Secrets of the Starcrossed

by Clara O'Connor

  The handfast ceremony was rumoured to produce some strange effects. Handfasted couples were known to be affectionate with each other even if they never had been before. It was traditional to be married within no more than a month or so of the handfast, but couples promised to each other from a young age, such as we had been, were also given the opportunity to break the handfast and call off the wedding entirely. It was an option that supposedly ensured no one ever had to marry against their wishes if they decided the match was not true. But this was unheard of. I’d witnessed couples that had been undeniably indifferent to each other before the handfast become utterly devoted to each other and desperate to tie the knot by the end of the period.

  “That’s our belief,” he said.

  There was no way that Devyn was unaware of the effects of the handfast. All he’d done for years was study the citizenry; he missed nothing. It also explained his strange mood. He was coiled tighter than I had ever seen him, every muscle wound tight, every emotion battened down, clearly preparing for a storm that would devastate us both.

  But who would be the one to unleash that storm? Even as my own rage simmered to the surface, I sensed that underneath the rigid mask Devyn was not happy about his orders either.

  “Marcus is barely speaking to me” I said, “ever since the night of the ball. He knows I feel nothing for him except as a friend. He wouldn’t even call me that now. He blames me, I think, for the magic. He’s convinced himself that somehow I’m responsible for it, for what happened with Fidelma, with you, everything. I think he’s going along with the handfast, with the marriage”—I looked at Devyn for a reaction, but there was nothing—“in order to keep practising medicine. His father has been watching us closely. I’m sure he knows there’s something we’re hiding. I’m just a silly lowborn with mixed blood, but I think he knows there’s more to Marcus’s successes with the illness. The way he watches him is… like he’s not human, like he’s something he’d rather lock in a cage.”

  “You care for him?” Devyn asked emotionlessly, leaning further back into the shadows of the cascading plants.

  Did I care for him? Marcus in public was still the perfect gentleman, but I found it increasingly difficult to be the girl on his arm as we attended events. I used to suppose him a vain party boy who played at being a doctor. I knew better now; he had allowed me to see behind the glamour, behind the public face that was Marcus Courtenay, and he had nearly killed himself trying to help others. He was struggling to accept the magic in his blood, and the tightening snare towards which we were being marched, and he blamed me for some of it.

  It wasn’t fair, but I was the one who had forced him to face the truth. I consoled myself by remembering that if I hadn’t, he would most likely be dead by now. That didn’t mean he’d thanked me though. Since the few minutes during which we had managed to talk while they’d planned our lives for us, he had treated me as an obligation, coolly aloof beneath a charming façade. It made my skin crawl… or at least want to very badly punch him in the face. Anything for an honest reaction.

  “Yes,” I stated. It was the truth. I did care. Not in the sense Devyn implied, but if I couldn’t punch Marcus in the face then Devyn was an equally deserving target. Marcus might resent the fact that we were being hurried into handfasting, but for Devyn to stand by and do nothing when he had a viable alternative was unforgivable.

  “What is the plan then? How will this work?”

  “I’ll use you.” Devyn’s smile was dark. “Handfasted couples can’t be apart for long periods. It has something to do with the arm cuffs you wear in the pre-wedding period. I guess the powers that be really believe that artificially manipulated closeness makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Won’t they just take it off his arm if I leave the city without him?”

  “I don’t think they can. From what I’ve been able to discover it’s triggered to release only on completion of the marriage ceremony. It doesn’t seem to be in any way technologically controlled, despite what the Empire insists. I’ve researched it as far as I can. It was first used at the Treaty wedding because Princess Margaret and her Courtenay groom shared no love for each other after the generations of warfare. I’m assuming they’ve somehow managed to replicate the Celtic magic so somebody beyond the walls should be able to get it off you both.”

  “Should?” It all sounded incredibly iffy to me. “If that doesn’t work, what then? After everything, Marcus and I would be stuck together anyway.”

