by Bec McMaster
“Any wedding officiated by a priestess of Maia is legitimate,” Maren murmurs slowly. Her attention focuses on Iskvien. “Unless the princess can claim she was coerced.”
“No.” Iskvien stares them all down, including her mother. “There was no coercion. I married him of my own free will.” This time when she turns to her mother, there’s a growing confidence within her. “I married him because I wanted to. I married him because I wanted peace between our two countries, peace for the alliance. And I married him because… because I think I could come to love him.”
I never dared wish for such a thing. Love. It’s only been three days, but the suggestion knots hard around my own heart.
Vi turns to Maren. “My apologies for the deception, Your Majesty, but if there was ever coercion involved, it was in forcing me to sign that contract. My mother threatened to kill someone if I did not do so. I never wished to deceive you.”
“Enough of this nonsense,” Adaia snaps. “Come here.”
Like she’s talking to a dog.
“No.” Vi stares her down. “I have made my decision. We are married and the marriage is consummated. It is too late to deny it.”
“You had no right.” Adaia shakes with fury as she glares at me. “She is mine and you have stolen what is mine. There will be no peace. None. I will not—”
“You have no cause to deny the marriage,” Maren cuts in. “It is done, Adaia. Done.”
The two queens stare at each other.
“Then I will have recompense,” Adaia snaps.
“You have the disputed territories in Mistmere,” Lucidia points out. “What more could you wish?”
“My daughter.” Adaia turns all her fury upon Vi. “He has stolen my daughter. He has turned her against me—”
“He never turned me against you,” Vi bursts out, as if she’s unable to hold her frustration within her. “You did that yourself.”
“See!” Adaia gestures toward her as she begs the other queens. “In three mere days my beloved child has gone from being content and happy in my arms, to being defiant and disobedient. You’ve all seen her before. You’ve all met her. She’s changed! He’s ensorcelled her.”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort.”
But Maren looks thoughtful and Lucidia reaches out to accept a glass of wine from the tray her granddaughter—Lucere—provides.
“It is not enough to offer me mere lands,” Adaia seethes. “Is Mistmere meant to comfort me on those nights when my child is gone from my arms?”
“It didn’t seem to bother you when you were selling me to Etan,” Vi grinds out between her teeth.
I lace a hand over hers. “You grow greedy, Adaia. I would have thought you longed for peace.”
Adaia’s eyes glitter with malice.
Peace has never been an option between us. The only thing that will ever appease her will be my head on a stake.
“Prince Thiago speaks the truth,” Kyrian murmurs, finally speaking up from where he lounges with insolent grace, swinging his crown around his finger. “The Alliance has long wished for peace between all our kingdoms. Perhaps this marriage will cement such a notion. Perhaps it is necessary.”
“But Adaia also speaks truly,” Maren murmurs, “Iskvien is her daughter. Is she to lose her daughter from her side forever? If Iskvien was to marry into my court then Adaia would be free to visit her, and Iskvien allowed to return to her mother’s court for important gatherings. One marriage is not the same as the other. It seems cruel to lose a child you love so dearly.”
Vi tenses as if she wishes to retort, but I squeeze her hand. “I would never deny my wife if she wished to return to her mother’s court for such gatherings. It would be her choice.”
When the Underworld turns to flames, says the stubborn jut of Vi’s chin.
Kato’s realm is as cold, barren and lifeless as the tundra in the far north.
Adaia sinks onto her throne. “Whether the marriage is consummated or not, you went behind my back to steal my daughter. You married her in secret. You stole her from me. And regardless of your fucking offer to allow her to return at whim, I find I care little for such assurances. You lie as well as you breathe, Evernight. So I will offer you a little bargain, if you dare….”
Don’t trust her, whispers the Darkness within me.
For once it seems to be working in alignment with me.
I don’t, I tell it.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“I fear Iskvien has made a foolish bargain over the course of a mere three days,” she replies. “I would hate for her to regret such impulsiveness. You may have her. For three months of the year, one for every day she has known you. As spring beckons you will return her to me for the rest of the year.”
“Absolutely not.”
She leans forward, a serpent about to strike. “You say you haven’t ensorcelled her? Then prove it. Nine months at my side is long enough to break any enchantment, and we shall know the truth. If she chooses to return to you at the next queensmoot, then I will believe her heart is true.”
“You say you don’t trust me? Then the reverse is also true. If I give her back to you, then I fear I will never see her again,” I counter.
“I will swear such a thing before the alliance,” Adaia replies coldly.
There has to be some trick to it. But I can’t see it. “You will not use your magic to deny her the ability to say she loves me. You will not turn her heart to ice. You will not kill her, or harm her, or allow anyone else to do so either.”
Adaia curls her lip. “I don’t need to, little princeling. She barely knows you. Once she realizes what kind of monster she’s tied herself to, then she’ll come crawling back to me.”
I don’t know why cold panic grips me. “One year is not enough.”
The smile that spreads across her face shows no mercy. “Your doubt reveals your intentions—”
“As I said, I don’t trust you at all. Fifty years.”
“Three.”
