Chapter 30
Yellow trumpets flared out to greet the changing season, the organized garden beds carefully cleaned in anticipation of the few visitors who would be staying in Altaigne throughout the wedding. These were trusted guests or people of lesser import. People like my parents.
They were taken for bathing shortly after their arrival, not given the chance to meet with me before they were thoroughly scrubbed of whatever common filth the castle’s servants seemed to fear like a plague.
My parents were more finicky than I ever was, but I knew their protests would fall on deaf ears. The thought almost amused me.
Their letters had been sporadic since my arrival, arriving in batches when they found themselves with the free time.
It was like they suddenly remembered my existence when I got those letters all at once, but I knew better than to fault them for it.
They had a lot of catching up to do in the world, and with one another.
I waited in the garden, watching the bees perform their handiwork. Quinn stretched from a distance, his legs tense from bending to admire the first of the blue and purple irises to bloom.
“Finally, some decent weather,” he groaned, turning toward me with a grin that didn’t match his eyes. “I feel like a bear that has just awoken from a nightmarishly long hibernation.”
I scratched my chin, signing, “You’re starting to resemble one.”
Quinn touched his beard. “It kept me warm! But I suppose I should shave.”
In truth, it wasn’t half-bad. I’d seen Father grow a beard once, but it was wild, bald in patches.
Quinn’s facial hair was neatly-trimmed and maintained at a relatively short length, covering his chin, jawline, and upper lip.
It grew with a natural scruff that complimented him, if giving him a more rugged edge. It was…dashing.
But I couldn’t think that. We’d done this dance since the night I’d given him the ring, overcorrecting with aggressive friendliness. The casual nature of our conversation felt like a lie.
“Aw, but you resemble a corsair,” I replied.
“Am I a pirate, or a bear?” Quinn asked, placing his hands on his hips. “I do not believe I can be both, but if you ever hear otherwise, do let me know. I would love to see that.”
His eyes shifted behind me. I knew then someone was approaching, and without so much as a glance, I could perfectly identify their presence. I turned around and was glad of that sixth sense, as my parents looked absolutely nothing like the people I had left behind.
Both of them had put on weight since they returned to society. They were dressed in clothes provided by the palace, their hair styled back and out of the way. Were it not for their smiles and that familiar gait, I might have remained seated.
“Alana!” my mother shouted, hugging me quickly before pulling back to regard the spring attire. “My, you’ve gotten pale! And what on earth are you wearing? Have you lost your sense of modesty?”
I started to sign in response, but my parents stared like I was fidgeting, so I put my hands down and cleared my throat to whisper.
“Altaignian fashions.” I smiled tightly at Mother, then turned to my father, who might not have cared if I’d run up naked for all the joy he felt. He lifted me into the air.
“My sweet girl!” he shouted, unaware of his volume. Quinn snickered from afar. “It’s so good to see you!”
As he set me down, I patted his arm. There were many secrets I’d kept from my parents—why burden them with what they could not help?—but I could tell they were worried anyway, if not by the frets expressed in their letters, then by the lines that had grown under their eyes.
“How have you fared?” I asked.
Mother tried to hide how easy life had been without the constant need to protect me. She asked, in turn, how I had handled myself since their departure, and whether the prince had taken advantage of me or been uncomely at all in the face of the curse.
I tried not to show my offense, and omitted my own share of details.
We had an unspoken, mutual understanding that so long as we were surviving, there was no need to overindulge in the truth.
Then I turned to Quinn, motioning for him to join us.
As he did, my father’s expression soured; here was the man who had threatened his daughter, and he had the audacity to smile and bow as though none of it had happened.
“Quinn, these are my parents,” I signed, their focus returning to my hands. I spelled out their names. “Logan and Petra Chastain.”
“A pleasure to formally meet you both,” Quinn replied. He spoke slowly so that Father could read his lips, but the man stared through him as if he were only a specter.
“What is that dance?” asked Mother.
“Sign language,” Quinn replied. “Many of us have learned it to communicate with Alana. It’s proven quite useful. I should see that Sahra Doonle offers an introductory course for you, since Master Logan cannot hear.”
My mother’s lips parted, her eyes shifting between his in disbelief. “You have truly done such a kindness for my daughter’s sake?”
