Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
The dress transformed her.
That was Chase’s first thought as he walked Cora down the long stone corridor toward his brother’s throne room.
It was just cloth—he knew that—and yet it seemed to shine like magic stitched into fabric.
Dusky white shot through with silver and pale gold, the fabric moving against the floor like water, her copper hair blazing.
She looked like a queen.
Hell, she was a queen. Or would be soon enough.
Adric’s queen.
She was going to belong to his brother instead of Chase because she’d made a deal to save him. It had worked. He was alive. But now she could never truly be his.
Adric had won again. Just as he had since the goddamn beginning of time.
She squeezed his hand. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be nervous.”
He forced his thoughts away from his brother. “Are you?”
She just cocked her head and stared him down.
“Right,” he said. Because of course she was. And of course she wasn’t. He’d seen the connection between her and his brother. Hell, he even understood it. But Cora was his, dammit.
Except that soon she wouldn’t be.
“It’s a royal engagement,” she said, as if reading his mind. “It’s politics. That’s all.”
He didn’t answer.
“That’s all,” she repeated.
But it wasn’t. Not really. That much he knew in the marrow of his bones.
No. That much he knew in his blood.
And damned if just the thought of it didn’t make something wild and dangerous rise within him.
She loved him. Chase knew that. But was it love she felt for his brother, too? Love, or simply desire? Cold and clean and disposable?
He didn’t know. He wished he didn’t care. But, dammit, he cared too much. Far too much.
“Chase.” His name was a whisper. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be comforting me.”
“I don’t like this,” he said in what probably qualified as the biggest understatement of his entire existence. “Betrothal leads to marriage. And your marriage to Adric is dangerous.”
She looked up at him. “I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I’m sorry.”
“This?”
“Walking with me to the throne room. Presenting me to Adric. I wanted—” Her voice broke. “I wanted you to know you were part of this. That I’m not letting you go.” Her mouth quirked in a lopsided smile. “I didn’t mean for it to hurt.”
“It doesn’t,” he lied. “Not if you still love me.”
She pulled him to a stop, just long enough to cup his cheek.
“I’ve told you a million times. You know I do.
” The words were firm, and he believed them.
What he didn’t know—the question that haunted him—was whether he was the only man she loved.
She said he was, and he wanted to be. God, how he wanted that.
But he feared that soon her answer would change, and she would truly belong to Adric, too, and not just because of a ceremony.
As they emerged from the corridor into the Great Hall, everyone turned to see the woman who would be queen.
Servants pressed themselves against the walls as they passed.
A scullery maid carrying an armful of linens dropped them and bowed.
Two guards in obsidian armor snapped to attention.
He recognized them as Kali’s men, and yet they were bowing to Cora.
The sight disturbed him. The castle held danger—most of it flowing from or around Kali. If her people were deferring to Cora…well, that might ruffle Kali’s feathers.
And if it didn’t ruffle those feathers…well, that was dangerous, too.
Cora’s grip went tight enough to bruise a mortal.
“Chase.” Her voice was barely a thread.
“I’m here. I love you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I love you, too. The irony is I did this for you.”
“I know,” he said. But he also knew that she’d wanted it, too. Not the pomp and circumstance, but the man. His brother.
She’d told him that, of course. But he’d seen beyond those words to the depth of her desire—a desire for the very man who had split the Guardian and betrayed Chase in the most violent of ways.
And now here he was, on his way to give Cora to that man.
He pulled her to a stop a few meters from the throne room, wanting nothing more than to tell her to flee with him. Instead, he did his duty. “Are you ready?”
She straightened her shoulders and nodded. “Are you?”
He hesitated. He was a long way from ready. But he could do the hard thing. After all, he’d been doing hard things for millennia.
“Ready,” he said, then led her to the vaulted entry, the doors already flung wide.
Beyond them, the throne room had been transformed.
Banners of silver and burgundy hung from the ceiling.
The massive fireplace blazed with silver flames.
Adric’s courtiers had assembled, and now dozens lined the walls, some in armor, some in robes, some appearing human, others not.
A few inclined their heads as Cora passed.
Others stared with the fixed attention of predators noticing prey.
At the far end, across the sea of flagstone, Adric waited on the raised dais.
The stained-glass moons arched behind him, casting a colorful glow across the room. He was dressed in black, his coat of shadows rippling around him. His eyes were fixed on the doorway.
On Cora.
The expression on his face was one Chase had never seen on his brother. Not in all the millennia they’d shared. Not in all the wars and betrayals and silences between them.
It was reverence.
Chase felt Cora shift beside him, as if somewhere deep inside her, something had risen up. Acceptance, he thought. Maybe even eagerness.
His gut clenched. He’d lost her.
Had he lost her?
He could still leave.
The thought hit hard. He could turn right now. Drop her hand, stride out the way they’d come, and damn the universe for what came next.
Except he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. Not because he couldn’t live without her—he’d survived worse than this—but because leaving her wouldn’t end what was between them. It would only mean she walked into Adric’s throne room alone.
Which meant that once again, Adric was wielding that blade. Different cut. Same hand.
He kept walking because she’d asked him to do this. Because this was the path they both had to travel.
Because in order to keep her—even a little—he had to first give her away.
When they reached the dais, Adric stepped down to meet them. His gaze moved from Cora to Chase and back, and Chase braced himself for the edge of triumph. The flicker of victory his brother had every right to wear.
He didn’t see it.
What he saw instead was something almost like gratitude.
Somehow, that made everything worse.
Chase lifted Cora’s hand from his arm.
The loss of her touch hit harder than he’d been prepared for, and he drew a steadying breath, then another, fighting the urge to take her hand and run. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. This was the deal she had struck. This was the price she’d paid for his life.
She was still his—she’d promised him that. But she was Adric’s, too.
So he did as expected and passed the woman he loved to his brother.