Thera shook her head. “I am not telling you because I think Rayna's visions might harm her. I strengthened her dose as much as I could. She's as protected from the dreams in Maenor as much as anywhere else. I’m telling you because,” Thera hesitated, choosing her words with care, “because one of Mya and Eron’s biggest fears concerned what would happen if the truth about the seer line became known.”
“What was that?” asked Bayne.
“That someone would use Rayna for her abilities. I fear there's a chance Rhael may be doing just this.”
“You think that Rhael wanted to wed Rayna because he somehow knew this?” Silver crossed her arms. “But how could he when we, her own family, had no idea? When she didn't know until you told her?”
“I know it seems impossible, but earlier Roxen told me of a conversation he overheard between Rayna and Rhael. He said that Rhael spoke of Mya's death and asked Rayna about nightmares. It could be coincidence. Perhaps I am overly suspicious, but I think you need to know that there is a possibility Rhael’s interest in Rayna is more than political. I am sorry that I did not tell you sooner, but I hadn't suspected a connection between Rayna's gift and Rhael's interest until Roxen told me what he'd overheard.”
Bayne clenched his fist. “I do not think it is possible to be overly suspicious where Rhael is concerned.”
Thera rose. “I leave you to your discussion. Again, I am sorry I kept this from you. I merely wanted to keep my word to Mya.” She ducked out of the den.
“Bayne,” Silver said, “what should we do? If Thera is wrong and we insist on Rayna's return, we endanger the treaty for nothing. And if she's right–”
“If we send for her return,” Bayne realized, “Rhael would not release her, not if he truly did deceive us.”
Silver looked up into his eyes, her worry matched only by her ferocity. “He might suspect that we learned his true motives. He could harm her. He might prefer that she be dead rather than returned to us.”
Bayne wrapped his arms around her. “I'll go to Anhorde myself. I'll bring her home.”
Silver wiped her eyes. “I love you for that, but how could you possibly take her from under Rhael's nose?” She shook her head. “We must be wise. Recklessness will only endanger peace and Rayna.”
He pulled away. “Are you suggesting we do nothing?”
“No. I'm suggesting we gather more information and plan before we act. If Thera’s right, then as long as Rhael believes us ignorant of his motives, Rayna is more useful to him alive than dead. That means we have time. The wedding is to be on the Solstice, but we can arrive early, and make arrangements with Georg and Declan—with all the Den Alphen—to have a force standing by near the border in case we discover anything amiss. More than likely, Rhael's words were nothing but coincidence, but if they weren't we shall be prepared.”
Bayne sought some chink in Silver’s logic, but could find none. “And if we learn that we have been deceived—that Rayna has been taken for a nefarious purpose?”
She framed his face with her hands. “Then Rhael will know the full wrath of the Fenearen army.”
Bayne brought his forehead to hers. “If anything happens to her, I will never forgive myself.”
“I know,” Silver said as she leaned into him, “neither will I.”
Chapter Eleven
Rayna’s candle burned, blue rivulets of wax pooling in its fine silver holder. She had insisted Coer go to bed long ago, though she suspected he would have stayed, had she asked. Protecting her was his duty, but the worry that darkened his blue eyes when she refused meals or declined his offers to walk the castle grounds, seemed genuine. His concern reminded her of Roxen, or Bayne. Their protectiveness had sometimes frustrated her. Here, though, far away from Bayne, Roxen, and everyone she loved, she appreciated Coer's brotherly presence. She traced the designs on her father's linden wood bracelet. Rhael had assigned Coer to her, so the guard could not be trusted. And yet, Rayna wished she could.
She leaned against the headboard, turning to the candle. The cornflower blue wax made her heart ache as she remembered Channon's eyes wide with more fear than she had ever seen in anyone. What had Rhael done to him? Would he truly force her to wed him to save Channon? And why did Rhael want to when she so clearly disgusted him? There was no way to know. Rayna growled and sliced open a feather pillow with an extended claw. Channon was suffering, and she could only trust the word of her lunatic husband-to-be? That was unacceptable.
