Page 62 of A Crown of Tears and Treason (The Curse of Silver Secrets and Cruel Shadows #1)

Chapter

Sixty-Two

EVIE

I didn’t want to believe it.

Not when Banu and Valuta smiled at me victoriously.

Not when the king and queen themselves frowned at the assembly, as if something had gone very, very wrong.

Not even when my frightened eyes found Zandyr’s and he skewered–absolutely skewered–me with nothing but cold determination in his stare.

The first time I’d met her, I thought Kaya was the most beautiful woman on the continent. Standing there at the altar, dressed in the red wedding gown Leesa probably had expected for me, she looked magnificent, even with her head drooped between her tense shoulders.

She had her back to me, not even deigning to look at the supposed friend she’d been smiling at only weeks ago.

A roar resounded in my ears. I became distantly aware it was the sound of my own heart, breaking.

It numbed me more than whatever spell the imposter and shadows had cast on me.

Than the fear of drowning in the monster’s river.

Than the power Valuta had tried to use to manipulate me.

Kaya, beautiful, naive Kaya, stood right there at the altar next to Zandyr. A bit to the right, leaving the left side for–for me, I realized with a start.

One wedding.

Two brides.

Two very satisfied advisors.

And one groom who looked ready to cleave the world in two. But who stood there, unmoving, letting all of this unravel right in front of him.

It couldn’t happen.

This wasn’t real.

This…

My mind, my poor, fractured mind tried so hard–so very, very hard–to make sense of the scene before me.

In the back of my thoughts, a whisper of a memory hissed. About Blood Brotherhood rulers having more spouses. A tradition that was abandoned long ago.

A startled, mirthless laugh bubbled up to my lips at the lunacy of it all.

Stupid.

I’d been so stupid. So taken with the pretty crowns Leesa had been showing me. After all this time, after everything I’ve been through, after I’d promised myself to not be blinded by comfort, here I was, falling for shiny little trinkets just like my parents said.

I hadn’t seen the lie. The secret. The ruse.

Still, I stared, distantly aware the drums had restarted their maddening tune since I’d missed my cue.

I didn’t move, frozen underneath the massive crimson doorway. I wanted to burn it to the ground, until the flames licked it black and nothing but ashes remained. My power swelled inside me, pushing against the stitches.

I blinked to refocus my eyes, willing the stinging to vanish. The last thing I would do is cry in front of all these people. Or crumple to the ground, as my shaking knees begged to do.

No weakness, even as my heart shattered all over again as I looked at Zandyr once more.

How could you? I wanted to cry. Yell. Roar .

How could he not warn me? Give me a sign, a trail of clues to follow. Anything.

From the way the advisors were practically salivating at seeing their daughter all bejeweled and lovely, the logical side of me screamed that they had a hand in this.

The oath Zandyr had taken before he’d known I was alive.

The secrets he couldn’t tell.

Everyone had warned me, from the moment I’d stepped foot in Phoenix Peak, that Zandyr would protect those he cared about.

But at what cost?

Breaking. I was breaking. I felt it in my muscles that wanted to cave. The breath that ushered out of me in a frenzy. The way my power bled from that little pocket.

And so many people were watching. Waiting for me to break. To be weak.

Zandyr looked at me with such intensity, that force alone might have disintegrated me if not for the famed Vegheara stubbornness in me.

From the periphery of my mind, I felt a nudge from him. A trickle that became a flood. It felt like strong arms trying to prop me up so I could stand on my own.

Not pulling.

Not pushing.

Only giving me that spark I needed to snap out of the paralysis that had taken over me.

The bastard.

Making me choose, once again. At least he had the decency to do that.

But there truly wasn’t a choice, was there? The Protectorate was in shambles under Silas. No armies were coming for me, no spies were digging up secrets, no assassins had been sent out to hunt down those who wanted to kill me and my cousins.

Leaving wouldn’t get me answers, though it might send daggers through my cousins’ backs.

That bloody contract had been signed, I would not start a Clan war that could ravage us.

Steel yourself , Adara had said.

I would become steel incarnate.

For my family, I had been ready to sacrifice myself once.

I would do it again.

The only way was forward.

I took a shaky breath and stepped toward the altar.

Pure relief flooded the connection between me and Zandyr. As if I was somehow in on the plan. As if I understood .

