The Complete Madion War Trilogy

by S. Usher Evans

  Grieg's attention shifted to me, and the disdain on his face was clear. "It appears the bride has had too much to drink."

  "I haven't had a drop, and you're a filthy liar." Blood pumped in my ears. "Bayard was the one who built that plane, out of desperation because you wouldn't stop bombing us."

  "I think the bride might need to go back to her—"

  "Don't touch my wife," Galian snarled next to me, grabbing my hand. "Everyone in this room knows the truth. Bayard tried to escalate the war, and we stopped it before it happened. So if you want to blame someone for making things worse, blame him. Or even better, blame yourself for not being a better king and ending this senseless war sooner."

  Grieg stared at us, and then chuckled as whispered murmurings echoed through the room. "They are perfect for each other, you see! Two children who love their drink. Korina, why don't you get them to bed before the big day tomorrow?"

  I saw movement out of the corner of my eye, but it wasn't Korina, or even Kader. It was Grieg's guards, and they were pushing their way through the crowd to get to us.

  The warnings about a funeral instead of a wedding rang in my ear. "Amichai," I whispered, holding tight to his arm. "They can't separate us—"

  "I'm not sure we have much of a choice," came his dry response. Could he ever be serious?

  Grieg's men surrounded us, pushing aside the crowd of people. One guard took me and another latched on to Galian as they yanked us apart, and it felt like ripping off an arm. I tried to turn back, but the hold on my arms was too tight to do anything but move with them. They half-drug me toward the other side of the room, as I searched for Korina or Kader or even Rhys, but saw none of them. I silently begged the passive Kylaen faces to do something, to step up and stop their despot king, but they stared back, unwilling or unable to help.

  "Theo!"

  The end of the room was fast approaching, and I twisted as best I could in the grip of the guards to get one last look at my amichai. The only person I saw was the king, who raised his glass to me—the last thing I saw before the door closed behind me.

  Galian

  I watched them take my wife through a door, and I didn't care who saw how much I fought against them. It was no longer about appearances—Grieg would kill either of us without thinking twice. But the guards proved too powerful for me, and they wrestled me into a side room where they left me to worry and pace and feel the champagne churning unhappily in my stomach.

  Hours passed, or what felt like hours, and my feet began to hurt. But I kept pacing, kept trying the door to see if I could break through it. But if I did, my father's guards would be on me in a second. There was no way out for me.

  How could everything have gone so wrong in such a short time? My father had truly gone mad if he thought he could go to war with Herin and Jervan—or that they'd acquiesce as easily as Rave had. Granted, they didn't have our military might, or the resources to quickly put together a defense.

  Okay, so maybe it wasn't such a mad idea. Especially since Kylae already had the military resources from fifty years of war against Rave.

  Plus now, he had Raven soldiers—already trained and battle-ready—at his disposal.

  I groaned and sank into a nearby chair. I hated how much sense this made to me, because I feared I was as crazy as he was.

  Finally, when I thought I might tear my hair out from frustration, the door opened and my father swept into the room, rosy faced and cheery with the smell of brandy on his breath. That he could continue to wine and dine without a care in the world while keeping his own son prisoner was telling. But as soon as the door closed, his veneer dropped and there was disgust and disappointment in his snarl. How convenient that I felt the same way about him.

  "Well, that was quite a scene you put on—"

  "Fuck you!" I screamed. "What the hell is going on around here? Where is Theo?"

  "Your fiancée—"

  "Wife."

  "Whatever you wish to call her, she's being taken care of. We wouldn't want her to be worried the night before her wedding."

  "Because you're so concerned about her," I snapped. "And what, I'm not allowed to leave this room? The night before my wedding, and I'm a prisoner at gunpoint? Where's Mom? And Rhys—"

  "You'll see them tomorrow," Grieg said with a wave of his hand. "I find it best to separate the three of you, as you tend to get into trouble together. I've also permanently assigned your guard, Kader, to the castle tomorrow. I'm sure he'll be receiving his retirement papers. Least I could do for all his years of service."

