by Skye Horn
“I am not here to judge you,” Kieran said, trying to keep his voice level. “I am here to offer an alliance on behalf of the Kingdom of Grimwalde, and to warn you that Morrigan has been released from her imprisonment.”
“I had heard rumors of that,” Queen Ismara said as she sat back onto her throne, tapping her fingernails against its arms. Her blond curls hung past her shoulders beneath a large golden crown lined with enough emeralds and rubies to feed at least four families for a fortnight. There was a silvery tone that glistened within her curls where age and the strain of leadership had kissed the silky tendrils of her hair, but there were no other telltale signs of age. The Fae aged more graciously and lived longer than the average human, so any sign of aging at all was surprising to Kieran. King Aragon was ancient, and therefore the signs of age lined the corners of his eyes and hallowed cheeks, but that had taken nearly two centuries according to his stories. “Would you like to explain to me how exactly the Goddess of Death was released from her prison?”
Kieran could hear Amara’s heart racing as she shifted from one foot to another. The queen’s gaze had found his cousin’s once more, but Kieran was the one who answered.
“Malachi used Princess Thea’s blood to open a doorway, much like the Threshold, to the prison realm. We could not stop it once the spell was cast.”
“You were there?” she asked him with a surprised arch of her eyebrow.
“Yes, milady.” He lowered his eyes to hide the shame that filled them. “I failed to stop Malachi in time.”
He prayed she would not ask more questions and was thankful when she said, “Well, there is nothing we can do about that now. Grimwalde and Ivandor are aligned, are they not?”
“Yes, of course,” Kieran said, tilting his head in confusion. “King Aragon is the great-godfather of Princess Thea. The two kingdoms have stood side by side for centuries.”
Kieran knew that Ismara, being much older than himself, knew this information, so he didn’t understand why she asked the question.
“Then we too shall be allies soon. I have requested an audience with Princess Thea here in Gimmerwich. I expect I will be receiving news from her High Council of her agreement to the journey soon. It would be unwise of her to refuse, after all.”
The words settled over Kieran like he’d plummeted into Lake Wysteria in the dead of winter. Thea was coming here to Gimmerwich, but why? To meet the queen? To form an alliance, as she said? Was it mere coincidence that she was coming while he was here? His mind was racing.
“W-why have you invited my sister here?” Amara asked with extreme caution. Kieran knew that she was trying to distract Queen Ismara from the complete meltdown he was about to have. It was his job to protect her, not the other way around. He tried to rein in his emotions and questions as quickly as possible, and if Amara’s sudden question surprised the queen, she masked it well.
“She is coming to meet my nephew, Declan,” the Queen said. “We hope to unite our kingdoms with their marriage.”
And just like that, Kieran’s world shattered.
Chapter 4
Ethel wasn’t in the bedroom when Thea arrived, forcing her to decide which outfits to pack on her own. She didn’t intend to wear the lung-crushing dress on her journey to Gimmerwich, so she attempted to undress without assistance, tumbling backwards onto the bed when she tried to reach behind herself to untie the corset. Even though she’d had wings for six months, she still felt uncoordinated trying to perform her normal daily activities. Thankfully, after about fifteen minutes of struggling, Ethel returned to find Thea stuck in her half-unlaced corset, panting as she twisted and attempted to reach the knot she’d pulled the strings into. Her face was red with embarrassment as Ethel’s eyes went wide, taking in Thea’s unique position.
“Shut the door,” Thea whimpered in horror as she glimpsed Mica laughing from the corridor beyond. “But tell him not to go anywhere.”
Ethel tried to hide her giggle as she clicked the bedroom door shut and walked over to help Thea.
“Can’t… Breathe…” Thea panted as Ethel’s small fingers untangled the knotted laces. She tsked as she worked, murmuring questions about how in the world Thea would ever survive without her.
“Well, I wouldn’t wear death-traps,” Thea complained, rubbing her bruised ribs as Ethel freed her from the awful dress. “Thank the Goddess you showed up when you did though. You might’ve found me unconscious in my own damn bedroom.”
