Page 29

ALISTAIR

In the vestibule, I stand beside my trembling wife to shake hands with people I barely know.

“What have you done to her?” Killian demands sotto voce as he stands on the other side of me, his bride flanking Briar’s other side. Further down are the Tremaine sisters and their new husbands. Alina coos from the arms of a nursemaid pressed into service for the duration of the ceremony.

Beside me, Elinor woodenly offers her limp handshake to strangers. A storm brews in her bright eyes.

Tears.

Fuck. I swallow back a surge of bile. My triumph at winning her hand drowns in a roiling sea of realization that I should have been more specific with the damned fae witch.

She delivered precisely what we agreed upon—an appearance from Tremaine, and his heartfelt apology for what he’d done to her.

I never imagined she’d be so eager to be gone that she wouldn’t stay ten minutes past the conclusion of the actual ceremony.

Me and my cursed lying tongue. Have I lost Elinor for good?

No. I refuse to let that be the case.

“I married her,” I grit out, forcing a smile and accepting congratulations from an obsequious earl. She is mine now.

Killian shakes his head. Most of the courtiers avoid touching him, staring with open disdain at the florid tattoos twining their way up his wrists into his sleeves.

No one else wears tattoos. Even if they did, they wouldn’t move and change.

Kill doesn’t seem bothered. Then again, he is rarely bothered by anything.

Elinor’s stiff, cold anger radiates off her like a cold wind down a mountain. I need to get her out of here, now.

As the line of well-wishers diminishes, a bell clangs out warning.

“Why is there always a fucking dragon ruining my fucking wedding?” I mutter as people scramble for cover. My first and only priority is Elinor. Despite her sadness and anger toward me, I again manacle her upper arm and drag her to the window.

“Dragon?” Briar abandons her post in the line and rushes to a window.

“There’s an old woman riding our dragon,” Killian says, peering into the sky over his wife’s flaxen hair.

“She isn’t ours to command,” Briar says. “But she’s never allowed anyone else near her before. She despises humans. Even you, Killian.”

“Especially me. I hunted her mate.” Regret laces his tone.

Briar puts her arm around his waist and says, “You’ve made amends.”

“That’s Maxine!” Elinor cries out, pointing. “What is she doing?”

We gawk at the sky as the animal and its passenger climb higher with each labored wingbeat. Cold understanding washes over me in a torrent.

“Wily fae witch,” I grit out. Elinor’s worried eyes find mine.

“She’s going home, isn’t she?” she whispers.

I scrub my palm over my face. “All of this”—I gesture to her, then myself— “it was all a setup. A trap to trick me into revealing the location of the fae’s hideout and to lure Briar’s dragon here so she could reach it.”

There is much to resolve between us, but my wife pales with understanding of the enormity of this moment.

“War is coming,” Elinor whispers. “Isanthia will fall.”

Wordlessly, I confirm her suspicions.

“Good riddance.” My father coughs violently. “Never cared for witches or dragons. Or Isanthians, for that matter.”

Killian shoots my sire a dark glare. The king is too busy collapsing to notice. Elinor rushes to his side, her veil spattered with blood as he’s racked by another fit of coughing. The remaining crowd gasps in unison.

“Help me move him.” I gesture to Killian, who obeys my command as if our relationship had never fractured. I could probably have lifted my father alone, but he’s more comfortable being carried by the two of us. As comfortable as can be, at any rate.

Another catastrophe of a wedding. I can but pray that my reign won’t be as plagued as my nuptials have been.

* * *

Elinor

I trail after Alistair and Killian carrying the King of Belterre, each man holding one leg and his arms looped around their shoulders. They’re strong men, and I have to hasten to keep up with them despite their burden. Together, they lay him gently onto his bed.

The king’s rheumy eyes dart to me.

“You be sure to give him lots of heirs,” he says. My fingers, which have been playing absently with the hem of my veil, go quiet. Flecks of blood mar the pristine white.

I have no response to the king’s dying wish. Alistair bends over his father, haggard and stone-faced. I have the strangest temptation to run my fingers through his hair.

He tricked me. We’re not doing affectionate gestures right now, Ellie.

Yet the grief pinching the corners of his eyes gives me pause. My husband’s father is dying. He is about to become King of Belterre as a war descends upon the land, and all I can think about is my own pain?

I’m better than that.

Aren’t I?

The king stretches out one trembling hand to me. “Come closer.”

Obediently, I do.

He pulls me down to whisper with labored breath. “Tell my son…I am proud…of him.”

With a final, painful wheeze, he collapses onto the bed, unmoving. Alistair’s throat works.

