Page 7

I’m not sure where the impulse even comes from. My desire to fight back had long since been beaten down, filed away, and confined under the chains. But now the chains are gone. He’d come with his own thorns fully retracted, warning me not to tread too close and somehow, possibly with the weight of the Shroud removed it’s triggered mine to regrow again. An attempt to protect myself. And protect Syra.

I hadn’t fully planned on refusing to put the Shroud back on. It was a split-second decision. Syra can’t pretend to be me for the rest of her life. The others will know. Someone is sure to out her. Wouldn’t it be better to reveal myself now and try to use my new position as a means to protect her?

A spark of fear still trills through me as my father’s penetrating eyes find me. Whether his reddening face is due to my being unshrouded or because he knows I’m not the daughter he meant to send here, I’m not sure.

My heart sinks as the witch stalks away, leaving me unprotected but I point my chin and relish the direct sunlight against my face for the first time in so many years. A Shrouded baring her face is a sentence punishable by death. They’re hardly going to execute the bride they’ve just promised, are they? They’ve basically already sentenced me to my likely death.

“Pandora,” my father growls as I approach, making it clear he knows I’m not the daughter he meant to send here. “Where is your Shroud? You’ll bring God’s wrath upon our kingdom.”

“God is already unleashing his wrath upon our kingdom if you haven’t noticed.” Even I’m surprised that I’m brave enough to speak to him in this way. I have nothing left to lose.

“I chose Syra for a reason!”

“Why is that?”

“You are tainted by the dāemon!” he spits so furiously I flinch and retreat a step.

I can’t help myself from glancing around to make sure the prince isn’t close by. I don’t know why it matters when he is what he is yet…I don’t want him to know of my dark predilection. I recover myself and huff out a forced laugh. “That was long ago. Besides, you’ve married me to a witch. It hardly matters.”

His eyes flame. “Syra’s less likely to cause trouble for us.”

So that’s the real reason he’d chosen her. He’s afraid of how this will affect our alliance. How I’ll affect our alliance. Syra was always the better-behaved one. It’s too late for him to do anything about it and he knows it. Best for him to shut up and pretend there’s nothing out of sorts.

My confidence soars. I’ve never had more power than I have right now. “I forced Syra, locked her in her chambers. She’s not at fault and should suffer no consequences.”

“I’ll decide that.”

I lean forward and drop my voice. “If you harm one hair on her head, I’ll find out. I’ll find a way to cause trouble. Don’t forget, you’ve just given me a husband who is a witch. Give me your word, or I’ll do everything in my power to make sure this alliance is ruined.”

I see it. The moment it dawns on him that he’ll have to fold to my wishes. His fingers tremble with anger before his hands close into fists.

“Promise me. That no harm will come to her.”

“No harm will come to her,” he says through clenched teeth.

“And you will marry her to Phillip.”

“Her guard?” he asks, astounded. “She’s worth far more than that. You don’t get to make that decision.”

“Promise me,” I snap out. “Or I will ruin us.”

Before I hear his words of promise the prince returns, wearing that same bland expression he left with and carrying the reins of the largest white horse I’ve ever seen. My pulse quickens at the sight of him. Clothed like midnight, green eyes even more startling in the daylight.

I see it in my father’s face too. Fear . My father and my new husband have had some sort of interaction and it doesn’t seem to have gone well for my father.

I don’t know what kind of idiocy or bravery compels me. It borders on insanity. I force a smile across my face and reach a trepid hand to his arm. “Oh, there you are,” I say with fake enthusiasm.

His eyes narrow. Now that we’re standing directly next to each other, the size difference is jarring. I barely meet his chest. Even if he wasn’t a witch, capable of monstrous things with a flick of his hand, he could kill me with very little effort. I’m happy to see that he at least towers over my father, as well. I force a swallow, turn my head, and widen my eyes, knowing this could very well blow back in my face. Please?

His countenance remains stony but a flash of awareness pools in his eyes. “We should be off,” he gruffs finally.

What happens to me doesn’t matter. Only Syra. And if she can’t be happy, what’s the point of any of it? I turn back to my father. “I think we’re all in agreement, right, father?”

Face still flaming a deep shade of red, he gives me a curt nod as his eyes sweep over the prince’s large form.

Satisfaction spears in my chest, and although I’m about to be carted off by a witch and probably meet my doom, I fight back the urge to grin, this time genuinely. I turn my gaze to the unworldly horse he’s brought with him, just now realizing he’s only brought the one. “Oh, I have my own horse.”

“You’ll ride with me.”

My mouth dries. “Surely that’s not necessary.”

“Your horse will not be able to keep up with mine.”

His tone leaves me no room to argue, and seeing the size of his horse, I don’t doubt him. I’m not even sure how I’m going to mount that beast. My father’s eyes continue to shoot daggers at me, but then the corner of his lip quirks as he turns to the prince. “I hope she is to your liking. If she’s any trouble, you must do with her as you see fit.”

My smirk falters. The next thing I know, two large hands are wrapping around my hips. He hoists me up and settles me sideways against the saddle, eyes meeting mine as he says, “I’m sure you won’t be any trouble, will you, love?”

I start to careen sideways and he steadies me with a hand against my thigh before turning back to my father. “Her happiness is of utmost importance to me. There isn’t anything I won’t do to secure it. Anything,” he reiterates. “As well as a long and peaceful alliance, of course.”

I hear the threat in his carefully crafted words. My father gapes, and I realize I still am, too, and hurriedly shut my mouth. This isn’t for me. Well, it is for me , except only to threaten my father.

He nudges my thigh again, a silent request for me to right myself on the saddle, and I do. Hoisting up my skirts and grasping the pommel for leverage as I flip my leg over. He mounts behind me, and I lean back into his chest to finish the charade out strong. He bends down close to my ear. “That enough?” He asks, voice low enough not to be heard by my father.

I give a small nod, and he grasps the reins to urge us forward. “Farewell, father,” I call out cheerfully, beaming as I watch his retreating scowl.

It only takes seconds for my grin to fade. I’m being propelled into an unknown future with a witch at my back.