“Forty.”
“Four.”
At my side I sense Vi tensing.
“Thirty-five.”
“Five.”
“That’s enough,” Vi gasps. “Enough! Do I not have any say in this?”
“Forgive me.” I’ve been alone for so long that making such decisions by myself is instinct.
Or maybe it’s just instinct to start firing back the second Adaia opens her mouth.
But if I keep doing that, then Vi is going to be the one caught in the middle.
“Thirteen,” says Lucidia, her voice cracking through the tension like a whip.
“What?” For once, both Adaia and I echo each other.
“An auspicious number,” Lucidia continues. “You will have thirteen years to win her heart, Prince Thiago. Every winter, you will have her for your own. Every spring, you will return her to her mother for nine months.” Those gimlet eyes turn to Adaia. “And likewise. The disputed territories in Mistmere will be held in trust by the alliance. By the time the thirteenth queensmoot arrives, the princess must make her final choice. She must choose to stay with her mother, or to fully accept her role as the Prince of Evernight’s wife. Whoever wins will take both the girl and the territories.”
“That is not what he said yesterday,” Adaia spits, on her feet once again and furious. “He gave them to me.”
“And you said they weren’t enough,” Lucidia counters, “not when it came to your daughter’s heart, though I find it interesting you didn’t bother to mention Iskvien, just now. Is that what you want, Adaia? He’s offered you Mistmere in exchange for her hand. Just say the word, and those lands are yours.”
Fury blights those almond-shaped green eyes. Our stares meet, and my thumb, casually stroking Vi’s hand, goes still.
Say it. Agree to it.
Take the fucking lands.
But perhaps she sees my eagerness.
“Thirteen years then,” Adaia whispers. “Thirteen years before Iskvien
must make her final choice. But if you lose, then I will take your life too. For the audacity in daring to touch my daughter.”
“I’m not going to lose.” I have to trust in fate. I have to trust in Vi.
“Then swear it,” she hisses. “Swear it thrice, or I am done with this entire mockery of a treaty. Or do you not trust her love?”
“I swear it,” I snap. “I swear it once, twice, thrice.”
Vi gasps. “No!”
I squeeze her hand. “I trust you. I trust what we have. You will never choose her. I know that.”
She swallows. “It’s not me that I don’t trust.”
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. It doesn’t matter what Adaia does; she can’t destroy the promise of what we have.
“So be it.” Adaia draws herself to her full height, smiling darkly. “Enjoy the next three months, my darling daughter. I shall see you again come the spring.”
And then she turns and stalks from the Hallow, taking all of the oxygen with her.
“What in the Underworld were you thinking?” Thalia demands, the second we’re safely in my council chambers inside the castle of Ceres.
She hasn’t dared raise her voice before then.
Too many ears who didn’t need to hear this argument.
“I was thinking that I would have her despite the costs,” I snap. “Adaia wasn’t going to back down.”
“You offered your life,” Thalia growls out. “You played directly into that bitch’s hands.”
It’s Vi who comes to the rescue.
“His life is safe,” she says into the ringing echo within the chamber. “I will never choose my mother. I swear it.”
“She’ll try to turn you against me,” I warn. “She has nine months every year to do so.”
Vi’s smile is tremulous. “She can try. She’s spent my entire life trying to mold me to her whims.” A stubborn expression comes into her eyes. One that promises trouble for me, if I ever try to stand against her. “She didn’t succeed then and she won’t succeed now.” She takes my hands in hers. “Thank you. You don’t understand what it means to have someone fight for me like that.”
“Always.” I capture her mouth in a swift kiss.
We’re home. We’re safe.
I want to show her my world. I want to take her into my city and let her explore. But first, I want to pick her up, throw her over my shoulder and carry her off to our chambers.
Someone clears a throat.
“As lovely as it is to see you so happy,” Finn says, “it’s starting to get a little awkward for the rest of us.”
I make a rude gesture in his general direction and then finally break the kiss. “Get used to it. Nothing is going to change—”
“For the next three months,” Eris says.
She’s sharpening a knife in the corner, her entire focus locked upon the blade.
As silence reigns, she looks up. “What?”
Sometimes I wish she didn’t have to be so fucking honest.
“Then we have three months.” Vi bites her lip and then offers me a shy smile. “I don’t want to waste another moment on worrying about my mother. I want to see your city. I want to meet your people. I want to… be your wife.”
There’s a blush to her cheeks at those last words.
Gods, even now she sees the good in the moment. I squeeze her hand.
“Thalia, you’re in charge of my city,” I tell her, making a sudden decision.
“I am?” My cousin’s eyebrows shoot up.
“You are.” I take a backwards step toward the door. “Don’t burn it down. Don’t blow it up. And don’t let your demi-fey take over the keep. Finn, you’re in charge of helping Eris get that stick out of her ass.”
“Me?” Finn holds his hands out. “Why are you throwing me to the wolves?”
Eris gives me a long, slow, unamused look.
“Where are you going?” Lysander looks intrigued.