“Awkward timing,” Killian says, holding out his hand. The prince—now, king—clasps it over his father’s corpse. “I’m sorry.”

“He was holding out to see me married.” Alistair’s voice contains so much grief I can hardly bear it. “I suppose that’s part of why I put it off for so long. I didn’t want to lose him. He was a bastard in most ways, but he was my only family.”

His eyes find mine.

I drop my gaze to the floor. We are a family now, for better and for worse. Our marriage will be tested by war, by distrust. But it can be whatever we make of it.

But first, we have to clear the air.

I make my way over to him and take Alistair’s hands, dragging him into a corner. “I hate that you tricked me into going through with the wedding. I hate that you lied to my face.”

“I’d do it all over again, if it meant keeping you.” He swallows visibly. “I would burn down the world for you, Elinor.”

“I know you would. You’re a liar who will resort to the most underhanded tactics imaginable to get what you want.”

He nods agreeably. It’s all I can do not to laugh. He has the aspect of a schoolboy caught being naughty. From behind us comes a click as Killian audibly exits the room, letting us know we’re alone. I have no doubt that the onetime knight can move silently when he wishes to.

“What did you do to Tremaine? The truth this time, Alister.”

He sighs. “I beat your stepfather to death and fed his body to the monsters in the moat. I didn’t intend to kill him.

I knew he’d hurt and abused you, which was unforgivable, but I thought he could accept his punishment and issue a proper apology.

But he wasn’t at all apologetic. The things he said about you… ”

“Such as?”

“Trust me, darling, you don’t want to know.” Mixed in with the grief in his eyes, I read sorrow, anger, and regret. “Suffice it to say, things got out of hand. My only regret is that I didn’t make him suffer longer.”

Dismay curdles in my stomach. He knows I didn’t want Tremaine hurt. Yet part of me is viciously thrilled that after being overlooked and forgotten for so long, one person fought for me. “But then you realized you had a problem. You needed his permission to marry me. So you lied.”

He lifts one shoulder and lets it fall. “It’s what I do, Elinor. Court is rarely a place for truth-telling.”

“You mean, lying is part of diplomacy.” I take a deep breath.

“Yes.”

“Which we will need if Belterre is to survive the coming conflict with Isanthia and the fae.”

He nods again. I slip my arms around his waist. He holds me close, his breath stirring my veil, tickling my hair along my temple.

“I suppose I shall have to learn how to become a better liar myself, if statecraft requires such methods.” I sigh. Forgiving him so easily, already, when there is still one thing I need to say.

“You’ve already lied about your identity. When it comes to protecting those you love, you will resort to any low tactic, Sunshine. Just as I will. We’re ruthless, you and I, in our different ways.”

I think back to the day when I went into the village and lied to the baker about being happy at home. About the fibs I told the night of the ball. He’s right. I have a tenuous relationship with the truth when it suits me, too.

Perhaps, I’ll do just fine at court. I have always known that there is strength in kindness and endurance.

Fighting doesn’t always mean clashing steel.

Sometimes, it’s only the will to never give up despite overwhelming odds.

I possess that kind of strength in spades. We will need it in the coming days.

But first I must finish fighting my own battle, here at home.

“What hurts the most, Alistair, is that the apology ‘Tremaine’ gave me before our wedding meant everything to me. Yet it was just another lie.”

He hangs his head. Takes a deep breath before answering me.

“I asked Maxine to tell you what I felt you needed to hear. You never would have gotten an apology from him directly.” He kisses my knuckles. “None of that should ever have happened to you. I wish you hadn’t found out and you could believe in his sincere regret.”

“Did he express remorse when you were…” I can’t bring myself to say beating him to death.

Alistair shakes his head. “Nothing but excuses to the last breath.”

I inhale sharply, my diaphragm contracting so hard that a pinch of pain radiates across my ribs. “I believe you.”

“You shouldn’t have to question my veracity,” he says bitterly.

I lean against his shoulder. He embraces me, stroking my back.

“I may lie for you, but I never to you. If I raise my fists in anger, it will be to protect you and our children, if we are so blessed. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I promise. I won’t allow it. ”

I believe that, too. Still, a nervous chuckle bursts out of me. “How do I know you’re not lying again?”

Alistair scoops me into his arms, my beautiful gown trailing to the floor.

“Because you are mine now, Sunshine, and I protect what belongs to me. You. Belterre. Its people. All of it is under my watch, now. Statecraft may require me to speak half-truths or outright lies, but they will always be in service to your well-being.”

I twine my arms around his neck and brush a kiss to his cheek. “You’ll be a great king, Alistair. I believe in you. Whatever comes.”