Page 2 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Two

EVIE

H undreds of curious, critical eyes watched me pretend to be overjoyed as I walked toward the improvised altar, a white arch overflowing with sacred flowers Serpents used in their spells.

My pinching shoes clicked on the white and silver marble that veined everywhere on the island, even to the guards’ outhouse. Stone paths were for lesser Clans.

Many hours away from Aquila, the ancient stronghold of the Protectorate, the Sanctua Sirena island was a glistening jewel in the ocean, with its caramel beaches, bone-white cliffs, and foamy waves. The legends said this was where the great Adriana “Dria” Vegheara herself had birthed the Protectorate.

The garden was flanked with sycamore trees and perfectly-trimmed bushes, rows upon rows of silver chairs filled with guests. Everyone who was anyone in the Protectorate and Serpent Clans had come to my wedding.

They all stood and watched .

My entire body wanted to betray me. My hands gripped the bouquet too tightly. My knees shook. Fat, bitter tears threatened to fall with each step I took on the turquoise-lined aisle. Not Serpent green, not Protectorate blue.

Turquoise . To blend the two Clans together in this beautiful, miraculous union.

This was a sham, and Fabrian and I were the main actors.

Whatever courage I had mustered up in the room slowly seeped from my skin. Thank the gods for the veil; at least nobody could see the heartache on my face.

“She looks more elegant than I expected,” a guest whispered from my left. The groom’s side. Hissing like the true Serpents they were. “Guess they washed the mountain off her before they let her back into society.”

“Anyone would look pretty draped in so many Serpent jewels, even a country bumpkin,” said another one of these lovely guests I had never met.

I didn’t bother with them. My gaze searched for the ones I did know. The three assassins back at the cabin who’d dared show their faces among the dozens of masked figures needed to defeat my powerful parents.

The short one with the scar that ran all the way from his top lip to his eyebrow, who had picked me up from the ground, kicking and screaming.

The one with the eagle tattoo on his wrist, who’d hauled me inside the carriage.

The one who was tall enough to loom, had one blue eye, the other black, who’d told me what lies to spew to my family. Or else .

My gaze swept the Serpent side three times. No trace of eyebrow scars, eagle tattoos, and no dual-colored eyes. Gold, silver, and green shined in every dress, accessory, and feathered hat that rose to the heavens.

I’d find out who those three assassins were, one way or another, and Fabrian was my closest lead to them. What I’d do after was up for debate. I wasn’t a killer–at heart or in skills.

Grandpa Constantine would be furious if he saw me like this. And so disappointed. During the five short years I’d had with him, he’d tried his best to raise me well enough to handle the responsibilities I’d been born to shoulder.

“What do you say to those Blood Brotherhood bastards if any of them have the guts to say you don’t belong on their golden throne?” he used to ask me.

“That they should be scared my grandpa will kick their asses,” I’d reply with a toothy grin.

Then grandpa Constantine would laugh in that rich baritone voice of his so hard, his white beard would tremble.

“Yes, that’s exactly what you tell them. And after I’m dead–” He’d groan as he crouched on one knee, to look me in the eyes, like I was already his equal. “–you don’t say anything . You show them you’re the best damn queen they’ve ever had and that they’re lucky to have you protecting them. Words don’t matter unless you back them up with actions. Make them fear you at first, then make them love you. You’ll sleep better and safer at night. Always remember who you are. And survive, whatever it takes. Understood?”

I’d nodded, even though I didn’t understand much of anything back then.

“Good. Now let’s get you some cake.” Grandpa Constantine had taken my small hand in his. “Don’t tell your mother I taught you to say asses. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Yet here I was, dangerously close to a Clan throne. Exactly where my parents had prayed I wouldn’t end up.

I walked as slowly as possible toward the altar, Fabrian, and the priest. One small act of defiance.

But I felt small.

I’d always kind of felt that way after I vanished with my parents, Falor, the great First Son of the Protectorate, Constantine’s heir that wanted nothing to do with the steel throne, and Mara, the best rider the Protectorate had ever seen. They said she could shoot her magicked arrows standing up on her galloping horse and not lose her seat. Formidable, both of them.

They’d raised me to be kind and honest–and afraid.

Of magic.

Of power.

Of the outside world.

They’d wanted obedience masquerading as respect.

I went from grandpa Constantine carrying me on his broad shoulders and calling me his precious princess, to thawing ice to bathe myself in the winter, and learning the basics of mathematics and reading from two parents who didn’t have the patience for a child’s curiosity and moods.

I hated it there.