Ethel laughed, tossing the dress onto the bed. It crumpled into a lifeless clump, but Thea swore the dress had it out for her and eyed it warily.
“Where are we going?” Ethel asked, noticing the bag Thea had laid out on the other side of the bed.
“We’re going to Gimmerwich,” Thea replied as Ethel handed her the pants she’d taken out for her journey. She pulled them on, enjoying the feel of the worn leather against her bare skin. It was far better than the itchy lace that lined the underneath of most of her dresses.
“We?” Ethel confirmed excitedly.
“Yes,” Thea mumbled against the silky soft tunic as she tugged it over her head and wings. She grinned when she tucked her wings through the custom slits in the back of the shirt on the first try. “You, me, and Mica, plus whichever guards the council picks to accompany us.”
Thea tucked the bottom of the tunic into the top of her unbuttoned pants as Ethel’s face lit up. She held out a corset-style waistcoat for Thea to slip her arms through. Thankfully, this one laced up the front so she at least didn’t have to fear never being able to get it off. The fabric sat beneath her wings and breasts, pushing them up into uncomfortable pillows on her chest as Ethel laced it up.
“What’s in Gimmerwich?” Ethel asked as Thea sucked in a last breath, fighting the urge to snap at Ethel about needing air to survive. It only took her a minute to have the waistcoat in place, and Thea couldn’t deny that it accented her curves in a more comfortable way than any dress would. She reached out to grab her worn-down leather boots and sat on the edge of the bed to pull them on. They were the most comfortable piece of clothing that Thea owned, and she’d actually preferred them over the tennis shoes she’d missed so much from her prior wardrobe. She especially liked the leather pocket that concealed her dagger inside, knowing it meant she’d never be without a weapon again.
“A marriage proposal,” she tried to say as naturally as possible, but Ethel dropped the brush she’d just picked up from Thea’s vanity with a loud clang as its handle hit the floor.
“A what?!” she demanded, crossing her arms over her chest and abandoning the brush.
“The council has deemed it necessary for me to have a husband to rule my kingdom with,” Thea said with the mock pretentiousness of her council members. She rolled her eyes, tying the tops of her boots and going to pull her hair out of the braids that Ethel had created atop her head earlier in the day. Ethel recovered, picking the brush up from the floor, and frowned. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on actually marrying anyone.”
“Then why are we going?” Ethel asked, confused.
Thea hesitated. She knew she could trust Ethel with the truth, but she wondered if Ethel would think it was wrong to chase after Kieran when he’d shown that he wanted nothing to do with her any longer. No matter what she wanted to tell Ethel, it was clear by the look on her face that Thea was not getting out of this conversation.
“Mica says Kieran is in Gimmerwich,” Thea said, watching Ethel’s reaction. At first, there was a look of confusion, but then understanding dawned on her face. Thea continued to speak before Ethel could say whatever was on her mind. “I realize if he wanted to see me he would have, but I need to talk to him.”
“I think it’s a wonderful idea,” Ethel said, surprising Thea. “He shouldn’t have done what he did to you, and you deserve closure.”
Ethel brushed out the remaining braids in Thea’s hair as she stared at her in astonishment. Closure—that was what Ethel thought Thea was looking for, and she supposed she
might be. She’d spent the past six months wondering what she’d done wrong, how he could leave her, and why she couldn’t get over him. She needed answers more than anything if she wanted to move on with her life.
“However, I don’t think the council will be happy when they find out you lied to them.”
“Well, I will just say I don’t like this nephew of the queen,” Thea said and yelped as the brush caught a knot in her hair. “Ouch!”
“Your marriage proposal is from Declan?!” Ethel said with wide eyes, blushing with embarrassment as she tried to unlatch the brush from Thea’s now-tangled hair.
“I don’t know his name,” Thea said, rubbing her aching head with a frown. “I just know he is Queen Ismara’s nephew.”