  I wanted to punch him in the face.

  "I came here to inform you myself that the wedding will go on tomorrow, as planned. You, and your mother, and brother, will hear the same thing from me: step one toe out of line, and I'll have your Raven girl killed."

  My heart skipped a beat, but I couldn't believe him. "In front of all those people? In front of the international media?"

  "That Anson fellow has been a good scapegoat until now. After all, with his operations decimated, it would make sense for him to become a bit...desperate. Desperate men do desperate things, like killing a woman on her wedding day."

  My head swam and, again, I hated how much sense he was making.

  "After all, the sight of you crying over the corpse of your fiancée—"

  "Wife."

  "I doubt anyone would find it in their hearts to support such a merciless faction," Grieg finished.

  I desperately wished for something smart to say, some brilliant repartee that would put him back in his place. But there was nothing I could say. Not when I couldn't get the image of my wife's dead body out of my mind.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Theo

  The sun dawned on the day of my wedding, and it was all I could do not to throw up. Several armed guards had escorted me from the engagement party, careful enough not to bruise, but forceful enough to know they meant business, and put me in a car. The drive was short, and the destination horrifying—a large Kylaen church on the northern end of the city.

  They'd put me in a room, alone, and locked the door. The one window was too small for me to squeeze through, and even if I could, it was covered in thick bars.

  I was trapped.

  I worried about my amichai, and what his father might do to him. I worried about Kader, and prayed he wouldn't fall to the desperation that had plagued me and do something stupid. I worried for my country. I worried for Jervan and Herin, who would be waking up to the news that they were under attack.

  I worried for the Raven soldiers who'd die fighting another war they didn't want anything to do with.

  But I wasn't scared for my own death. That, I was sure, was an inevitability at this point. My only question was—by whose hand would it happen?

  The sun had moved higher in the sky when I finally heard voices. The door unlocked, and Emilie walked in, followed by her trusty hairstylist and Filippa, who carried a large bag. Filippa didn't stay long, although she seemed more haughty than usual.

  "Emilie..." I was glad to see her, and surprised by just how glad I was.

  "Sit," she said. "We have work to do."

  I did as instructed and let the hairstylist curl and pin my hair, and apply makeup to my face while Emilie unzipped the dress from the bag. It was the first time I'd seen it; layers of white that cinched at the waist. Long sleeves that extended to my wrists. Very little skin would be shown; presumably, Grieg's doing.

  "You looked gorgeous last night, by the way," Emilie said with a small wink. "Aline would've been proud."

  "But to what end?" I said, stepping into the dress. "We failed."

  Emilie said nothing as she zipped up the dress, but the zipper stuck. "Suck in, Theo. I know the Kylaens haven't been feeding you that well."

  I did, and the dress zipped, but it seemed tight in the bust too. Emilie cocked her head at me then raised an eyebrow. "Are you pregnant?"

  I barked a laugh. "There is no way I'm..."

  But realization washed o
ver me. I very well could've been. With all the stress of the wedding, Emilie watching us, the plane crash, the media pressure, I'd completely forgotten about contraception. And Galian and I had been taking full advantage of our time together.

  "Oh my God." I swooned, and Emilie steadied me. "I can't be. Not now. Not with all this going on." I shook my head. "I want to talk to my husband. I need to talk to Galian."

  "Theo, right now, you know that's not an option," Emilie said. "The only way you're getting out of this room is when it's time to go."

  I shook my head. I couldn't go through with this wedding, not knowing that Galian and I might've created something so precious. The danger we found ourselves in on a daily basis was far more terrifying knowing our child was involved. They would take it from us, I knew they would. Or kill me before word got out. Grieg would never allow a half-Raven child in his bloodline.

  I suddenly couldn't breathe.

  "P-please," I whispered. "I have to talk to him."

  Emilie hesitated then helped me sit down on the chair. "Stay here. I'll see...see what I can do."