She jumped out of her four-poster bed. Upon their arrival at Anhorde, Rhael had given her a partial tour of the palace. He had pointed out several doors “she was never to enter.” One particular door, iron and wide as she was tall, haunted her thoughts. Rhael had said any who crossed that threshold without his permission would be punished most severely. She had said nothing, but inside her mind had already begun to churn. What could Rhael be hiding? Was it possible there was some clue to breaking Channon's curse behind those iron doors? It was unlikely, but she had to know.
Rayna fitted a black robe over her sleeping shift and tied back her hair. She padded across the marble floor, placing her ear against the door. She couldn't hear anything. She opened the door wide enough to slip through, closing it soundlessly. She descended the tower stairs, sniffing the air once she reached the corridor. Rayna scented two guards around the corner, but as she crept closer, soft snores signaled that they were both asleep. The Overlord would not be very forgiving of that. Holding her breath, she crept past them.
Two more sets of guards stood between Rayna and her target, but she found roundabout passages that led her safely past them. The huge, iron door stood at last in front of her. She scented around the frame. Musty air wafted from below. A crypt? She took another whiff, inhaling a second scent. An almond-like aroma reminded her of Thera's den: old scrolls. If she were fortunate, perhaps she could find a clue about what Rhael had done to Channon. She reached for the handle, hoping the door was not locked.
“Stop!”
Rayna jumped back against the stone wall. Coer walked from the shadows, crossing in front of the door.
“Coer, please, I’ll go back to my room, I promise. Please don't tell the Overlord!” Rayna's heart sank. She'd been careless, assuming Coer had truly gone to bed.
“Rayna,” Coer whispered, “I would never do that. Listen, that door is spelled. It will burn you the moment you touch it, and Rhael will know you disobeyed him.”
She shook her head. “I don't understand. Why are you helping me? Being kind to me? What game is this?”
“A deeper game than you know.”
Footsteps echoed Coer's words and he grabbed her hand. “Back to your room. Hurry!” They sneaked past the other guards, sprinted up the tower, and into Rayna's bedroom. Once they were inside, Coer closed and locked the door.
“What were you thinking? Rhael was hoping you would snoop for answers. It's just another manipulation, Rayna.”
She glared at him. “And what are you?”
“Your friend.” The hurt in his voice surprised her.
“I'm supposed to believe that? I want to, Coer, but why would a Maenoren want to help me?”
“Not all Maenorens want a tyrant like Rhael for a leader.”
“What are you talking about?”
He sighed and sat down on a nearby wooden bench. “Rayna, you said you did not want to marry Rhael. You only agreed to this insanity because of what he took from you. What if...” he paused, his knuckles tightening where his fingers clasped together, “what if I told you of a way for us both to gain what we want?”
Rayna sat in a chair across from him. “What do you mean?”
“I know what, or rather who, the Overlord took from you.” He ignored her startled gasp and continued. “The Sionic Hex has not been cast in over two thousand years, Rayna. Every mage on Osterna felt it when Rhael cursed your friend. Including the one in the Maenoren Resistance.”
“The Maenoren Resistance?”
“A secret order of Maenor
ens dedicated to ending the Demetrian tyranny. With your help, we might succeed.”
“How could I possibly help?”
“Rayna, you can convince the Fenearens to resist, too! If we unite against Rhael, we’re certain the Alvornians and Soulousians will join, too. Four nations, united as one. It’s what your uncle was trying to create. The Resistance wanted more time to build our ranks and gather intelligence before we reached out, but Rhael's actions have forced our hand sooner rather than later. We need Fenear's help now.”
“Coer,” Rayna glanced at the cornflower blue candle, melted to a remnant of its former self, “I want to help you. But if I turn against Rhael, I will never see Channon again. I cannot abandon him. Besides, I did this to spare my packmates from war, not to further embroil them in it.”
“I understand. We do not wish for war either, but Rhael leaves us with no other option.”
“That may be, but Channon is my best friend. Rhael said he alone could release him, until I have another way, turning against Rhael would mean abandoning Channon.”
Coer paused, taking a deep breath. “There—might be another way to help your friend.”
Rayna sprang to her feet. “What is it? How can I save him?” She did not want to compromise the tenuous peace between Fenear and Maenor, but if there were a way to save Channon, she had to know.
