Page 3 of Straw and Gold (A Realm of Revelry #2)

Morella

“This one is for scrapes and small wounds,” Seraphine said, handing me a jar of blue paste. “And here’s one for blemishes.”

My trunk was already full, but my sister-in-law was wrapping her jars of salves in brown paper, tucking them tidily into each corner.

She made the ointments using crystals she found in Moonstone Wood and sold them at the Forestfae market once a week.

I admired how everything Seraphine put her mind to, she accomplished.

There was very little I could attempt with her level of success.

“And this one…” she trailed, taking a small jar of something clear but viscous from the top shelf of her cabinet, “is for you and your husband-to-be.”

“What is it?” I asked, taking it from her and shaking the contents.

“Well…when you and your husband are…intimate, this will enhance the experience for the both of you.”

“Ah.” I blushed, wrapping the jar tightly and shoving it into the top pouch inside the trunk. Lowering my voice, I asked, “And where exactly do we put it?”

Her gaze shot across the room to my brother who was holding my niece upside down by her ankles as she laughed and hiccuped.

“Just…wherever you feel comfortable with the king touching you.” She twisted her lips, closing the trunk lid.

“Maybe introduce it a few weeks into your marriage, after you’ve both had some time to adjust to each other. ”

I pulled her into a tight hug. I’d never had a woman in my life to speak to about men, and love, and romance, until my brother had brought his soon-to-be wife home to our castle in the Brackish Wood. I loved her the minute I saw her, and we’d been thick as thieves ever since.

But the woman I thought of as my sister was not fae like us. Seraphine was human. She would live a human lifespan.

But not if I could help it.

I pulled back from her arms, taking a deep breath. “I’m going to miss you so, so much.”

She smoothed her thumbs over my cheeks, holding onto my face.

“I’ll miss you too, my sweet girl.” She sniffed, then her mouth pursed into a serious line.

“Don’t let your husband give you shit, and don’t lose sight of who you are and were born to be.

You will be queen, and with that comes a responsibility to your people.

Bring them your many talents and they will love you. ”

I nodded. “I’ll try.”

“No, you will succeed,” she commanded. “I believe you can do anything, Morella, Ravenfae Princess of the Brackish Wood.”

I fell into her arms again, overwhelmed with her endless love and the hope she continued to give me over the last thirteen years of my life.

First, I’d get my husband to help me transform Seraphine into faekind.

Then, together , he and I would bring more prosperity to our kingdom and live happily ever after.

I asked my brother many questions on the carriage ride through Moonstone Wood.

As always, Korven accommodated my curiosity about the curses woven for the people of Revelry—the same curses I would never have to deliver.

He spoke of various ones with some sounding dreadful, others more irritating than anything.

“And the crew won’t suspect the captain’s curse?” I asked. “Wouldn’t it be obvious?”

“I doubt it,” he answered, watching the grassy fields out the window. “Do you really think pirates would notice if their captain’s heart was missing from his chest?”

“But how will he live? That’s a pretty important part of his body.”

Korven laughed, shrugging. “How did Seraphine live in a spirit form until her curse was broken?”

I sighed and watched the Citrine Cliffs draw closer. “I’ll miss her so much.” I turned to him, smiling. “I’ll miss all of you.”

My brother tensed, whispering, “We can turn around, Morella.”

“What?”

“We can still get out of this contract. You know the escape clause. We can turn this carriage around and send word to the king.”

I frowned, about to speak, but Korven stopped me, taking my hands.

“You signed that marriage contract when you were fifteen years old. There’s no shame, or guilt, or anything fucking wrong with making a different choice at twenty-eight.

All you have to do is write to him. Explain you’ve changed your mind and you will be a free woman. ”

“I don’t want to be a free woman.”

“You made the choice when you were a child! You’ve never even met the man!”

“And how long had you known Seraphine before you slipped a ring on her finger, hmm?”

He shook his head. “That’s—that’s different.”

“Why? Because you knew her when you were ten?” He remained silent and I continued. “Look, brother, I hear you. But I want this. I can do good things as queen and I am sure I can love my husband.”

“What if he’s covered in boils?”

“Then I’ll write to Seraphine for a salve.”

He laughed, pulling me to his seat and tucking me in under his arm.

I rested my head on his shoulder and pulled a handful of thistle nuts from my pocket, munching on each one and savoring the saltiness. “Do you think I can be a good queen?” I asked.

He kissed the top of my head, taking one of the nuts I offered him. “I think you’ll be the best queen. And we will miss you, too. Dearly.”

We arrived at the town of Cenmar just as the sun kissed the horizon. Korven secured our room at an inn called The Miller’s Daughter , planning to stay the night before he would fly home in the morning.

The marriage contract between the King of the Citrine Cliffs and the Ravenfae Princess of the Brackish Wood had been odd in numerous ways.

For one, there was a direct escape clause.

The contract said that upon or after my twentieth year, if I were to spin a cop of yellow wool into yarn and send it to the king, I could choose to release myself from the contract.

Another oddity was that no family was to accompany me to my wedding. I would be allowed to visit, of course, and they could visit me, but the first three months of the marriage was to be without the comforts of visitors.

Lastly, after that first three months, either the king or I could withdraw from our marriage entirely should we choose to do so. We could go our separate ways of our own will, even if the other did not agree, and no longer be married.

Not only was that rare among marriages in Revelry, it was probably one of the only real reasons Korven hadn’t shipped me off to the Silver Isle to be hidden from my betrothed. That last bit gave him hope that I’d return home when I discovered the disappointments of married life to a stranger.

In our room, Korven pulled the wine-red velvet dress from my trunk, holding it up to get another look. “I guess it’s time,” he mumbled with a frown, draping the soft gown over the dressing screen.

I stepped behind the panels, shaking with excitement as I slipped out of my dressing gown and into my wedding dress.

The gown had draped sleeves that hung off my arms and the back was cut low with a few ties.

The front bodice boasted no embellishments except for the cut, which was a heart-like shape that pronounced my breasts without becoming too vulgar.

It had been custom made to accommodate my wings and even though Seraphine had steered me far away from choosing the traditional white gown, she had been surprised at my choice of dark red velvet.

I stepped out from the screen and twirled around. “Well? What do you think?”

“Beautiful,” he hummed.

I beamed and turned so he could help with the ties. “I truly wish you could be there. When the first three months are over, you and Seraphine and Avici can travel to my castle and we will have a proper celebration!”

He tied the strings and turned me around. “And if we arrive and find you miserable?”

“I won’t be!”

“How will I know?” He squeezed my shoulders. “You said you’d write once a week, but what if this king is a right asshole and reads them beforehand or forces you to say nice things?”

I laughed loudly, grabbing onto his arms. Korven had always been protective—overly so—but I knew it came from a place of the love he had for his only sister. The same one he had practically raised in place of our cursed mother.

“Korven,” I started, lowering my voice sternly, “do you really think I’d let my husband do such a thing? Fuck that.”

“Add something to each letter then. Find a way each week to just…tell me you’re alright.”

I frowned at the idea. I was leaving for many reasons—one of them was getting out of the reach of the long arm of my brooding brother. I loved Korven with all of my heart, but I needed to be able to fly on my own.

I sighed. “Thistle nut.”

“What?”

“Thistle nut.” I shrugged. “Each letter, I’ll find a way to add thistle nut and you’ll know I’m not being coerced to write nice things.”

He nodded, pulling me in for another tight squeeze. “Alright. Thistle nut it is. Promise?” He held out his pinky and I wrapped it with mine.

“Promise.”