  She disappeared through the door, and I pushed myself up to stand. I was so tired, but my fears kept me wide awake. I'd accepted my death as an inevitability, but now...

  The dress constricted my movements, but I managed to pace a bit, pulling the tight material on my arms as far as it would go. The skirt swished as I moved, and I'd likely trip on it during my slow walk. But those were small distractions from larger fears.

  The door jiggled and my heart stopped.

  Was it time?

  But it was Korina, not Emilie, who came into the room. She opened her mouth to speak, but I was quicker. "I think I'm pregnant and Grieg's going to kill me."

  Korina stopped midstride, shock on her face. Then, she crossed the room and pulled me into an embrace. "Oh, Theo."

  "I don't know what to do," I said, wrapping my arms around her. "I'm so scared."

  "Ssh, it's all right, my love."

  It was yet another distraction from the looming terror, but I let Korina hold me the way I'd never been held before. Like a child by her mother.

  "Take a deep breath. There's a good girl," Korina said gently.

  "What do I do?"

  "We will get through this day," Korina whispered, holding my cheeks in her hands. "You and I will have a long conversation tonight about what this means, and how you would like this to be handled. After, of course, we celebrate." She actually smiled and chuckled. "My first grandchild. I'm so pleased."

  Her joy was a little infectious, releasing some of the tension in my head. "Galian's going to be so happy."

  "He's going to be a wonderful father," she said. "So very unlike his own. And you, my love, will make an amazing mother."

  "Thank you, 'kaachai—"

  My heart stopped in my chest as I realized what I'd just said. It had just come out, the same way it had come out when I had first called Galian amichai. Those rare moments when all the words in the common tongue weren't enough to describe an emotion or a feeling, and all I had was the ancient Raven language.

  "I'm sorry," I said, my face flaming in embarrassment.

  "Why are you apologizing, my love?" Her eyes grew wetter. "Don't tell my boys, but I've always wanted a daughter. And to have someone as strong and passionate as you think of me as your mother..." She cleared her throat. "I'm honored."

  "Korina, what about Grieg?" I said. "He's going to...he's going to kill me..."

  "I won't let him," she said fiercely. "Nothing is going to happen to you today, Theo. You have my word."

  She embraced me again, and I struggled to keep my emotions from ruining my makeup, especially as Emilie told us it was time. Everything screamed in me to dig my heels in, to refuse to go. To handcuff myself to the room and cause a scene. But knowing there was a chance—even a small one—that I could be responsible for more than myself moved my feet.

  Korina held tight to me as we walked out of the room toward the main church. Everything was unfamiliar—we'd not even had a chance to rehearse. I was expected to stand there quietly and accept my fate. Perhaps Grieg had anticipated I'd be malleable. Perhaps he didn't care.

  "Ah, there's the bride!" Bayard stood at the back doors, wearing a nice suit with a red tie. Red, the color of Kylae, not gold or black, like Rave. Everything about him made me sick.

  "Don't talk to me," I said, standing beside him.

  He chuckled and took my arm in his, much as a father would. "Smile, Theophilia. It's your wedding day."

  I forced a smile onto my face as the doors opened and the congregation stood. "Fuck off."

  Galian

  Filippa stood at the entrance to the church, watching her clipboard and glancing at the time. "Where is your brother?" she muttered to no one.

  If I had to guess, he'd been locked in a room much as I had. I'd spent the night pacing and hoping Theo was all right, worrying about the wedding, about the war. About what my father might do. All of my bravery had gone out the window when he'd threatened Theo. I didn't care if I had to kiss his boots in public; if it meant Theo could walk away from this wedding unharmed, I'd do it.

  Finally, my brother arrived, flanked by two of my father's guards. He wore a sour expression, but nodded to me with relief in his eyes. I was sure he'd been told the same thing by my father, and I offered him a silent promise that I'd be a good boy.

  "Do you know your directions?" Filippa said, with uncharacteristic authority. "Follow Father Mark out, and bow to your father as he gives you a blessing."

