Chapter 23
“Stand here.” Meya pointed to a spot behind a deep red curtain, the sound of loud chatter, laughter, and music drifting through.
The white gown they had put me in was as light as paper, but it weighed on me like a prison sentence.
The wispy, feathered sleeves sat off my shoulders, decorated in sparkling gems, curling down my arms to the floor, looking like wings in the moonlight.
The semiopaque bodice dress exposed the top of my breasts, cinching at the waist and flowing down to the ground, trailing after me with silky feathers and jewels.
A crescent moon headpiece was placed on my forehead, gemstones and chains dripping down from it, twining in my hair like the stars.
The scent of the white moonflowers decorating my flowing hair filled my nose with an extravagant reminder.
My time was up.
The entire day I had counted time by the trays of food brought in, the guards outside my door dropping them on the table with aversion and stomping back out, resentful their job was wasted in having to watch over me.
Hours stretched between, prolonging the torture with every footstep I heard coming down the hall, every bang of a door close by, waiting and wondering when it would be for me.
The anxiety and boredom had me wishing it would all just be decided.
My fate finally sealed. Munch was my only source of relief and letting him eat the bedding and curtains gave me sick joy.
My mind had wandered into the darkness as the hours went on, intrusive thoughts sneaking into my head like poisonous serpents.
Sinking their teeth into my bones. Memories of our moments together during our journey turning into depraved fantasies, venturing past reality into something far more wanton.
I was nauseated by my thoughts. Shame hurled me off the bed, pacing my feet around the room in circles.
The endless dark only added to the confined fretfulness itching at my body that I could not seem to shake.
Trying to distract myself, I watched an endless parade of horses and wagons moving in and out of the bailey.
But none of the faces were familiar. I even longed to see Bj?rn or even Brynn, anyone anchoring me in this unending night.
When the lock clicked over and a pageant of thralls marched in, their arms and hands full of gowns, jewels, and herbs ground into paints, I understood my moment of peace was over.
There was to be a ball in my honor.
The five handmaidens bustled around me, their energy like buzzing bees, while they painted my face in white runes, continuing them down my chest. They were ordered to cover his marks with moonstones and King Helvig’s symbols.
As I had so many times in preparing for events with my father, I let my mind drift, pushing the girl he trained to be the perfect White Raven to the forefront. Standing obediently, and strongly.
It is my duty. What I had been chosen for.
The music on the other side of the curtain mounted higher, snapping me back to the present. The king’s loud voice thundered.
“My people, I have spoken to you about our destiny to lead this realm into a better future!” Cheers followed this.
“Huginn and Muninn have chosen us to be the strength which heals our land of sickness and death! For me to end the divide and bring you riches of food and security . . . to allow our people to flourish and expand our empire!” The applause grew, shivering through me.
The speech sounded similar to one my father gave every year on my birthday.
“The time has come; our destiny is now! I have captured our hope, our future . . .” The music drummed dramatically, my heart thumping in rhythm.
“Ready?” Meya gripped the heavy drapery, the music thundering. “Go.” She shoved me forward, the curtain parting in a crescendo of harmony, my feet moving to the edge of the platform set above, overlooking the round room.
“The White Raven!”
A chorus of gasps pitched off the walls as I stepped out.
The enormous ballroom flickered in candlelight and was washed in gentle moonlight from the glass ceiling high above.
Over six stories reached up to the sky with decorative arches and intricate raven and moon designs carved into marble and wood.
Mirrors were placed along the muted walls, allowing the above to sparkle and reflect with glittering light.
The lustrous full moon shone down through the transparent dome ceiling with a silvery glow, sparkling the room like diamonds, as chandeliers dripped down from the edges of the ceiling as though stars were hovering within reach of our fingers.
An orchestra was placed on a level slightly below the main floor, the music soaring up into the dome, and then poured down on us like a waterfall, stealing my breath with its powerful notes.
My heart pounded as all eyes were cast on me, the single snowflake fluttering aimlessly across the perilous night.
