Chapter Four
Jet
I’d agreed to the wedding—without any lip—under the condition that some giant spectacle wasn’t made of it. I understood he had to have certain members of his council and the heads of important families there, but I didn’t want decorations, music, long, drawn-out vows, or anything of the sort.
He’d insisted on a meal afterward.
I warned that I might not be present for that.
Neither of us was happy, but we were both getting a little bit of what we wanted, so we went ahead with it.
I strode down the aisle, the crown on my head that the metalsmith had used to craft the tiara for my future wife, future bride, future princess, perhaps one day, my queen.
She was just a mass of white.
The gown was the traditional white, but an older fashion that gave no hint of the shape beneath. And the veil hid her even further.
Not that it mattered what she looked like.
I wasn’t planning on having any sort of relationship with her.
That apathy, though, rushed out of my body like a wave when I lifted the veil.
Not only because she was absolutely stunning with her long, dark hair, flawless skin, blue eyes, tipped nose, and pouty lips.
No.
Because the woman at the altar in a gown and veil? That was not Gemma Grimwood.
I’d only met the woman twice in my life.
Both times, she’d been the most unpleasant woman in the room.
But while this woman could pass for Gemma from afar with the same height, dark hair, and weight.
But unless Gemma had gone through extensive spellwork to change her appearance, there was no way it was the same woman.
It was the moment I should have spoken up, should have called out Grimwood, called off the wedding.
At the end of the day, though, I didn’t care who I married. And I didn’t need to watch my father have another man dragged off to be tortured for all eternity. And possibly even his daughter. I didn’t need that shit on my conscience when it didn’t matter who stood next to me at political events.
So I stuck the tiara on her head, made sure the whole thing was official, then grabbed my new wife and pulled her inside where Vishen was waiting.
“Who the hell is that?”
“My new wife.”
“I saw that. But that’s not Gemma Grimwood.”
“I’m aware.”
“Why did you go through with it?”
“Does it really matter who she is?” I asked as my wife stood there mutely, gaze sliding between us as we spoke.
“I guess not. And I guess anyone is better than that toxic witch Grimwood spawned. What’s your name?” he asked, looking at the woman.
Her mouth opened, closed, her brows knitted, and she shook her head.
“Did he cut out her tongue?” Vishen asked.
“What?” I hissed, never having considered that.
“Trust me, I’ve heard of Grimwood doing far worse.”
“Did he cut out your tongue?” I asked, looking back at the woman.
She shook her head, parted her lips, then pointed inside, and did a one-handed shrug.
“Did he give you something?” Vishen asked.
To that, he got a nod.
“Did it taste like flowers?” he pressed.
He got a more eager nod at that.
Vishen looked back at me. “Bellhush.”
“A flower?”
“It’s heavily distilled from the flowers, but yes.”
“How do you know that?”
“They’re used by the military.”
He didn’t need to elaborate. There was only one reason the military would want that kind of tonic: to silence people being tortured.
I exhaled hard, wondering how many other horrific things my father was guilty of.
“How long does it last?”
“It depends on the dose,” Vishen told me. “I’m assuming he gave her enough to keep her silent until tomorrow.” At my blank look, he added, “Until the marriage is consummated.”
A silent consummation.
I couldn’t think of anything worse.
Aside from, of course, forcing a random woman he, I assumed, kidnapped into that consummation.
I mentally added Grimwood to my list of those who would suffer for their crimes when I was ruling.
“How did he expect to get this past my father long-term?”
“Fuck knows. I don’t think we want to know. But we might want to make sure she’s kept away from the servants.”
“You think he has someone inside the palace willing to, what, keep drugging her?”
“It would be easy for him to say his daughter is suffering from some sort of affliction to excuse it.”
I looked over at the woman. “You want to have the drugs wear off?” I asked. She nodded, eyes going wide. “Then don’t eat or drink anything that I or Vishen haven’t given you.” I waved to my guard. Turning back to him, I asked, “Can you do an audit of the servants who have access to my quarters?”
The list was small, compared to how many worked at the castle. I’d whittled them down to three—two maids for cleaning and the laundress.
“I will. But I don’t think I need to tell you how devious people can be if coin is on the line. And if Grimwood is involved, trust me, coin is on the line.”
That was true.
Of all my father’s allies, Grimwood had to be in the top five when it came to wealth. The other three had already tried to align with us in marriage. The fourth had no daughters.
He could easily offer life-changing coin to someone inside the palace to do his dirty work. Enough coin that it would be worth risking my father’s discovery to go through with it.
“Do the best you can to get to the bottom of it.”
“I will. Might I suggest you restrict access to your rooms to times when you and your wife are out? There’s an easy enough explanation for a newlywed couple to desire privacy.”
“Right. That makes sense.”
“Don’t go now.”
“Why not?”
“Put on the show, Jet. Go out there. Be seen. Eat. Be a prince now, or no one will accept you as a king in the future. I will see to setting up the new rules about your quarters.”
I looked over at my new bride. “I’m sure you haven’t been fed.”
She shook her head.
“I know you aren’t here willingly. But I will try to make this tolerable for you.”
Her gaze was wary. I couldn’t blame her.
“Let’s play our parts right now.”
I offered my arm.
She looked at me for a long moment.
