Chapter 36
Zarek
OUR OWN ROYAL UNION
The air still holds a chill, but at least the rain has stopped.
Thick, gray clouds scuttle across the sky, scraping their bellies against the spires of the palace.
The deep blue and scarlet canopies spread over the main courtyard sag and drip onto the stones, and the few couples brave enough to start dancing are in the open air, splashing through puddles.
Lively music fills the air, mixing with the scent of fried meat and sweet breads.
We turn the last corner into the courtyard and face the royal dais. I know what I’m going to see; still, my back stiffens, and I grind my teeth.
Prince Syvan sprawls across the second-highest chair, grinning at the festivities like a wolf watching a herd of sheep. He’s wearing a crown today, a thick circlet of gold that gleams in the dull light. Fear creeps through my body like ice spreading across a lake.
His wife, Princess Basili, sits next to him.
The gauzy veil over her face almost obscures the swelling around her right eye, and a dull thud of rage joins the fear coiling in my gut.
Syvan has always been a sadistic piece of shit.
If he’d been paired with someone who could stand up to him, or someone who held sway over powerful allies, he could have been taken down a notch.
Instead, King Malrik paired him with the meek daughter of a merchant family who had more money than the gods but not a drop of royal blood. Her dowry funds Syvan’s army and makes her family royalty. And if she’s miserable, well, I don’t think anyone in the palace notices.
Lilias gasps softly, and I realize I’ve wrapped my hand around hers so tightly it probably hurts. I force myself to smile as I approach the dais. King Malrik hasn’t arrived yet. Prince Syvan ignores me.
Princess Acelina, the wife of Malrik’s eldest son, Girart, who I dearly hope has the good sense to avoid the palace when Syvan is here, comes to her feet and reaches for Lilias.
“My dear, you look absolutely stunning,” Acelina declares.
“Your dressmaker is a miracle worker,” Lilias replies.
“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Syvan drawls from his throne.
His eyes catch on my wife’s bodice as we climb the steps of the dais, and I feel the silent weight of all six blades I’ve hidden on my body. If he hurts Lilias, so help me gods, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back.
“Princess Lilias of Marion is my wife,” I say as we reach the top of the little wooden stage.
“Is that so?” Syvan replies. “She doesn’t look nearly cold-blooded enough to be with the snake.”
The two guards closest to Syvan chuckle.
I don’t recognize them; they’re probably part of his army.
I remember what Petrys said about most of Syvan’s army traveling to the west, then glance at the guards with renewed interest. Perhaps I could take them out on the town, gambling and drinking, and get the full story from them.
The music changes abruptly, and the guards suddenly stand at full attention. Lilias and I turn to see King Malrik sweeping into the courtyard, surrounded by armed guards and attendants doing everything but throwing rose petals on the ground at his feet. I grit my teeth as the crowd applauds.
Malrik sweeps up the dais, past us, and to his throne.
Then he turns to face the crowd. He begins his usual speech, full of awkward double entendres about planting seeds and vague appeals to the wholesome lives of those who work the soil, none of whom are in this crowd, of course.
The farming villages will have their own planting festivals, filled with laughter and honey cakes and dancing by the firelight.
I remember my mother, with ribbons in her hair, spinning as my father clapped—
“And we have our own royal union to celebrate this year,” Malrik continues, waving his hand at me.
The crowd gives a smattering of applause. I nod at the wealthy nobles and palace artisans, most of whom already look bored.
“The union of Vsenrog and Marion,” Malrik declares, “represented by our own fine Prince Zarek and Princess Lilias, the only daughter of the king of Marion, may the gods grant him peace.”
Lilias’s hand tightens around my arm. Asking for the gods to grant peace is usually done after someone has died, but hells, it’s not like anyone in this crowd is going to argue with Malrik.
“Come now,” Malrik says, watching me with a gleam in his eyes that I don’t particularly care for, “show us the merry union of our kingdoms!”
It takes me a heartbeat to understand what he’s asking. Then, as the crowd continues to clap politely, I lean toward Lilias and brush my lips against her cheek.
Malrik sputters like I’ve just told a bad joke.
“Zarek, please,” the king spits. “Is that any way to begin your Unity Tour?”
I inhale slowly. I have a very bad feeling about this. Malrik turns back to the crowd as Syvan watches me, his black eyes like two stones on the back of my neck.
“Yes,” Malrik begins, as if he’s answering a question no one asked, “this is a great day for Vsenrog! We are finally reunited with Marion, who has long been a part of this proud kingdom.”
Lilias’s breath catches. Her arm trembles against me. I wrap my hand over hers.
“To celebrate this historic occasion,” Malrik continues, “Prince Zarek, who took shelter in Vsenrog’s might as a young boy and has grown into a respected member of my court—”
He doesn’t call me son, I note. He’s not claiming parentage right now.
“And the lovely Princess Lilias, pride of her ailing father,” Malrik says, sweeping a hand at us without taking his eyes off the crowd, “will be touring the western borders to spread our beautiful message of unity between the kingdoms. What better way to celebrate an alliance? And a marriage?”
The applause is a bit more robust this time. I wonder how much gold this crowd has to gain if Malrik somehow manages to seize control of the new gold mine in Marion.
“Just think of this,” Malrik continues, smiling at the crowd, “as my honeymoon present.”
More applause. Laughter. I feel like I’m watching the scene unfold from somewhere far, far away. The fallen kingdom of Dungal, perhaps.
This explains the new clothes, and Lilias asking where we’re going. Malrik is sending us away on a ridiculous honeymoon tour.
He must want to get rid of me for some reason. But why does he want Lilias out of the palace as well? My mind spins, and for one frantic moment, I’m searching the crowd for Petrys, although I damn well know he’s too smart to show his face at the palace Planting Festival.
King Malrik turns his predatory eyes to me.
“Now, Prince Zarek,” he says. “The two of you represent the unity between our two kingdoms. You’d better kiss your wife like you mean it.”
There’s a hard glint in his pale eyes, and I’m suddenly certain the beautiful dress really was meant to torture me. My earlier words to Lilias come back to haunt me. He thinks he can make me dance.
I turn away from the king, bend toward my wife, and kiss her like I mean it.