“Oh my Goddess.” Ethel appeared to have turned into what Thea might have called in her old life a “fan-girl.” Her cheeks tinted from an innocent pink to wine red as she continued to talk. “He is supposed to be so handsome…”
Thea rolled her eyes at yet another mention of this stranger’s good looks and took the brush from Ethel so she could brush her own hair without tearing it from its roots.
“I mean, that’s what all the girls in the village say, at least,” Ethel giggled, falling back on the bed. Thea had never seen her act like such a teenage girl before; it was actually entertaining.
“And how would all these girls in the village know so much about him?” Thea asked as she began braiding her hair to the side. “Gimmerwich’s wards have only been down for six months.”
“Oh,” Ethel blushed again, sitting up and hugging one of Thea’s pillows to her chest. “Well, I’ve heard he’s been, well, you know…” Her voice faded off.
“Ah, so he’s a player,” Thea laughed and Ethel’s eyebrows shot up.
“A what?”
“It means he’s been with quite a few girls.”
“I’ve never heard such a word, but I suppose so, yes.”
Thea nodded her head and set the brush down, content with the long red braid that hung over her right shoulder. Ethel came over and tucked wildflowers into it with a smile. She loved to decorate Thea’s hair, no matter how simply, and Thea didn’t mind a little floral flair. It made her feel more feminine without having to wear the uncomfortable outfits.
“I can’t believe you’re going to marry Declan of Gimmerwich,” Ethel said dreamily.
“I’m not,” Thea replied, elbowing Ethel’s side to knock her out of whatever love story she was spinning for Thea in her mind. “I’m just going to meet him and tell the council we don’t get along. If he’s so popular with the girls, then I’m sure he won’t be heartbroken by my rejection.”
Thea didn’t really care if Declan was a player or a virgin; it wasn’t her place to judge him. All she cared about was that she didn’t have to marry him because she was not about to hand her kingdom over to a stranger just because their councils said it was best.
“Oh, it’s really tragic though. I’ve heard rumors that he doesn’t believe in love because of how his parents died,” Ethel said, deciding to lay back on Thea’s bed with her pillow clutched to her chest. Thea wanted to laugh at the girl but didn’t want to hurt her feelings.
“Oh?” Thea asked, trying to hide the curiosity that story had sparked. She couldn’t help wanting to know more about this Fae celebrity.
“His parents were soulmates,” Ethel explained excitedly, as if this was not someone’s life story she was telling. “His father died during a rising rebellion, and his mother never recovered from it. She withered away and died a few years later. Tragic, really. I’ve heard he thinks soulmates are the worst kind of love.”
Ethel sighed, her eyelashes batting against her lower lids, but Thea rose to stuff a few more pairs of pants into her bag, then folded up a dress to meet the Queen in at the last minute.
“It sounds like he and I might actually get along then,” Thea mused, thinking of her own experiences with having a soulmate. Sometimes she wished she could just make that part of her disappear forever. It would mean she could move on, at least. But other times, she hated herself for ever feeling that way. Tragic.
Ethel watched her with a saddened gaze, realizing where her thoughts had traveled to and then helped by packing another dress into her bag, because apparently, Thea hadn’t brought enough. When they finished packing and the silence grew uncomfortable, Thea opened the bedroom door to find Mica still leaning against the wall outside.
“I was thinking you were never coming out,” he said with a fake yawn. “What’s going on?”
“I just wanted to test your patience,” Thea teased, leaning against the door frame. “What would you say to being a guard on my trip to Gimmerwich?”
His eyes widened in surprise.
“How in the world did you convince them to let you go? AND how did you convince them to let you take me?” He looked at her with complete amazement.
“That is a very long story, which I can tell you on the way. Right now, I think you need to go pack and then meet me in the courtyard at noon.”
Mica nodded his head with enthusiasm, cast one last look at Ethel, who stood smiling behind Thea, and disappeared down the hall.
“Ethel, you should pack too. I’m going for a walk in the gardens anyway,” she said.
