Chapter 60
Sixty
Leaving Valora behind, I exit the balcony before I make a stupid decision. My mind is so preoccupied that I stumble into something large. Rett practically purrs as his palm rubs the length of my back. “There are some people I want you to meet.”
I tilt my head, pushing a demure smile into place as I soften my eyes at him. The night goes on, and he introduces me to group after group.
Name after name.
Courtier after courtier.
They study me as if they’re hoarding currency to dole out to the gossipmongers. Temples throbbing, I try to reposition my circlet but sway precariously on my feet.
“Almost over.” Rett swoops down and kisses my forehead. “Would you like for me to escort you back to your chambers?”
“I think that would be for the best,” I agree. “It’s getting late.” The crowds have thinned, and Valora is nowhere to be seen.
The empress makes a motion to the harpy, who flies to the announcement balcony with a brass instrument. He blows his horn, bringing an end to the evening. Rett positions me by his mother. After a line of farewells and best wishes from the departing nobles, we are left alone with only the maids.
Erah removes her crown and scratches her scalp. “The marriage vows are at dawn. Don’t be late.” She passes the headpiece to an attendant as if she’s relieved to be rid of it.
I nod, struggling to stand upright. Overcome by dizziness, I cling to Rett’s arm. Erah departs with a cluck of her disapproving tongue while several attendants trail close behind.
“I’m sorry. The late nights here can be a tad much if you aren’t used to it,” he says as he lifts me off my feet, cradling me in his arms before I can protest. “Let me make it up to you.” It’s useless to fight it.
I try to relax as he carries me through the corridors, but I can’t stop thinking about the ship sailing across the harbor. My heart hammers with his every step. A gnawing in my stomach that won’t go away—
A guard jumps aside as Rett nudges the door open, but we aren’t in my guest chambers. He’s finally taken me to his own royal quarters—a place he never had time to show me.
A masculine energy is present in the lines of the sleek wooden bed decorated with rust-colored linens. Fire crackles in the hearth. The late-night air is cool, and something delicious from below wafts through the balcony doors.
He tosses me on the mattress, just like he threw me in the spring. “You look best when you’re lying in my bed,” he remarks, taking off his clothes.
I roll over and sit up, scooting away from his reach. But there’s something I can’t help but ask, “What is that smell?” The scent is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before—fragrant herbs, roasting meats, and baked desserts.
“You must be smelling our wedding feast for tomorrow. We’re directly over the kitchens.” He chuckles as if he’s remembering something. “Being sent to my chambers without dinner used to be torture as a small boy.” His brow furrows when I don’t respond. “Is there something else bothering you?”
Still on his bed, I rise to my knees to look at him better.
He takes my hands to steady me, and I answer, “Actually, yes. There is. It’s about what’s happening in Alexandria.”
He pulls my gloves off and absentmindedly twists the betrothal ring on my finger. “This again?” he asks.
My stomach pinches. “I must coordinate with the generals—or even the lieutenants and captains—on the strategy. I don’t want to sign off on plans I don’t fully understand.
There may be a time when they come back to haunt me.
I’ve had enough of that. So I need you to tell me right now, right here, that I’m going to be allowed into those meetings. ”
“Whoa—whoa. Slow down.”
I yank my hand away. “No. Quit telling me to slow down—to be patient.”
“It’s been a long night. All of this can wait until tomorrow,” he says, yawning and stretching.
“But you just asked me if anything was wrong.”
“Well, I didn’t think you wanted to strategize at three in the morning,” he hedges. “I thought you had a problem we could quickly solve.”
“I need your assurances that these things will take place. That you’ll include me in the decision-making once we’re married.”
“I’m lucky my mother even allows me to listen in.”
“But you said—”
“I know you don’t like hearing it, but you must be more patient. When we’re married, she’ll come around… and when we provide her grandchildren and heirs, we won’t be denied anything ever again.”
The memory of Valora’s words settles under my skin, making a desolate home.
She’s right.
Everything she warned me of—so fucking right.
What good would trading myself in marriage be if I’m no longer his equal? I envision a future of long fights and power struggles, with Erah at the center.
Of betrayals and treating me as though I were a pawn to be manipulated.
Of sleeping draughts and lustful nectar to sway my choices.
The little hairs on my arms stand up.
“You’ll feel better after some sleep.” Rett turns down the bedcovers and starts readying the bed.
A burgundy curl falls over his eye as he yanks his undershirt off and stands next to me.
He smiles as he picks at the beaded material on my puff sleeve.
“How about you dress more comfortably? It’ll help you relax.
We’ll only get a few hours of sleep before our wedding, so we’d best not squander it. ”
My grimace deepens knowing that he’s right about one thing at least. My ballgown is itchy and tight—and my breasts desperately need out of this low-cut bodice.
He helps me to my feet and attempts to unbutton the back of the gown, but his fingers are too thick to grasp the buttons.
“Would you like me to call a lady’s maid? ” he asks.
I grow hot, pulling away. “Don’t worry. I’ll do it myself. I want to freshen up, anyway.”
By the time I leave the bathing chamber, Rett is asleep. I still can’t get my gown off, but I’m too upset to try anymore. At least I’ve removed the crinoline.
His rumbling snores fill the quiet night, a companion to the turmoil tearing me into pieces. I’m not sure how long I lie in bed next to him, listening to the tick of the clock on the mantel. Over and over, my mind burns until a half-sleep claims me.