I didn’t.

A corner of his lips twisted into a smile and vanished just as fast as I met his wave of relief with nothing but grief.

Something cracked inside Zandyr. I saw it, in the dimming light of his eyes. Sensed it in the way his muscles tensed, as if he could somehow weather this storm if he turned to stone. Felt it in the rapid alarmed pulses coming down the connection.

I averted my gaze. I didn’t want to look at him, not anymore. I didn’t even want to share the same air as him.

I blocked him out of my mind with wave after wave of my all-consuming, all-encompassing fury. There was still a flutter of him at the edges of my thoughts, yes, but it had no room to sway, no room to breathe over my suffocating feelings.

The guests held their breaths as I marched toward the future that had excited me mere minutes ago.

One step for Allie.

One step for Clara.

One step for Dax.

One step for Dara.

And the final, biggest one for me.

Walking toward Fabrian had been horror mixed with blistering hate that had taken over me. I didn’t recognize that girl, sobbing underneath her veil.

This was so much worse. Because with Fabrian, I hadn’t hoped. Hadn’t…gods, hadn’t ached for him, mind, body, and soul.

My parents’ deaths, horrifying as they had been, had a finality to them I couldn’t fight. Who fought death? Who could claw their souls back to this world?

But Zandyr, standing there, breathing, living, doing this…That, I could not understand.

I could not forgive.

He’d made a fool out of me. A damn fool for walking into this farce of a ceremony unprepared. I didn’t care what reasons he had. One didn’t ask the person who bludgeoned you to death why they did it.

That’s what I felt like now. Dying.

The priests began such a sweet melody that soared to the skies, through the temple’s roof.

To my right, I felt Kaya shifting, trying to catch my eye. I didn’t look at her either. There we were, the Jewel of the Blood Brotherhood and the Lost Daughter.

The jewel hadn’t bothered to warn me about this, holed up in her house. If she hadn’t wanted to face me then, she had no right to do it now.

But Zandyr, dressed in his armor, vials gleaming, with his crimson ceremonial robe on, dripping with golden emblems…he’d held me last night. Had spoken such sweet words to me. His heart had beat against my back as he’d lulled me to sleep.

I gasped as realization hit. That’s why he wanted me to promise.

I’d trusted, lowered my shields, and fell. Gods, I’d batted my eyelashes at him before I left Phoenix Peak, with Adara, Leesa, and Goose witnessing how love-struck I was. My cousins had seen me blush when speaking about him. The guards and warriors had watched me walk out of my courtyard, all excited and floating.

I wanted to crawl into the ground, right through this polished floor, and vanish from sight forever, buried in my own mortification. The shame would turn me into a husk.

They’d all known, hadn’t they?

“Now, the Blood Brotherhood heir shall choose,” the eldest priest’s voice rang out. “Who is the favorite and who is the other love match?”

A crazed cackle bubbled at the back of my throat. I was going mad, wasn’t I?

“And he will choose wisely,” Banu said. His tone was different than Valuta’s sickly-sweet attempts at politeness, I realized. Like an oil slick, clinging too long even after you tried to scrub the sickening layer off you. “And prove Blood Brotherhood might cannot and will not be bent by some other Clan that–”

“I would also choose my words carefully if I were you, Banu.” Zandyr’s voice was like a whip, snapping through the entire temple and quieting everyone.

Banu simply bowed, low enough that his humongous headpiece, adorned with gold and crimson feathers, tilted. For him to still be smiling…he mustn’t have heard the threat in Zandyr’s lethal tone.

Or maybe he had. It didn’t matter. Banu and Valuta had already won.

They hadn’t managed to kill me.

They’d shattered me.

I kept my face devoid of emotion. I would never show another feeling people could use and exploit.

With the poise fit for a prince, Zandyr picked up the smaller crown. The ugly, russet one.

Despite everything, despite the coil of fury wound up impossible tight inside me, my heart still dropped.

To add insult to this gaping injury, Zandyr stopped in front of me.

Deceived. I felt so deceived.

I didn’t look at him, even as I felt him almost begging me to through our bond.

One glance.

One.

Please .

No.

Still, he hesitated.

“My son,” Zavoya’s voice cut through the ugly stillness. Only her and Eldryan looked about as miserable as me and Zandyr. “Are you sure?”

