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Two males stepped out of the crowd to face the king. One, Jarl Triam. The other, a mountain of a male, bearing the white wolf insignia over his breast—Lord Sten Armenil.

“I won’t allow it,” Lord Armenil shouted. “Not my daughter. Not with him. I?—”

“I thought we might hit this hitch, Sten,” Father cut the great lord off as Clawsguards closed in around Lord Armenil. “Thought you might wish for more say over which house your eldest landed in? So I’ll give you a compromise. The only one I will allow.”

Lord Armenil’s eyes narrowed. “You must’ve realized this was a poor match if you premeditated a compromise, Magnus.”

“KingMagnus,” Father growled. “And yes, it is my job to foresee outcomes. Now, would you like the chance to hear your option? Or shall I bring in a staret to perform your daughter’s ceremony right now?”

Sten Armenil’s freckle-strewn face paled. “What is the compromise?”

“I have yet to send a diplomat to the Blood Court. If you wish for a say in your daughter’s marriage, you will go. Explain what happened to their prince, and I might allow you to sway my choice.” Father held up a single finger. “Until then, she will stay with Jarl Triam.”

Lord Armenil appeared shocked and for good reason. Usually, the Crown tasked Warden Roar to deal with the vampires. In his absence, Father sent my uncle Captain Vagle. But the Warden of the North? We had never sent him into vampire territory.

He had no past with them. No rapport. No ties. It very well could be a suicide mission.

And I suspected Father knew that. My fists clenched, but as Lord Armenil spoke next, I knew the future was set.

“I’ll go,” the Warden of the North said. “But she will not stay with him. Marit is pure, and she remains with my family until they are wed.”

“During the nights only,” Father shot back. “During the day, your daughter will be with her fiancé. She may have a chaperone if you wish. Upon your return, we will speak about a different match.”

The words he didn’t say, ‘if you return,’ hung in the air.

Marit’s chest heaved as silent sobs wracked her, but her father only gave a stout nod and went to collect her.

With the matter settled; Father captured the crowd’s attention once more with that conniving grin of his. “Now, for the second match of the day . . .”

Chapter 13

NEVE

The room held its breath.

I didn’t know who Jarl Triam was, but I recognized the fear riddling Marit’s face. She reminded me of how terrified I’d felt when Prince Gervais first threatened me in Sangrael.

Back before I’d tasted freedom. Back when the only thing I had to lose was my life.

I would bet the ruby ring Roar had given me—the same one discarded in a drawer at the moment—that Jarl Triam was a threat.

Socially. Financially. On her status?

Her life? At the thought, my mouth went parchment dry.

The king prattled on about how the second match was one fated in the stars. One in which a jarl had made plain his desires for the female.

“Who am I to stand in the way of true love?” King Magnus crowed, high on his own power. To my disgust,those in the crowd clapped. Did they think the king was so charismatic? Or did they want to appease him to keep themselves safe?

“On with it,” Vale growled low enough so that no one else, save perhaps Sian standing at my husband’s other side, could hear.

Yes, hurry, you pompous windbag.

“Jarl Salizier, come forward.” The king motioned at the crowd of lesser lords hovering around him since we arrived. Though I’d seen him only once, I recognized the thin jarl with the thick blond beard and rosy cheeks who joined the king.

“And Lady Sayyida Virtoris, come forth and greet your match.” King Magnus’s tone hardened as he turned to face Sayyida, next to Saga and Lady Virtoris.

Saga blanched, and even from far away, the veins popping in Lady Virtoris’s temples stood out.