52. Mare
Mare
The time had come to attend Brighid’s wedding—to stand before a cluster of the world’s most powerful nobles, and petition them to let me keep Cierthine.
The final say would fall upon Reese and King Ailithir, in theory. I had no idea how the Solheart lords and queen would react.
Beneath my own troubles, a shivering worm of disgust underlined my thoughts. Lord Sorley was the groom. The bastard who’d tormented Brighid since she was barely twelve.
A warm breeze tousled my hair, and I looked up. Buds of new leaves dotted the tree branches hanging above the rooftops. Silver grass peeked through the muddy streets. Spring had arrived.
Silence had accompanied us on our return journey from Tirnanog. We cast each other knowing glances, but did not speak a word.
The fae had tampered with Reese’s mind—he believed I had taken over his watch, and we’d all woken on the morrow.
My heart pulsed with every glance he shot me. Vaf had promised we would turn on each other, that the clashing of blades—and one of our deaths—was inevitable.
When would it come to pass?
Liam stood a few paces away, arguing with the stable master. His hood was pulled over his face, concealing his foul-blooded features. The stable master had a weathered face and a passion for haggling—his wrinkles deepened with a broad smile.
Brighid insisted we needed a carriage—riding into her wedding ragged and on horseback would give a poor first impression.
Reese ran a hand through his hair. “We really don’t need a discount.”
“Sh,” I hissed. “Don’t take Liam’s hobby away from him.”
He chuckled. “Bláth likes to haggle. Give him some backup.”
“Well,” Bláth said sweetly. “If you insist.” Folding her hands behind her back, she pranced to their side and joined the argument.
Turning away, I looked over the elk penned in the stables and caught Brighid’s eye. She glared at me, searchingly. She’d shot me this look more times than I could count, over the past few days.
In the heart of the night, I’d whispered to her Vaf’s riddle—and price.
She had carefully avoided entering a deal with the fae lord. But what could be worse than marrying your lifelong abuser?
Liam grinned, shook the stable master’s hand, and returned to my side triumphantly. “Told you I could get a cheaper one.”
“Yes, you’re very impressive, little brother.” I shook my head. Liam smiled, shifting to favor his left side.
Where a jagged scar tore down his chest.
He stepped closer and discreetly took my hand, gently squeezing. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever done. Surprised, I looked up at him, but he turned away.
Reese released a labored sigh and grabbed my bag before I could. “I’ll load the carriage.” He glanced back. “Your highness.”
“Please do.” Brighid tossed him her bag.
He caught it and rolled his eyes. Restless pricks ran through my limbs, and my heart thundered in my chest. Pacing the road, I started braiding my hair—if only to give my fingers something to do.
I tied off the braid as the stable master finished hooking up the elks, with our horses linked to the back of the wagon.
Jogging over, I reached for the wagon door, but Reese darted to intercept me. Pulling the wagon door open, he offered me his hand with a coy smile and bow.
“Really?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Of course, my lady.” His mouth twitched, hiding a laugh.
I accepted his hand and stepped up into the carriage. Brighid lifted her skirts and extended her hand, but Reese turned his back to her and climbed in after me.
“Little ginger rat,” Brighid murmured, climbing the steps herself.
A smile curled my lips, but I felt like someone had punched me in the gut. Doubling over, I steadied my breathing.
Everything was wrong. Where we were going—why we were going. And the secrets I kept buried.
Reese sat beside me, which was awful and made everything worse.
Liam and Bláth seated themselves opposite us; the door closed, and with the crack of a whip, we were off.
To Fort Rainier in northern Aenir, where the royal wedding would be held.
I stared out the window, admiring the rolling hills and sky-reaching mountains, trying to ignore the pleasant warmth of the man beside me.
“We need to talk,” Reese said, voice low and serious. “About this wedding, Brighid.”
“What do you mean?” Brighid flicked one leg over the other.
“Everything—everything—could go wrong, and we need to be prepared." He made a sound of disgust. “Just seeing Sorley’s face will make me want to kill him.”
“Please don’t,” Brighid said, tucking herself into the corner. “If the Lecovair execute you, they’ll most certainly kill poor Mare, too."
“Do you really expect me to just sit through the ceremony?”
“I would appreciate it.” Brighid’s eyes narrowed. “The last thing we need there is a slaughter.”
I looked over, remembering Quinn’s warning. Fire boiled and burned in Reese’s eyes—like the rage I’d seen when he’d butchered everyone in the glade.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “The Lecovair won’t take kindly to me asserting authority over them. You might be right, Brighid, but they won’t let it pass without a fight. They won’t like this. To say nothing of what happened with Diar.”