Zandyr didn’t reply. He raised his hands and placed the crown on my head. Guess that made me the love match, did it?

Farce.

Lies.

He made quick work of placing the beautiful pearl crown on top of Kaya’s beautiful head. She trembled as it plopped onto her intricate braid, the strands of pearls clinking around her face.

“The heir has made his choice,” the priest announced.

And I’d made mine. Now the hard part began–living with it.

Applause, raucous and unyielding, echoed all around us like an explosion. Like they were clapping for my unhappiness.

I didn’t watch as Kaya and Zandyr drank from their own chalice, carved out of fine crystal, so everyone and their mother could see their precious blood mixing together.

Then came my turn.

My entire skin crawled as the priest brought out a golden chalice. Opaque. Perfect for keeping secrets.

Zandyr took the ebony dagger from the priest and slashed his left palm, bloody rivulets dripping into the golden liquid in the chalice. “My blood to your blood.”

He offered me the dagger. I flicked my switchblade open. Gasps erupted around us.

I didn’t care. I didn’t even feel as the blade cut my skin, freeing my boiling blood. The droplets mixed in with Zandyr’s in a mesmerizing dance, turning the gold into red.

Then came the hardest part. Touching him.

Zandyr raised his bloody palm. I swallowed past the revulsion and placed my own in his. Slash to slash, out blood mixed together.

A jolt passed through me, searing my veins.

Power pulse between us.

I suddenly felt so decadently powerful, the strength of a thousand men at my fingertips. It was humbling to witness his force with no barrier. So strong. So controlled.

Look at me. Look. At. Me.

I kept my eyes glued to our intertwined hands, blood trickling from our fingers. Despite the pull. Despite how my body begged to lean into him, as if he could save me from this ugly reality he’d kept from me. The priests coiled the golden rope around our hands, caging us. A shiver raced through me as the memory of my tied hands invaded my mind.

Zandyr drank first from the chalice, licking his crimson lips. I could swear there was a growl scratching the back of his throat.

My first gulp coated my tongue, the liquid burrowing deep inside me. A hunger, unlike any I’ve ever felt, bottomless and frightening, took hold. I drank and drank, not bothering to wipe the small dribble that escaped my lips. This liquid was intoxicating. Sweeter than honey and more potent than any drug.

Only when the chalice was fully empty did I lower it. I licked my lips. From the horrified faces of the priests, I must’ve looked like a beast.

Good. Let them know claws lurked underneath this small frame of mine.

The moment our palms disentangled, a quake burst through me. Like my very foundation had been shattered. In front of me, Zandyr’s body gave one tremble.

I still didn’t meet his eyes. I never wanted to look into that blue gaze again and be mesmerized. Or worse, have him know exactly how much it pained me to stand next to him. That truth needed to remain a secret, only for my thoughts and my suffering.

The choir sang louder, the crowd clapped harder, and my heart broke all over again.

I blinked and we were all out in the sun, standing on the temple stairs. I felt Adara’s stoic presence somewhere to my left.

Zandyr and Kaya threw their letters into the cauldron first. Both envelopes were crimson and gold, a perfect match. The embers sputtered and swallowed the paper, turning it into ash in a blink. A thin tendril of white smoke snaked upwards.

“It’s white, it’s pure,” Valuta trilled from behind. “And aimed up at the sky, so their love can soar.”

That was a very generous interpretation of the sputter we had all witnessed, but excited whispers echoed in the crowd all the same. Were they so easy to sway? Or had some of them been instructed to sound elated?

Then came my turn.

Zandyr took out my letter, the seal untouched, same as mine. But while he ran his fingers along its blue edges and placed it gingerly in the cauldron, I simply flung mine in.

The embers hissed and ate the envelopes, the seals melting on top of them.

Maybe it was the wax.

Maybe the gods truly had a grim sense of humor.

A great big billow of smoke, dark and menacing, erupted toward the sky, then crawled down the stairs, hovering over the shocked crowd.

Silence descended. I didn’t know if this was a bad omen or a sign of good luck.

I heard one lone clap.

Then another and another, until the mass of people began to cheer.

Zandyr’s eyes burned the side of my face.

Still, I didn’t look at him. My stinging, reddening eyes focused on the smoke choking the crowd, scattering my own hopes and dreams into nothing.