Coer motioned her back down. “I'm not sure. I'm no mage. But I know someone who might have the answers we need. I'll send word to him, though I fear it might take time to hear back. We must use the utmost caution with our communications. If Rhael were to discover us, all would be lost.”
“All right. What can we do in the meantime?”
“Markus Seperun, our leader, wants you to write to your aunt and uncle, explaining what happened to your friend, and that you’re working with us to overthrow the Overlord. Rhael reads your correspondence of course, but this one I shall have delivered through the Resistance. If anyone can convince Fenear to rally behind us, it’s you.”
Rayna hesitated. If Rhael discovered such a letter, it would mean the destruction of the treaty, and her bargain for Channon's return. She wanted to see Rhael destroyed, but she wanted to protect those she loved more. “I don't know, Coer. If Fenear wars again, thousands may die.”
Coer shook his head. “Rayna, the battle never ended. All this talk of peace and unity is nothing but lies and misdirections to distract from Rhael's true intentions. Fenear is still in danger, they just don't know it yet.”
Rayna wanted to believe that Coer was wrong or lying, but this made much more sense than a monster like Rhael wanting peace. “But why all the lies? Why the marriage pact? Why am I still alive, and why does he want me here at all?”
“I wish we knew. As soon as we know more, I’ll tell you. For now, if you write that letter, I swear we will not deliver it until you know if Channon can be saved. Not unless we have to.”
If Coer were telling the truth, Fenear must be warned. But if this were all another trick, or a test, what would Rhael do when he found out that she had betrayed their agreement?
“I want to help you Coer, but how can I trust you? How do I know you are not acting on Rhael’s orders? That he won’t punish Channon if I do what you ask?”
“I wish I had irrefutable proof to offer. All I have is my word, and I know the word of a Maenoren means very little to you. But you’re a wolf, Rayna. Look me in the eyes. Listen to my heartbeat. I am telling the truth, and your instincts will show you that.”
Coer's dark blue eyes were pleading, but firm. His heart beat steady in his chest. Either he was an amazing liar, or he was telling the truth. If she were cautious, denying Coer's request, what would happen to Fenear if he were being genuine? Would her fear prevent her nation, her pack, and her family from being prepared for battle? Bayne had said she was allowed to be afraid, but he did not say she should let fear control her.
“I’ll write the letter. Just please do not deliver it until I discover how Channon can be saved.” She went to her desk and pulled out parchment and a quill.
“No, use this.” Coer handed her a roll of parchment from his cloak. Unlike that provided by the Overlord, this parchment was not perfumed. “So your aunt and uncle will be able to scent you, in case they doubt it's genuine.”
Her hands shook as she poured her feelings into the message to her aunt and uncle. They would be devastated. They had wanted peace, and instead she was giving them death and fear all over again. When she finished, she signed the letter, handing it to Coer. He folded it and slipped it into his cloak's inside pocket.
“Thank you, Rayna.” He patted his cloak. “I will guard this with my life.” He turned away, but stopped. “One last thing. Rhael has ears everywhere. We are safe enough alone here thanks to the Resistance mage's spellwork, but everywhere else, we must play the parts of the compliant queen-to-be and loyal guard, do you understand?”
“I understand. And Coer–thank you for giving me a way to fight back. It isn't in a Fenearen’s nature to give up.”
“Thank you for giving us hope.” He slipped from her room, leaving Rayna alone with her thoughts.
She smiled. Now she had a friend in Anhorde.
After Coer revealed himself as a Resistance member, Rayna was terrified that Rhael would confront her with that letter, that her actions had cost her Channon forever. Each time Rhael came to her chambers, or forced her to accompany him to the gardens or public appearances in the market square, she was certain he would produce the proof of her treason. But no such horror occurred. Instead, the more time she spent in Anhorde, the more convinced she became that Coer had told the truth. She would listen to his heartbeat through her door, examining his scent for any breath of treachery. There was none. Instead, her confidence and her affection for him grew. His sensitivity, his kind eyes, and his quiet bravery reminded her of Roxen. She had never had a brother, but Roxen had always been like one. He was far away now, but thanks to Coer, the hole in her heart where he had been did not ache as much.