“Please take me home,” I’d cried my little five-year-old heart out in that cold, barren cabin. “Grandpa Constantine gave me cake. He read with me and gave me hugs. Take me back to him!”

My father had raised his mighty eyebrows, which made him look more like grandpa Constantine than he’d ever liked to admit. “You’re not going back. Not now, not ever. Constantine can’t protect you. He can’t even protect his own home.”

“I don’t like it here.” I’d hiccupped between the tears. “I’m cold and hungry and the dark scares me. Take me back. I’ll be good, I promise. Please take me back! Please!”

My mother had sent me one of those looks that instilled the fear of old gods in me. “If you don’t stop crying, I’ll send you to get the firewood at night. For a whole month.”

I shut up after that. I hated going outside at night; the forest groaned loudest after sunset, as if something waited to clamp its jaws around my neck. My parents knew I was afraid of the dark, too–a terror that had followed me to this day–that’s why they used to threaten me with it.

Fear was their most effective weapon and they used it each chance they got.

Fabrian was using it today, too. But he’d stumbled upon another great weapon against me. Guilt.

That I would make another wrong move, one more mistake, and I’d lose people I loved.

Again.

Allie was right. Fabrian was truly a beast.

Even dressed in his finest emerald green suit, with those damn snakeskin lapels, he stood in front of the altar and the many elaborate vases surrounding it, to signify abundance in our new lives. His squinted, rheumy eyes were mean, with too much cruelty behind them. But his vices were catching up, he already had the kind of pallor reserved for men who were lucky enough to see their fiftieth year.

Hopefully, he wouldn’t live that long.

A life with him would be nothing short of tragic. But if I had to crawl my way to the altar, I would.

I hadn’t done much with my short life, but I’d accomplish this, even if it would probably kill me. My mother had always said my Vegheara blood made me too stubborn for my own good. She was right. I was going to use all that bullheadedness for the one thing that mattered in my life.

My family.

A dreadful image flashed in my brain.

My parents’ eyes staring accusingly at me. As if they were trying to warn me beyond the grave.

It took every ounce of self control I had to not freeze and keep walking.

I couldn’t think about my parents or my terrible mistake that got them killed. I had to make sure I wouldn’t repeat it.

Allie stood next to the altar, my official representative. She stared daggers at Fabrian as only someone who’d grown up Clan could.

Clan life meant violence. Strength. Cunning. Everything I was not. It had taken me half a day to realize my cousins had been talking about the latest assassination and not a guy named Pierce. Who pierces an eyeball to kill someone, anyway?

“She seems a bit dull for a Clan heiress, don’t you think?” another voice mumbled. “Something about that hair...”

My mother’s cruel jokes whispered in my ear. About how they’d squirelled me away from everyone because my hair was a dull shade of chestnut.

The only hope I had right now was that Fabrian wouldn’t be as awful as The Dragon. Everyone feared the crown prince of the Blood Brotherhood for a reason, after all.

“Yes, quite plain. And so…small,” another voice chimed in, not even bothering to whisper this time.

The rest of my cousins stood on the Protectorate side of the garden, next to my uncle Alaric, the current leader of the Clan. He’d welcomed me back with open arms and too many meals, as if he could undo the years of starvation. He had a good heart, my uncle.

Perhaps too good for leading a Clan, a part of me whispered. The part grandpa Constantine had raised.

I clenched my jaw. I was in no position to judge anyone.

My cousins stood tall and proud, radiating power, the pride of the Protectorate first family. There was less than a year difference between us, but they looked so much more experienced and stronger. Grandpa Constantine had told his sons he wanted grandbabies and heirs, and they’d delivered.

Allie had come first, in the spring, a new hope for the Clan. I had joined her in the summer, after a torturous labor of fourteen hours, as my mother used to remind me.

Daxon “Dax” and Damara “Dara” were the first to give me their blessings, as was tradition. Their birth had surprised everyone in the fall and they’d quickly plumped up on the copious crops. With their bronze skin and long, dark hair, they looked almost identical; but their eyes gave them away. Dax had a shade of blue that could make the waves of Marea Luminara jealous, while Dara had been blessed with gray ones. When I was little, people used to say he’d stolen all the color in the clear sky, leaving her with the light.

Dax pulled me into a cautious hug, whispering in my ear. “If you’re having second thoughts, I can get him right after the ceremony, dagger to the heart. I know of ways to make someone disappear that you can’t even imagine.”

That’s why he was the best-kept secret in the Protectorate and proud of it.