  “We will figure it out,” he promised.

  I wasn’t as convinced as Devyn that Marcus would be willing to flee the city, to abandon his medical career and his patients, all for me, magic cuff or no. But what choice did we have? It was too late now.

  My blood was now riled by more than just worry about the logistics of our escape across the wall. The distance Devyn was keeping between us was noticeable. I thought things had changed between us the night of the ball, that I’d seen through the wall he’d built up, that he did want me. Yet I could feel him pulling away.

  “And us?” I whispered.

  Again, Devyn was slow to answer. “There is no us.”

  He couldn’t be serious.

  A rustle ran through the grove, disturbing the peace and alerting Devyn to the anger rippling through my veins.

  “If there is no us, explain to me why I should leave my life here for some hovel beyond the wall with your barbarian friends,” I hissed.

  “Cass, you…”

  He leaned forward and ran a calming hand along my arm. At least, I presumed he meant it to be calming. Instead, it was as though a lick of fire seared along my skin in the wake of his fingertips. It was all I could do to refocus on his words as he continued speaking.

  My mind was reeling from the impact of the change of plan. We weren’t leaving. I was handfasting with Marcus. But I was here now. We were alone. I had one last chance to remind him of what we were together, what he was now so casually risking to follow orders. He had promised me we were leaving together.

  “I have nothing to offer you once we leave. Less than nothing, as I’ve just been reminded.” His tone was flat, deadened. The words had the ring of a refrain that had been repeated over and over like a mantra.

  I turned from the fountain to face him. He was much closer than I had expected and my eyes dropped towards his lips as I raised a fingertip to trace the outline of his face. He frowned.

  “Are you listening to me? We can’t… You need to handfast to Marcus.”

  But my eyes and fingertips were busy exploring every pore, every beautiful angle and plane of his face.

  “Cass, dammit.” He detached my hands from his face and pulled away. “I have my orders. I won’t be my father. He brought ruin on our house, on our family, on our people that day. Because he loved me. Much good it did him. I haven’t uttered a word to him since. I will not fail in my duty again.”

  I watched as the vein in his temple pulsed. He hadn’t spoken to his father since that day on the river? But he’d only been a child himself.

  “Nor will I be weak like him. I will do the right thing for our people. They come first, before me. Before you.” He spoke like he was making a vow. He looked incandescent, like a righteous avenging angel. Steadfast in the face of temptation.

  I realised I was that temptation. I smiled wickedly at him as I leaned in, but he leaned away until he fell back against the couch.

  “Why does it have to be a choice? We can follow your orders and bring Marcus. Then we can see about everything else… It’s not a weakness to want each other,” I informed him gravely as I traced his face again with my fingertips. Nothing could be more certain. We wanted each other; everything else could be worked out later.

  Wanting Devyn was all I had thought about for months and now it was the sole focus of my entire mind, body, and soul. Realising we were far too far apart, I moved forward, straddled his lap, and was rewarded by the sight of those dark eyes dilating. I squirmed closer and an intimate
twitch told me he was not nearly as indifferent as he strove to appear.

  “Cass, what the – what is wrong with you?” His voice was a husky growl.

  Good question. I was furious with him… and apparently I was pouring that rage and frustration into seduction. If tomorrow I was to handfast with Marcus, then I was making the most of tonight. Of what was real when Devyn and I were together.

  After the final fitting, I had gone to tea with my mother and her sister and some of their friends, as was the tradition. But I had been served a different brew to everyone else, a traditional bridal tea that was taken during the handfast month. There had been a comment from one of the women that Marcus and I were hardly in need of it, which had earned her a glare from my mother. I had become so used to snide comments like this since the ball that I hadn’t given it much thought at first.

  There had been some knowing glances between the women as I sat there going through the motions, pretending to blush at their cringingly racy talk, wondering how I could get to Devyn this evening.