  I nodded, as did Rhys, and he clapped me on the shoulder as we queued up behind the old priest. Filippa motioned for us to walk, and we did, entering into the cavernous space already filled with people. I scanned the room for anyone out of place, an assassin gunning for my wife. I spotted Olivia, sitting somewhere in the back of the church, and wished I'd thrown Theo over my shoulder and taken her to Jervan when she'd offered it. Kader and Rosie sat three rows away from me, both their faces grim and accepting. I caught Kader's eye and wished he could read minds.

  "Kneel," Rhys muttered beside me, and I realized we'd reached my father. Against every instinct, I fell to my knee in front of my father, staring at the reflection in his black shoes and reminding myself of his threat. He was a man who had won everything. He'd played us all, keeping us in the dark while he set out to conquer the world. And for what purpose, I still had no idea. Even if he managed to take over Herin and Jervan, all the money in the world wouldn't sate him.

  I looked at my mother, begging her for answers. But her gaze was on the back of the room, her expression tough and unrelenting.

  "My son," Grieg began, his voice echoing through the room. "You have my blessings on this most joyous day."

  I'll bet I do, you son of a bitch.

  With Rhys' guidance, I stood, but refused to meet my father's gaze. Instead, I turned back to the room, looking at every face and trying to remember if I knew them or not. What I wouldn't give for Rhys' photo flash cards again...

  The back doors opened and despite those in the room with their eyes on me, I sighed in relief at seeing her in one piece. She was beautiful, though she looked nothing like herself. Her brown eyes were lined, her lips a blood red. Even her skin seemed a shade lighter—no doubt Emilie's doing. Two large diamond earrings lay against her ears, and her black hair was swept up and pinned by her veil. The corset was lined with diamonds and gold, cinching at her waist then spilling out in a voluminous skirt so big Bayard could barely stand beside her. From the look on Theo's face, I could tell she'd much rather he was a continent away.

  They moved slowly down the aisle, Bayard beaming as if she were his own daughter, and Theo's face pressed firmly into annoyance. Had I been a bystander, I would've guessed she'd had no choice but to get married to me.

  And of course, every fiber of my being wanted to scream at her to run away. Or to say nothing. Anything to protect her from my father.

  Theo's walk was slow and measured, as
if she'd practiced this a thousand times already. But as she drew closer, there was something else on her face—fear. She was afraid. My stoic, brave pilot was gone and in her place was a woman who knew her days were numbered—and was trying desperately to extend them.

  She and Bayard met me at the bottom of the stairs, and I took her other arm in mine, grateful to have her close again. Theo's gaze went to Bayard, and she opened her mouth a few times, as if she wanted to tell me something, but not in front of Bayard.

  "Welcome," Grieg said, standing before us. "Welcome to this blessed occasion. This celebration of love, this blessed union of two souls—and two countries."

  Theo's arm tensed against mine. "Galian, I think I'm—"

  The crowd gasped behind us then a voice rang out, clear as day.

  "Once for Rave!"

  Bam.

  My father slumped on his seat in front of me, his eyes unseeing, a trickle of blood appearing in the center of his forehead.

  I spun around to see the man in the center of the aisle, his smoking gun pointed at us.

  "Twice for traitors!"

  Bam.

  Bayard went down.

  I had only a split second to act.

  Bam.

  Theo

  I fell backward, landing with a grunt on the step we'd been standing on. Someone was screaming. No, hundreds of people were screaming. The back of my head hurt from where I'd fallen, pushed backward by Galian, who lay on top of me. I turned my head to the left, and my breath caught in my throat.

  Grieg was dead. Slumped over on his throne with crimson trickling from a single bullet wound in his head. Nothing left of the despot but an empty shell. It seemed silly to be afraid of him now, when something so simple had felled him.

  To my right, Bayard. His body had twisted in an odd way when he'd fallen. He, too, lay oddly still, his eyes open and unseeing back at me, his mouth skewed in permanent shock.