“My wife and I are going to take a honeymoon,” I tell them all. “I want to forget about murderous queens and broken alliances. I don’t want to even hear a single murmur about politics. I am taking Vi to Valerian, where the only thing that might bother us is the wraiths.”
“You’re going to freeze your ass off,” Baylor mutters.
Vi clears her throat. “I don’t have very much magic, but if there’s one thing I am good at, it’s setting things on fire.”
I wink at him. “There. You see. Toasty warm.” I give her a considering look. “You set things on fire?”
“Long story.” Vi’s face closes over. “Maybe I’ll tell you about it when those nights are cold.”
“I’m fairly certain no stories will get a chance to be told,” Thalia says, as she shoos us toward the door. “Go. Have fun. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Well, that limits the options,” Baylor says.
“Ha, ha, you’re so amusing.” She scrunches up a piece of paper and throws it at him. “Don’t make me put you on guard duty for the next fortnight. You heard him. I’m in charge.”
“Maia save our souls,” Lysander says mournfully, looking toward the sky as if he’s praying directly to the goddess.
There’s a shy smile on Vi’s face as she takes them all in.
This. This is what I wanted to show her. This is what I want her to be a part of.
But in the meantime….
“Are you coming?” I ask, offering her my hand.
“Maybe soon,” she whispers, with a teasing twinkle in her eye as she accepts my hand.
We haven’t been alone since I won the right to have her.
“Definitely soon,” I promise, as I draw her through the door and kiss her in the hallway outside.
Epilogue
One year later….
It’s been eight months, twenty-nine days and seventeen hours since I last saw my wife.
I feel every single one of those days as I stand in the Hallow at Hammerdale and wait for Adaia to arrive with my wife.
“She’s coming,” Thalia murmurs, laying a sympathetic hand on my arm. “Stop pacing. Maren is watching.”
“It’s nearly evening.” They should have been here by now. I can’t help thinking that Adaia has one last trick up her sleeve, and this delay only tightens my nerves.
The last time I saw Vi she told me that she loved me.
Those words were hard-won by months of sweet kisses and quiet conversations, but also by the growing feelings within me. I’ve always carried her in my heart as a sign of hope, but I never realized that having her would be more than mere fate. I fell in love with her over those months, and in the end, I was the one who said it first.
They were the very last words she spoke to me.
“Relax, Your Highness,” Lucidia says, laughing under her breath. “You will have your wife by your side soon enough. Adaia cannot thwart the entire alliance.”
Maren says nothing.
That only makes me feel more uncomfortable.
The Hallow starts to pulse with light. Bells ring as the servants who rope off the Hallow cry the bells in order to alert anyone within the vicinity—the portals can be dangerous magic. Fae who have been caught within the stones when someone ignites the portals have disappeared in the past.
“Here they come,” Finn says, clapping a hand on my shoulder.
Light blazes and a shadowy party appears in the center of the Hallow. The bannerman comes first, the red pennant of Asturia snapping straight in the wind, revealing those mocking roses and the crown of thorns. Servants pour through the stones. And then the lords and ladies of Asturia, and finally, finally, the queen and her royal family.
Edain stalks out first, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword as the Asturian guards spread out. There’s something in his eyes as our stares meet—I don’t know what to name it. Pity, perhaps. Or maybe disdain. He’s hard to read.
The crown princess alights at his side, but I barely bother to give her a glance.
Because
Vi is there.
One hand tucked in her mother’s arm as if she’s old and infirm…. Or no, it looks almost like Adaia has one hand shackled around her wrist.
“Vi.” I can’t take my eyes off her, letting my gaze run hungrily over her.
I can’t see any sign of bruising, but there’s no smile on her face. Only dark circles beneath her eyes, and the same starburst gown she wore the first time we met.
I start toward her, but Eris plants a hand in the center of my chest. “Wait.”
“I’ve waited long enough.”
“Then look at her,” my general snaps. “There’s something wrong. That doesn’t look like Vi anymore. Adaia’s done something to her.”
My heart starts to sink like a lead weight. No. Adaia promised she wouldn’t harm her. She swore she wouldn’t threaten her or punish her in any way….
“Vi.” I push past Eris’s restraining grip, intent on only one thing: taking my wife in my arms and ensuring Adaia hasn’t hurt her.
“Mother.” Vi’s face pales and she curls her fingers into her fist as she turns to her mother imploringly. “Please. Please don’t do this—”
“That’s enough.” Adaia jerks her arm out of Vi’s reach, her lip curling. “You will do your country proud. You will sacrifice yourself as tribute to keep the peace.” Her smile turns sinister. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Peace?”
The words are a blow.
I slam to a halt, barely feet away from my wife.
But she’s not looking at me the way she always has.
Vi’s shoulders straighten and she clearly forces herself to meet my stare, but nothing has changed. She looks as if she’s steeling herself.
She looks at me as if I’m a monster.
What in the Underworld has Adaia done to her?
“Yes,” she whispers, and swallows hard. “I… I want peace.”
“Vi?” I don’t understand. There’s no spell that could have hardened her heart against me. Adaia swore she wouldn’t turn her heart to ice. She swore.