  My mother’s prompt to drink my tea had disturbed my ruminations on what it would be like once we were gone from here, out over the borders. Into the future. I had thought I’d be gone. Instead, I would have to continue living the charade my life had become. I’d lifted the tea to sip it and had caught another round of conspiratorially smirking glances between the women. Had they slipped something in my tea? It wasn’t possible… or was it? There were rumours that more physical relations between a reluctant couple were actively encouraged during handfast. How actively encouraged?

  I had taken a sip and felt the liquid warming me, confirming my suspicions. They wanted me to engage in illicit activities.

  In that case, far be it from me to abstain. I traced Devyn’s lips. Again, he grasped my hands in his own to pull them away but from my much more intimate position all I had to do was lean in to take his lips with my own.

  Devyn groaned as my tongue replaced my fingers, tracing his lips, probing. His groan deepened as he gave in and finally kissed me back. Our tongues tangled and dived, enmeshed in each other. It felt like heaven and I smiled delightedly as I took a breath.

  Devyn used the break to turn his face away and I mewled my frustration.

  “Please, Devyn.”

  His hands were like a vice, moving to my upper arms and holding me away from him. I wriggled our lower bodies together to compensate.

  “Cass, stop. What are you doing?”

  “What does it feel like I’m doing?” I might have managed to pour out most of the drugged tea but the tiny sip I’d swallowed had heightened my senses and now I was inclined to indulge them.

  Devyn groaned again. He stood, taking me with him, ensuring our bodies were no longer touching. The delicious warmth tingling through me cried out for more.

  “Please,” I begged. “Don’t you care at all?”

  “Of course I care, but I’ve told you we can’t do this. We can’t be together.”

  “Why, because you have nothing? When we leave I won’t have anything either. It doesn’t matter to you at all that tomorrow I’ll be handfasted to another man?”

  “Tomorrow?” he echoed. “Next week, you mean?”

  “Tomorrow,” I repeated. “Tomorrow is the big day when I get to be the luckiest girl in Londinium. Who wouldn’t want the charming Marcus Courtenay, with his stunning green eyes, and that hair—”

  “Cassandra,” he cut me off, “not tomorrow; the ceremony is next week.”

  “It’s tomorrow,” I spat. “The other date was just to fool the paps. My dress is already sitting in my wardrobe.”

  He looked stunned.

  “I’m supposed to be at home with my mother right now,” I added, “fussing over last-minute preparations or sneaking off to meet my future husband – that’s what other girls do the night before. She didn’t seem bothered when I asked if I could go and buy Marcus a present; if anything she seemed relieved.”

  I stopped talking when I realised Devyn was no longer listening to me.

  “Tomorrow…” he growled.

  But then he leaned in to kiss me.

  And it blew the previous one away. If the last had been a candle lighting the dark recesses of my soul, this was a trillion-watt bulb. His kiss was demanding, possessive, claiming. It told me over and over that I was his, only his, always his. I returned it like for like. For if he owned me, then I also owned him. Every part of him was mine. The flame licked higher, seeking ever more fuel. I felt his shirt tear as I tugged at the unwieldy buttons. Then his chest was bare, free for my hands to roam across and around behind his back, clawing at his shoulders.

  He held me to him as I bowed backwards and his mouth pressed hard against mine, his lips moving across my throat like a man possessed.

  “Yes,” I sighed, hitching a leg over his hip. I wasn’t sure whether it was my word or my action, but something snapped him back. He stilled, his breathing heavy as he tried to claw back his usual iron control.

  “Cass,” he rasped, “what is wrong with you?”

  I giggled. Despite my frustration that he had put distance between us again, my eyes were still having a great time roving across all the bare skin on show now that his shirt was mostly off.

  “Bridal tea.” I smiled wickedly, though in truth it was merely an excuse to hide behind.

  The lack of comprehension on Devyn’s face tickled me enormously. Usually, I was the one trailing a step behind.

  “Ah, clever Devyn, you don’t know everything then,” I teased. “Let me go and I’ll tell you.”