But she is no one, from nowhere and of nothing, she meant.
Quinn smiled with all the charm he could possibly muster. “I would do many things for the princess.” Then, hesitantly, he added: “We all would.”
Another familiar face joined us in the courtyard as Winnie hurried out from the main entrance, barking a swift greeting to my parents before taking my side with a lowered head.
Today was the first time in weeks that she wasn’t dressed in black.
Her hand rested on my back, her voice a whisper as she guided me away.
“Sorry I’m late,” Winnie apologized.
“I hadn’t anticipated your return to your duties,” I said. “Not yet, I mean.”
“It is high time. I cannot leave you to the wolves.”
She paused to smile politely at my parents. We walked a little farther, keeping our voices low.
“The handmaidens have offered to educate your parents on courtroom etiquette over the next few days, so as to avoid any embarrassing mishaps. You will also require some educating on the ceremony itself, some matters of religion and social customs we have not yet covered.” She took a breath.
Her briskness had returned in full force, and I was glad to see it.
“A number of foreign dignitaries and noblemen have trickled in here and at Caermont. They’ll expect greetings.
Many of them will be trying their damnedest to incur favor.
Keep on your toes, and remember me when you’re the queen, eh? ”
She playfully elbowed my ribs.
“What becomes of you after the wedding?” I asked, rubbing the area she’d prodded.
“Well, I shall either remain your lady-in-waiting, or you may retire me to gossip with the other ladies.”
I smirked. “You’ll not skirt your duties so easily, I’m afraid.”
“Damnation.” Winnie grinned back.
We went to the edge of the daffodils. I turned. “Will people be bothered when I cannot speak with them?”
“Oh, they’re bothered enough that you’re a lowborn.
Don’t worry too much; just smile and curtsy.
You won’t have to say a word throughout the wedding, anyway.
Neither the king nor queen is to speak at all during the ceremony, and only after the kiss will you be allowed to exchange words. ” She cleared her throat. “Or grunts.”
I batted my eyes.
“Or moans.”
Winnie took my hands, curling her lips into a rare, devilish sort of grin. An imp had to have possessed her body in the night; this creature could not be sweet, stern Winnie.
“You’re going to have sex.”
I paled. “Y-yes.”
“You look as though you might faint.”
“I—” I hesitated. “I could use a private space, I think. Somewhere other than my room.”
“Oh, mercy. Quinn!” Winnie took my hand, returning me to my parents. “Quinn, escort Princess Alana to the temple, will you? I must deliver the remaining Chastains to the solar.”
“Is she well?” Mother asked.
“Oh, just pre-wedding jitters. Nothing some peace and quiet won’t help,” Winnie dismissed. She gestured for them to move along, taking them into the palace.
Alone again with Quinn, I exchanged a brief look with him before turning toward the temple. I hadn’t been there since Percy’s funeral.
We went inside, walking along the carpet past gold-plated pews, and stopped before the statue of the gods.
It was daytime, and there was no funeral in service, so the Lady of Day was turned to face us.
Her peaceful expression was entirely hollow, but admirable in design.
Despite the statues, the space felt devoid of mana, as if it were the one place the gods did not exist.
Quinn stared at the Lady for a long time. Then he kneeled, bowing his head. I watched, curious and silent, awaiting explanation.
“It’s all right to be nervous,” he said from below. “I’d be more worried if you were calm.”
I chewed my lip. With his eyes closed, I couldn’t reply, but I wasn’t sure how to sign my internal screams anyway. This wedding business was all so overwhelming, only days away, and the minutes slipped through my fingers like fine sand.
Quinn opened one eye, looking up at me through his lashes. “Would you like to pray with me?”
I knew how to make requests of the Lord of Night, but never had I taken the time to simply communicate with the gods. If I prayed here, in this empty sanctum, would my thoughts even reach them?
Nevertheless, I kneeled beside Quinn and closed my eyes. I folded my hands and focused on the warmth coming from Quinn’s side.
What did he pray for?
I peeked at him through the corners of my eyes. Light streamed through the temple’s stained-glass windows, crowning him in a halo of gold and azure. His lips moved in silent supplication, full and tempting.
I looked away and shut my eyes once more, reaching out to the darkness.