I patted him on the back and laughed awkwardly, before Dara circled her arms around me.

“Uncle Maksim and I left a boat in the grotto,” she muttered in that calm, measured way of hers. “I have a little exploding rune, I can distract everyone while you run.”

Clarissa “Clara” was the last to embrace me, her many golden bracelets clinking. The youngest, she’d come as a miracle at the end of winter. Her midwife used to say her golden hair was a blessing, to bring the sun in the harsh, cold months. “I’ll negotiate the absolute best divorce in Clan history for you. You say the word and I’m there with my pen.”

My cousins truly were gems. I wouldn’t let Fabrian extinguish their shine.

I reluctantly left their embrace and stepped in front of the altar, biting my tongue until I tasted blood. The priest was the most gilded of all, his saintly hat rising at least three feet in the air. Fabrian gave me a rehearsed, jagged smile that didn’t reach his cold eyes. The calculated gaze of a Clan heir who had sacrificed his own brothers to reach the throne, according to the whispers around Aquila. A shiver sprinted down my spine and I struggled to breathe.

You can do this.

Could I?

I chanced one last look at the crowd. My gaze lingered on my cousins. None of them smiled, concern shadowing their steely gazes.

They would have found another way to keep the family safe and not marry a brute. None of them would have stood here, tears pricking their eyes, trying not to tremble. They were the true heirs of the Protectorate, some of the most dangerous and skilled people in all of Malhaven. How had Fabrian found me before they could? The question would haunt me to my grave.

The priest cleared his throat and the big book hovering in front of him opened on its own.

“The moon and stars have been kind enough to bless us with a union today,” he began, his nasally voice magicked to be amplified in the entire castle garden, drowning out the enchanted harps. “Between two heirs deserving of their titles. Fabrian, the scion of the Bazin family and the Serpents’ hope of a better, more prosperous future–”

I grimaced behind my opaque veil. How much more prosperous could they get? Fabrian wore a snake amulet made of pure diamonds around his neck.

“–and the Protectorate’s Lost Daughter, who was mercifully returned to her family,” the priest went on, voice booming.

Another small piece of me died.

Mercy wasn’t in the stars. Not today, and certainly not for me.

My heart threatened to beat itself out of my chest. I took a deep, centering breath that did nothing to calm me down.

Then I made the mistake of gripping my gorgeous bouquet of plump, odorless flowers–everything had to look good, not be good today–as if I could wring some courage from the wilting stems.

Allie’s strained half-smile fell as her unrelenting gaze swept over me, from my white-knuckled grip on the bouquet, to the slump in my shoulders. I righted myself instantly, but she’d already seen enough.

“Should anyone oppose this union,” the priest went on, oblivious. “Then–”

Allie moved quickly. Before I knew it, her fingers touched the pulse point at my neck. I jerked back, but that one touch was enough to reveal the truth. My lies couldn’t hide the way my pulse roared.

Triumph shined in her darkening gaze.

“I knew it,” she whispered.

I licked my lips, tasting the sickly sweet rouge painted on them. “It’s just wedding jitters.”

Please believe me. Please let this go.

Fabrian scoffed. “Leave it to The Huntress to cause a scene.”

A sharp look from Allegra shut him up. Then her almighty gaze fell on me again. I wanted to shrivel.

“Stop this,” I said with all the courage I didn’t feel. Whispers erupted in the crowd.

Allegra still wouldn’t budge.

“ You stop this,” she said. “What’s going–”

The whispers were replaced with frightened gasps. Allie’s face fell as she looked behind us. That troubled me more than anything.

I followed the guests’ panicked gazes to the end of the aisle.

I froze.

“Gods help us,” Allie whispered.

Nobody could help us now.

Because standing at the end of the aisle, in all their fearsome glory, were the most dangerous fighters in all of Malhaven. Dressed in their black leather uniforms, dozens of them grimaced at us, armed to the teeth with golden weapons.

My knees trembled. The rumors were true–they did have blood in their weapon hilts, swirling around in their transparents prisons as if asking for more sacrifices.

The Blood Brotherhood had come. The only other Clan aside from the Protectorate that had weathered centuries, invasions, and wars, and had turned out stronger for it.

Everyone around me, all these ferocious, powerful Clan members who nobody dared to even look at the wrong way, sat petrified.

Leading the fighters was the man my parents had tried to keep me hidden from my entire life.

The man I was destined to marry in the first place.

The vicious heir to the Blood Brotherhood Clan.

The pride of the Rohen Dynasty.

The crown prince known as The Dragon.

He’d found me.