  He might be a step behind on the bridal tea and my plan for what little freedom remained to me, but he more than saw my next move coming as he slowly released me and stood in suffering silence as I sidled up to him and started stroking his smooth silken skin. It was golden bronze, darker in the hollows. He stopped my hand and I looked up at him blankly.

  I took a seat in the corner of his idyllic little nook in the wall and beckoned him closer, patting the seat beside me.

  “The handfast isn’t just about…” I paused until he complied and took a seat beside me. “Not just about the soon-to-be-happy couple spending time together. Though, clever boy”—I tangled my fingers in the glossy hair on his clever, clever head—“spending time together is certainly encouraged. You’ve got to know it often has certain… that is to say, what outraged everyone at the ball will be expected as soon as we are handfasted. My match is a lie foisted upon me so tonight I want to choose my truth. Tonight, I choose you.”

  It was outrageous, and the closer I got to being married the more I realised it was all a complete sham. There was no such thing as being matched; centuries ago, families arranged the marriages of their children – they still did. Now they used aphrodisiacs and other contraptions to ensure that the couple were happy to walk down the aisle together. At the end of the handfast, it could all still be called off, though I had never heard of that happening… and now I knew why. From the tiny sip I’d taken, I had no doubt that drinking the whole cup would have incited me to crawl across hot coals if it meant I could have Devyn right now, an urge that was supposed to be leading me in Marcus’s direction were I not so distracted by another.

  “If you don’t tell me what’s going on, I’m going to put a new shirt on,” Devyn said very, very slowly.

  “It appears the devious council pretty much guarantee that a handfasted couple will want to be together,” I informed him. “I had tea with my mother today. It’s tradition. Oops. I told you that already. But did I tell you it makes me want to do the most interesting things to you?”

  “You mean you’ve been drugged.” He went very still, flinching away from me.

  “Mmm, that was certainly what they intended, although you are not its intended target. But don’t worry, after I’m handfasted its effects will no longer be wasted on you.” I moued sadly.

  Every muscle underneath my roving hands tensed.

  “You don’t feel anything for him though,”
he said.

  I kissed his lips softly, tenderly.

  “No, but you don’t want me,” I sighed. “And he’ll be there.”

  Devyn growled, capturing my hands and staring into my eyes.

  “I want you.”

  “Then take me.” I smiled. “Please. Let it be you.”

  His eyes turned sombre. “You’re out of your mind. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

  “I know exactly what I’m saying.” My hand came up and rested flat against his cheek. “I don’t know what the future holds. Maybe I never make it across the wall. Maybe I marry Marcus and give the Empire what they want. Maybe I’m completely trapped in this life.”

  I willed him to hear me. I had put myself out there. I couldn’t bear it if he turned me away.

  I needed him. He was here. I had always wanted him. And I was here.

  “But just for tonight. This one single night. Couldn’t we be together? Then I will go and do as your friends ask.”

  Haunted eyes looked back at me. I could see the battle he fought inside. I had heard him earlier and I knew how important his cause was to him. How shamed he was by his father’s weakness. That he prided himself on his strength of will. He was the most single-minded person I had ever known. I prayed to whatever gods existed that he would let that iron will bend. Just this once.

  “You know,” I said impishly, “on the night of her handfast I saw my oh-so-prim-and-proper older cousin push her groom up against a wall and then she put her hand down here…” My hand slipped just a whisper beneath the waistband of his trousers. “I wondered at the time what she was doing…”

  I leaned into his unmoving figure and kissed him again, my teeth taking hold of his bottom lip and tugging.

  “I only want to do that with you,” I sighed into his ear.

  He started to take hold of me to lift me away. “You don’t know what you’re doing. It’s the drug.”

  “It’s not the drug.” Damn him, why couldn’t he let me hide behind the excuse of the tea. But I had been manipulated all my life. This, this was for me. I chose this. “I didn’t drink it.”