“This is not a friendly place,” I told her. “I have found that choosing strategic allies is the only way to survive.”
She watched me for another moment before slipping her arm in mine.
“Good choice,” I said, leading her through the castle.
Everything was bustling, the servants rushing around from one task to the next, perfectly aware that a speck of dust or a meal delayed by five minutes would mean my father’s wrath on a day like this, with important guests in attendance.
“For the time being, I think your safest place will be my quarters, but I will give you a tour once the guests leave and my father… retires.”
He didn’t sleep much anymore.
But his personal advisor ensured that he did his nightly ranting, raving, and pacing in his personal quarters so no one else saw how much he was slipping.
We exited the back door to a round of applause from the guests gathered in groups, speaking or sitting at tables waiting for the meal.
Beside me, my bride stiffened and tightened her grip on my arm. I wasn’t sure if it was the noise or the crowd that bothered her, but she was clearly skittish. Which made sense, I suppose, if she was a former servant to Grimwood. I couldn’t imagine working at his home was a pleasant experience.
Her gaze shot to my profile, drawing my focus.
Those blue eyes of hers were huge, her skin even paler than when I lifted the veil. I’d lived with my father and his terror tactics to know fear when I saw it.
What I didn’t expect was the strange stirring in my chest and gut—something it took a long time to recognize because I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt it before. It was protectiveness. Some part of me wanted to turn to the crowd and growl at them to shut the fuck up and go home.
But I couldn’t do that.
So I did all I could do—I led her over to the table which was unfortunately set up in front of everyone, leaving us on display. But as we sat, the majority of people went back to their conversations.
“Do you work for Grimwood?” I asked.
She shook her head.
Huh.
“Have you known him long?” Another head shake. “Longer than a few days?” Yet another no. “Longer than today?” A shake again. “He brought you in just for this?” She nodded. “He kidnapped you?”
She didn’t move her head at all to that, just shot me a look that was full of misery.
Unable to carry on an actual conversation with her, we sat mostly in silence as we watched the staff bring the platters out to a buffet.
It was Vishen who brought plates up to us.
“What is it?” I asked, when she stiffened and pushed her plate away.
Her eyes were wide and sad as she pointed to the fish on the plate.
“No fish?” Vishen asked, pulling the plate away. He got a head shake. “What about meat? Do you eat meat?” Another shake. “Okay. I will get you a fresh plate,” Vishen said, before shooting me a look.
The upper echelon of Dark fae were the only ones who consumed meat regularly. Could she possibly be a Light fae? Had Grimwood kidnapped a fucking Seelie? As if the Light Court needed more reason to start with us.
My wife’s gaze went to my plate, eyes looking a little watery as she eyed the fish.
I exhaled hard and pushed my plate toward Vishen too. “Another plate for you too?”
“Yeah.”
He shot me a smirk, pouring the contents of my plate onto the other, likely to save for himself once he was done waiting on us. After a lifetime of military rations—which kept the men just short of starving at times—he never missed an opportunity to eat.
He came back a few moments later with plates packed with fruit, greens, mushrooms, and flowers.
Spotting a small glob of honey, my bride let out a sound of pleasure deep in her chest that had a part of me getting ideas it had no business thinking.
She dug into her food with flourish, dipping everything from the fruit to the mushrooms in the honey. I wasn’t sure the last time I enjoyed anything quite the way she enjoyed that honey. I scooped mine onto her plate.
When Vishen returned with glasses of faerie wine and water, she reached for the water with two hands, chugging like she was dying of thirst.
“Pitcher?” Vishen asked when, finished, she reached to chug mine as well.
All through dinner, all she did was drink.
Vishen returned no fewer than four times with pitchers of water, giving me increasingly confused looks.
“Any luck on the voice thing?” I asked, wondering if she was trying to flush the effects out of her system.
She opened her mouth, struggling for a moment, but not getting a single sound out.
“It will wear off eventually,” I assured her as the servants started to bring out dessert—fruits covered in candied nectar.
There was that damn sound again. Something that if she had her voice, I knew would be a moan.
I passed her my pears to go with her apples and watched her dig in with gusto. But she never stopped reaching for that water glass.
Weird.
Something I definitely wanted to ask about once she could speak. And something I had to keep in mind if I was going to be responsible for bringing her drinks.
After dessert, the guests were shuffled back to their carriages when my father’s advisor noticed my father’s wild-eyed look and pacing.
“We’ll retire to my quarters now,” I told my wife as she looked over at me.
There was no mistaking the panic that widened her eyes and made her breath go fast and shallow.
“I have no interest in an unwilling woman,” I told her as I stood. “You’re not safe from much here, but you’re safe from that.”
She didn’t look very relieved at that.
“Perhaps,” Vishen said, pulling me aside and speaking in a low voice, “telling her she’s not safe is not very reassuring.”
“I’m not sugar-coating the truth. Especially with Grimwood in play, she’s not safe. Better she be aware. I can’t be around every moment. And I can’t leave you with her either.”
“I can attempt to find a guard I trust for her.”
I gave him a nod.
“Might be necessary.” My bride finally stood and turned to face us. “Ready to get out of that hideous dress and get some rest?”
She gave me a nod, but there was something so heavy and sad in her eyes that I felt an ache in my chest.
What the hell was her story?
And how long would I have to wait to hear it?