Tossing and turning, I reach out. Shadows caress, dark and swirling over the curves of my body, through my fingers, my face, and each tendril of hair.
The whispers make low and deep promises.
I’m unable to get out of bed. Sheets twist around me as they tangle with the heavy fabric of my gown. The wet nose of a shadow hound nudges my hand hanging over the mattress’s edge.
My eyes fly open.
The shadows disappear.
Rett is still asleep next to me. His arm drapes lazily across my middle. I heave his heavy, muscled embrace off. It falls with a thud on the mattress, but he doesn’t move.
On the desk, under the moonlit window, lies Princess Cliodna’s diary, pages flipping in the wind.
When I approach, the pages stop moving and rest open to a specific passage—the last page with written words. Moonlight streams down, illuminating Cliodna’s loopy handwriting.
I pick up the leather-bound journal; a deep shiver runs from my spine into my racing heart. I carry it to the balcony to get a better view. Struggling, I read:
Close my eyes
I see blue waves
on a blanket of black
Like the sea
He never did
Listen to me
Where the ocean sleeps
The rough wood saves
Floating on the deck
Lover to be
A white ship
named after me
Cliodna,
Wait for me
My confusion spikes as I flip through the other pages. What could this jumbled mess possibly mean? And what does it have to do with me?
I look out, past the balcony and toward the sea.
A shadow caresses my cheek, becoming one with the wind that blows the ivory ship across the bay.
The sight transfixes me; my breathing stops.
Behind it, the darkened sky lightens, with the first traces of lavender trailing the storm-drenched clouds as they roll in.
Sunrise nears.
My fingers shake as I return to the chamber and silently grab Rett’s hooded cloak from the hook on the wall.
Courage runs through my burning veins, mixing with my latent powers. I can’t go through with this marriage. I won’t surrender to a different type of Keeper. There has to be another way—and I will find it.
There’s no time to lose.
Rett sighs and turns over beneath the blankets. My heart twists. Would he ever forgive me? I shake my head, clenching my jaw. A stronger woman wouldn’t seek his forgiveness, not after what he did to secure my hand in marriage. Perhaps I’m weak for pitying him. Perhaps I want to prove Erah wrong.
I laugh silently and bitterly.
She’s right.
I’m not loyal.
And I don’t want to be. Neither do I have time for these thoughts when I need to find freedom.
It’s better to escape with the Witch-King, with the full understanding that I’m his enemy, than to stay with those who pretend otherwise. Ashland is dangerous and wants to kill me—but I’ll be one step ahead.
My mind frantically forms a hasty plan. I’ll use Ashland as a stepping stone long enough to return to Alexandria. Once there, I can hire Lir’s mercenary services to help remove Balor Black by any means necessary. A promise of rewards from Alexandria’s treasury could go a long way.
I tuck Cliodna’s diary safely into my stays but turn at the sound of fast-approaching footsteps.
Wearing her dressing robe, Erah is on the other side of Rett’s door, striding toward me. “You weren’t in your chambers!” She grabs my face, her nails digging into my cheeks as she inspects me. “Why are you wearing a cloak? What are you trying to do?”
“Nothing,” I breathe, stumbling on the train of my ballgown, my heart racing.
Rett stirs in the bed.
“You’re lying. I always know when someone is being deceitful.”
“I’m—I’m not.”
I continue to step backward past the dying embers in the fireplace. Rett sits up, squinting in the dark.
Erah’s words drip with malice. “Oh, so you think you could flee and I wouldn’t notice?”
“What’s going on?” Rett asks, his voice hoarse, looking between his mother and my cloaked form.
Erah drives me further and further across the room like a cornered animal into a trap. She bites out, “Your bride doesn’t know what will happen if she rejects the bond!”
The sea breeze blows my curls across my face. Rett climbs out of bed and stands beside Erah as I edge onto the balcony. My bare toes are cold on the stone. The wind whips the cloak around my silver ballgown, sending the aroma of the feast wafting upward.
Rett complains, “Mother, will you please stop being so dramatic?” He turns to me, his hand outstretched. “Tabitha, come inside so we can start preparing for our wedding.”
My gaze connects with his, and time slows down. His jaw drops in disbelief.
The back of my hips brush against the sandstone balustrade.
“She doesn’t know,” Erah repeats sharply.
My ring finger burns. It’s as if the bonded lines are melting into my skin.
The ring glows, and the iridescent lines swirl and pulse with a crimson glow along my knuckle.
Twisting off the wedding band, I throw it at them.
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” Tears blur my vision.
Rett and his mother try to convince me of something, but their words are inaudible.
The darkness in the sea calls.
Each wave, a whisper.
Each whisper, a promise.
A song.
I climb onto the balustrade railing, holding my mass of skirts up so my feet are more nimble. My body sways as the wind bites my skin. Static causes my hair to fly in every direction as uncontrolled energy thrums under my fingertips.
Rett sprints forward. “Get down now!”
He grasps at my gown, but it is too late.
Through the air, I plummet backward a hundred or more feet. Rett’s betrayed face peers over the balcony—the last thing I see before the ocean claims my body. Like a thousand knives stabbing me, it swallows me with an unyielding force that has no reasoning.
Has no sympathy.
Has no mercy.