Twenty days after her arrival, Rayna woke and wiped sleep from her eyes, leaving her fingertips smudged black with coal. Thera’s potion was working again; she had not remembered a single dream since leaving Fenear. She thanked the gods for that, because she could not have handled the anxiety of her nightmares along with everything else. She had endured twenty days of Rhael's abuse, of not resisting, of smothering her instincts until she knew whether or not there was a way for her to help Channon. She had sent weekly letters to her aunt and uncle at the Overlord's command, assuring them all was well, sharing plans for the Winter Solstice wedding. Normally, they would have smelled her fear that had leached into the parchment as she'd written, but Rhael knew that. He gave her only perfumed paper. At first, she sought ways to use her words to signal Bayne that something was wrong. But she could not risk discovery, not until she knew Channon could be saved without his help. After she heard back from the Resistance mage on how Channon could be saved—and if she really needed Rhael at all—the letter she had entrusted to Coer would reach them, and they would be prepared.
She pulled the slippery silk sheets up to her face and rubbed. Removing the paint her attendants applied to her face each day had taken getting used to. Everything here had taken some getting used to. For almost three weeks, Rayna had balanced her act for Rhael with her true intentions alongside Coer. So far, it seemed the Overlord did not suspect that she was not the scared and pathetic girl he'd extorted into absolute obedience.
Rayna lingered underneath the covers after she woke, unusual for her as back home, there were hunts to go on, friends to see, work to be done. For weeks now, at the Overlord's command, she had abstained from her wolf form. The wolf within her grew restless and agitated, and ached to run free through the forests. But that was not possible in Anhorde. Here there was only a wedding to be planned. Even if the marriage was a sham, the Winter Solstice loomed nearer and she had to play along, for Channon and Fenear. Rayna’s stomach flipped. A wedding to be
planned. Her wedding. Even the word was unfamiliar. In Fenear, the process of accepting a mate was private and informal. An announcement was made, followed by a celebration, but the actual union was for the mates alone. After a simple exchange of words, they would spend that night–and every other night of their lives–together. The Maenoren tradition, on the other hand, was steeped in spectacle.
Each day Rayna's attendants walked her through the ceremony again and again. It began with her Presentation, during which she entered the main ballroom, unaccompanied, in a jade mask and dress of her family’s “colors.” Of course Fenearens did not have “colors” (a fact which had appalled her attendants), so Rayna’s gown had been accented with leather and deer fur. It was a tantalizing reminder of her home, sewn between the yards and yards of dark Maenoren silks and lace. During the Presentation Rhael would accept her by removing her mask and gesturing for her to kneel before him. Rayna’s teeth extended at the thought of groveling like a scared pup before the Maenorens, but it was not the worst she would endure.
After the Presentation, she would change into her wedding gown constructed of a black, corseted bodice that hugged her body to the hips before it exploded into a monstrous muddle of black and gold–the Viper’s colors. They would exchange vows, and the ball would begin. The celebration would continue for days while she would make appearances full of smiles and love for her new lord. The entire ordeal was so full of exhibition, of artifice. But that was fitting, because that’s all it was—a mask. A show to distract from Rhael's actual intentions for her and for Fenear.
During her nightly conversations with Coer, she often wondered aloud what those intentions were. Coer had not yet heard from the other Resistance member about how to reverse Channon's hex or any other news of importance. So they speculated instead. She knew Rhael stood to gain something from this alliance and her acquiescence. What it was though, she could not yet determine.
Forcing herself back to the present, Rayna slid from her silken sheets and listened for Coer. Outside her door, his even breaths reminded her that she was not completely alone. Through it all, the painful beauty treatments, etiquette lessons, and public moments when she and Rhael had to feign affection for one another (a task, Rayna sensed, that was as disgusting for him as for her), Coer had been her comfort. He alone cared that she was miserable, that she had given up everything she had ever dreamed of wanting. Occasionally, she'd seen him talking to other guards or servants. When they noticed her, she often caught a fleeting, sympathetic look, and she wondered if they, too, were involved in the Resistance. Rayna's nightly talks with Coer had deepened as she trusted him more. Over time, she told him all about her home and her puphood. He in turn spoke of his own upbringing and his involvement in the rebellion.
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