What had happened to Diar after we left Tsuyan? If she had survived . . . I doubted she had escaped without scars.
Bláth nodded. “It's going to be a shitshow.”
Groaning, Liam flopped onto his back, using Bláth’s lap as a pillow. He draped his handkerchief over his eyes. “I’m going to relax, before the world formally ends.”
“Hello?” Bláth glared at him. “Since when am I your furniture?”
“You didn’t stop me.”
Brighid hummed. “Furniture is a vast improvement over a pig rolling around in the mud. Congratulations on your promotion.”
“Yes, ha ha.” Bláth rolled her eyes. “Did anyone pack alcohol?”
“Mm.” I reached under my seat, sorting through my bag to find the pricey wine Liam had stolen for me. The cap came off with a satisfying pop. “I’ve been saving this for the right moment.”
“Heavens bless you." Bláth beamed. “Pass it here. And tell your brother to get off me.”
“Tell him yourself,” I said, passing the bottle to Brighid.
“Oh, good choice,” Brighid commended. “Bláth would have drunk straight from the bottle.” Reaching into her things, she pulled out a goblet.
“Why am I everyone’s training dummy today?” Bláth threw up her hands.
“Because, dear.” Brighid poured herself a glass. “You make it so very easy.”
Her voice was flush with confidence. But her fingers trembled on the glass.
Reese’s blade clashed against mine, sending reverberations down my dominant hand. He twisted his sword, jarring Cierthine loose from my grip.
The black blade struck the ground, but I rolled and snatched it back up. Lowering myself into a defensive position, I prepared for his next strike, but he lowered his blade and stepped back.
“I can hardly believe how much you’ve improved in so short a time.”
“Improved?” I panted, rising. “I still can’t beat you, and you still haven’t used any magic.”
“No one’s ever bested me.” Reese spun his blade. “Don’t take it to heart.”
A breeze rattled the branches of the surrounding trees. Fire glowed in the distance where the others had set up camp. I glanced over, wondering if they were talking about us. About Tirnanog.
The cold had burned my skin during our winter training bouts, but the growing spring heat seemed worse. Wiping my brow, I caught my breath.
Reese looked simply criminal. He wore only trousers and a loose white tunic, the threads of its collar untied, sleeves rolled up.
“Humor me,” I said, ignoring the inviting line of his collarbone. “Don’t take it easy on me this time.”
He furrowed his brow. “You’ll need to use magic if you’re to have a chance. And you’ve seemed reluctant.”
I swallowed and spoke a half-truth. “It took me a while to fully understand my catalyst. I think I’ve got it, now.”
Sometimes shadows appeared when I tried casting with lightning. I’d been terrified to use magic around Reese, lest he see them. Lest I lose control.
My catalyst was the root of my failure. Dances woven from Tirnanog myrmidon’s techniques, steps taken in my mother’s honor. Descriptions of my father’s fated duel with his future wife.
Just another mirage. I’d aspired to a woman who did not exist, pined for a kingdom I did not know.
My Stormborn magic was the lie. My shadows were the truth.
If I were right, I could keep them separate. I could weave lies in Reese’s presence and call upon the truth when I needed it.
Steadying my breath, I readied Cierthine. Reese rolled up his sleeves and flicked his golden sword. Phantom twins burst from its steel. They hovered around his shoulders as he leaned forward—and lunged.
Spinning Cierthine, I danced forward—and embraced my lies.
Wind erupted from the blade’s arc, cleaving out around me, cutting the phantoms down from the sky. Our blades met.
Reese grinned. Exhilarated. Proud. Wildly handsome.
Cinders rushed through the night as his rapier burned and twisted into an elegant spear. I staggered back as streaks of fire rushed past me, sending columns of smoke into the sky. Burning flakes dusted my eyes, and I choked, blinded.
Radiance shone overhead as a hail of golden swords and spears rained down on me.
They slammed into the ground beside me, behind me, boxing me in.
Reese grabbed one from the air as he rushed forward.
I managed to block one strike before he twisted Cierthine from my hands and leveled both his blades at my throat.
I’d come so far, but he could still kill me in his sleep. If we were truly fated to clash, the outcome was certain.
Reese dropped the phantom blade and swept his hand through the air. The flames died. He offered me a hand, and I took it.
I must have stood too quickly—the world blurred and my eyes stung from the lingering cinders. Stumbling forward, I reached out and pressed a hand to his chest, steadying myself. He wrapped an arm around my waist, catching me.
Coughing, I blinked the embers from my vision and looked up into beautiful, golden eyes.