand around his rigid cock, savoring his gasp of response. “And this? Like a sword?”
“Some say that,” he answered, nibbling her earlobe and making her dizzy, even as he continued to stroke her, finding that pearl of pleasure and teasing it with sweet intensity so that she moved restlessly, losing her focus. “Maybe it’s a magic wand,” he suggested.
“There’s no such thing,” she protested on a laughing gasp.
He parted her thighs further, pressing his cock against her slick and wanting sheath. She arched as he slid into her, stretching her quivering tissues with exquisite fullness.
“See?” Sebastien said in a throaty voice. “Magic.”
“Yes,” she agreed, and gave herself over to the enchantment that he wove for them.