Everyone standing below was dressed in black.
The women adorned in feathery black gowns, their faces painted in dark symbols and embellishments like masks, their hair in elaborate braids and styles, with jewels and moon headdresses glinting their brilliance.
The men were in fancy black tunics with velvety black capes, black markings covering their eyes and scrolling down the side of their necks.
My eyes searched over the hidden faces, panic bubbling in my veins. The need for comfort, for an anchor to keep me afloat, drove me to seek someone out, but all I got were strangers staring at me with awe and wariness, their fear seeping with unrest.
“Isn’t she exquisite?” A voice pulled my attention to a platform straight across from mine where the king stood, motioning to me.
His figure cut in a rich, fitted black tunic and pants with intricate embroidered silver moons and ravens patterned out along the high neck and chest, catching the light and making them appear to be moving.
His hair was sleeked back and tied with a band dripping of chains and jewels.
Intricate designs were painted down the sides of his face and over his eyes.
A large moonstone pendant sat at the base of his throat, matching the one in my crown.
The thralls I saw around him the night before were arrayed behind him, the women dressed in very thin and revealing gowns, their faces decorated, while the men wore only trousers, their torsos covered in symbols and gems, like walking art pieces.
“My soon-to-be wife . . .” His lips tugged up in a devious smile, his eyes on me, making me feel that what he said went so much deeper than I even understood. “And queen.”
The crowd murmured with shock; the gasps of denial turned them to their king for answers. He hushed them with a single finger.
“She is foretold! The magic that will cure us . . . She will bring the sun back to us. Solidify our right to rule.” He spoke to his people, his confidence soothing their feathers instantly, their alarm turning to claps and cheers of approval.
“I will sacrifice anything to protect you.” He dipped his head to them like some martyr.
“So, welcome the White Raven, the one destined to be at my side the day we alter our destiny!”
Applause began throughout the room as more and more people accepted his statement, their chants for King Helvig filling the area like a drumbeat. He lifted his palm again and they went quiet instantly. Gavric’s eyes turned on me, curling his fingers, beckoning me to come to him.
My heels locked to the floor, my hands rolling into fists, staring back, everything in my bones wanting to defy him, letting him know I would not go willingly. He could dress me up as his queen, but we both knew I would never be.
Anger flashed in his eyes, reading my body language, his mouth thinning as the crowd’s applause started to wane, taking notice of my resistance.
“Come, my dove,” he gritted through his teeth, giving me another opportunity. I held my head higher. The color of the gown reminded me who I was, what my obligation had been since I could remember.
Rage burned in his eyes as he lowered his hand, straightening up.
Murmurs broke through the assembly, the lack of music turning them into a hum in my ears.
The throng of people parted, like the sea was being divided, and I heard boots clipping over the marble floor.
A massive figure strode through, climbing the steps to me.
My heart leaped up my throat, robbing me of breath.
Onyx.
Dressed in black leathers head to toe, his ripped body dominated over the others like they were ants.
His chest plate was embroidered in fine detail around the king’s emblem and a black cape draped off his shoulders, widening his already broad chest. Scruff accentuated his strong jaw, and his short hair emphasized his features, standing him out even more among his people.
Though there was something about him which could never have blended in.
Something uniquely Onyx that I couldn’t define.
Heat rushed over my body the moment my gaze captured him, my heart slamming in my chest at his rugged beauty, fluttering and twisting my stomach at his approach. He came to a stop before me. His dark eyes met mine with force.
“My lady.” He spoke, lowering his head in a bow.
“Don’t, kanin,” he muttered for only me to hear, his gravelly voice cracking down my spine.
“Do not fight him. Not here.” He lifted his head.
My gaze searched his, feeling a deeper meaning behind his words, as if he was telling me—Be smart. Play the long game.
He twisted around, holding out his arm for me to take. He stared off with a stoic expression, appearing like I was nothing more than cargo to him, but within the stoniness, I saw that familiar tick in his jaw. The one I had provoked so many times during our journey.