Walking through the gardens had become a daily routine since Faylon’s death. She missed their conversations almost more than anything else that had changed. It still left a deep ache every time she thought of him, but taking a daily stroll around the place where they’d laid him to rest helped her heal. At first, Thea had found it difficult to accept that Faylon had given up his life to save Kieran, but no matter what, she was grateful for his sacrifice. She didn’t know if she would have survived Kieran’s death; she was barely surviving him being alive.
Ethel hugged Thea, knowing she didn’t like company on her garden walks, and nodded her head.
“I’ll meet you in the courtyard at noon,” Ethel said. “Thank you for letting me come with you.”
Thea smiled one of her rare, genuine smiles, because Ethel was one of the few people who could get it out of her anymore. It had been a long six months, but she had made it more bearable, more survivable. She’d been a friend and a sister to Thea, getting her through one of the most arduous times of her entire life. That was something Thea would never forget.
“It’s not like I could meet a prospective husband without you,” Thea said teasingly, but she knew Ethel understood how much she needed her company. “Plus, I thought you’d enjoy the time with Mica.”
The blaze of red that heated Ethel’s cheeks was enough to confirm any doubts Thea had about her feelings.
“How did you…” Ethel eyes darted around for eavesdroppers.
“Know you have a crush on him? Call it a woman’s intuition,” Thea said with a slight grin. “Just don’t jump into things. Get to know him first. Find out if you can even stand being around him.”
Thea felt like her own mother giving her advice on her first crush. It made her stomach ache. Each day without the mother who’d raised her was harder than the last. Sometimes, Thea felt as if she were forgetting the sound of her mother’s voice or the exact color of her eyes. She wished she could hear her advice just one more time or stay in one of her comforting hugs for just a few seconds again, but that would never be possible. The ache of losing her parents would remain with her forever.
She swallowed the tears, blinking away the sting, and said, “Go on. I’ll be okay.”
Ethel cast a last glance at Thea before she disappeared into the corridor and headed for her own bed chamber.
Thea strapped on her weapons baldric, slipping the sword Kieran had left behind for her into its sheath, and tucked a dagger into her boot and another into her belt. Having weapons made her feel more prepared, but the dresses she wore didn’t allow her to carry many. Thea tugged her heavy bag over her shoulder, cursing at the extra weight of the added dresses, and blew out the candles that lit the room.
&nb
sp; A long journey awaited Thea, a journey that included seeing the man who’d shattered her world and rejecting a man who likely wanted nothing to do with her. She laughed, shaking her head as she shut the door and headed for the gardens to chat with her lost friend about the insanity she’d gotten herself into.
“Kieran!” Someone was screaming at him, multiple someones, but his entire body was rigid. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but he now stood pinned against the stone wall by four soldiers. If it weren’t for how furious he felt, he would have laughed at the fact that it took four Fae to hold him down.
Amara was shouting at him from across the room. She was not being held by soldiers, although as they entered the throne room they’d watched her with suspicion.
“Please, don’t hurt him!” she pleaded, probably with the queen whom, if Kieran’s throbbing head remembered correctly, he’d just attempted to attack. “He can’t control it.”
Why was that? Why couldn’t he control his body? His arms thrashed out and his wings ached for freedom. He wanted nothing more than to flee this castle, but his idiotic self had lunged at Queen Ismara instead. He hadn’t meant to hurt her—he didn’t think—and yet, here he was thrashing against her guards like a rabid animal. Why?
Marriage, the word clawed at his insides like talons. It was like he no longer had blood in his veins, but shattered glass. She’s getting married.
He didn’t know how long he’d spent backed against that wall, but he suddenly lost all strength in his legs, slumped to the floor and fought the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. The soldiers stared at him in utter confusion, but he didn’t care that they saw him broken. Why should he care about anything anymore when the one person who made it all matter was about to belong to someone else?
I’ll never belong to anyone, he heard her say in his head, but now the sound of her voice only brought back the waves of agony. He wanted to shut her up, to cast her out, to never think of her again.