Page 5

5

Dark and Dangerous

D aenn doesn’t say another word as we traverse the cave system to the ceremony hall. He’s angry, I think, but it’s hard to tell with this new stranger. I keep my own silence; I don’t know what to make of his announcement.

When we reach the ceremony hall, I stop short at the entrance.

I expected us to be a spectacle for the entire clan, but the great echoing cavern, with its painted walls that dance with the flickering firelight from the ornamental braziers, holds only a small handful of people near the front. Sigrid is one. The Clan Priest, Jakob, is another. He’s a weathered man who’s been the priest since long before I was alive, as well as Sigrid’s husband. The last two witnesses are Eskil and Kettil.

I keep my voice low, but of course it carries in the empty cavern. Maybe the others will hear and realize how mad this all is.

“So you do see how shameful your actions are,” I say snidely. “Seeing as you’re not willing to marry me in front of the whole clan, as you should.”

The muscles along Daenn’s jaw ripple as he clenches his teeth, but his stride doesn’t falter .

Eskil, at the front of the room, crosses his arms. “The lack of a crowd is in case the worst happens and for no other reason.”

His tone is cold, far colder than he’s ever used on me before, and icy dread trickles down my spine at the statement.

His words compound on Daenn’s from the hallway, only making me feel more keenly like I’m missing something—something big and important. My steps falter, and I swallow before hurrying after Daenn, whose long stride has already carried him several paces ahead.

We stop before Jakob in the space I saw countless couples fill in weddings I attended growing up, their hands clasped, their whole bodies radiating joy. There is none of that today. Daenn still keeps his hands firmly at his sides, so I do the same, despite the oddity of it. Custom may dictate a physical connection during the ceremony, but I’m not eager to close the distance between us.

I look at each attendee. Sigrid meets my eyes, her look a touch sad, even as she smiles at me, and there’s something else there too—worry, maybe—that only amplifies the dread spreading across me. Kettil drops his gaze when I look at him, but Eskil tilts his chin up in a challenge and glares at me. Not with hatred, but like I’m the biggest fool in the room.

I straighten my shoulders. I’m not the fool here; they are. The whole lot of them. Even Sigrid is going along with Daenn’s insanity. I can’t blame her; I know her loyalty to our clan. But it hurts all the same.

Jakob gestures for us to stand before him. I mutinously consider running, but Daenn picked his guests well. Kettil used to win every warrior race on festal days when we were younger, and Eskil is surprisingly swift for his size .

And Daenn stands closer than all of them, and he already knows the full extent of my intentions. I’m sure he’s ready for me to run or attack him again.

I grit my teeth and step forward beside Daenn, but I’m not giving up yet.

“Are you really going to marry us against my will?” I ask Jakob coldly.

Sigrid looks down, her mouth twisting.

“Better that then let rumors of the king keeping a mistress spread,” Jakob says practically. “Which will no doubt happen should he keep you near him without a wedding first.” There’s a long-suffering about his demeanor that tells me he has had this argument already with Daenn, and, of course, the king got his way.

I whip my head to glare at Daenn. “Better to keep me in the cells. I’ll make your life as much of a nightmare as you’ve made mine, otherwise.”

“That’s not close enough.” Daenn shows no hint of offense at my defiance. If anything, he almost seems… sad. What could a monster possibly have to feel sad about?

I sneer. “What, you need to be able to see on a daily basis how you’ve shattered me?”

Eskil growls, but Daenn just shakes his head. “You will have more freedom if we’re married.”

“How? How is being shackled to you through marriage more freedom?”

“Your magic will be directly linked to me then. The magical proximity should allow you some physical distance.” Daenn looks back to Jakob. The closure of the subject is clear. “Let’s begin.”

I have no idea what my magic has to do with this, but I’m not given a chance to ask. Jakob launches into the wedding ceremony with the same practicality he’s always had. He speaks of our sacred vows to each other and our god, Lirev. Out of respect for said god, I don’t scoff, but I’m sure my expression is still mutinous. He speaks a blessing over the wedding bands, matching silver bracelets in different sizes, that sit on a table to his right.

He reaches the end of his monologue and looks expectantly at us. “If you would take the marriage bands.”

Daenn takes the smaller one meant for me; it’s not a perfect circle, but rather a spiral, like a breeze’s swirl trapped in silver. He reaches for me, but Jakob clears his throat, pointedly looking at Daenn’s gloved hand. Now that I’m not trapped against a wall, I look at them more closely. They’re dark leather, but fitted and thin, looking more like a second skin than the riding gloves common amongst the clan’s warriors.

Daenn tenses. “No.” The word is a sharp growl. “The gloves stay on.”

Jakob looks ready to protest, but Daenn’s entire demeanor has shifted from tight control to barely restrained danger. Jakob purses his lips before acquiescing. “As you command, my king. Lady Emana, if you would raise your left hand.”

I hesitate—not out of the defiance that has been coursing through me, but from the tension in the air now. It’s so thick and heavy I could cut it with my letter opener. Daenn feels deadly in this moment, and his tension has leeched into the rest of the room. Eskil and Kettil stand stiff, and Sigrid is pale. My magic spools out into the room, but I ignore it. It’s not like I can direct it to do anything useful here.

I won’t give Daenn the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I swallow it down and turn, raising my hand to chest level. Daenn is as still as a statue for a moment, his gaze softening when he looks down at our hands. Then he moves, so very slowly, and slips the bracelet over my hand. The leather of his gloves brushes my skin, warm and soft, as he pushes my long black dress sleeve out of the way to help the bracelet lie correctly.

The bracelet glints silver against my wrist, most of it peeking out beneath my sleeve. It’s loose now, but I’ve seen the magic at previous weddings. It won’t stay that way.

I never thought I’d resent seeing one of my clan’s wedding bands on my wrist, never thought it would feel like a shackle.

Jakob clears his throat. I take the hint and reach for the other spiral band, having to lean into Daenn’s space to reach it. He smells of pine and stone, exactly like he used to. It’s a knife to my heart that such a comforting scent belongs to someone so cruel now.

I grip the wedding band and wait for Daenn to offer his hand.

He makes no move to.

I glance up, frowning. This is what he wanted; why is he—

The cold, unbridled fear on his face draws me up short.

His gaze meets mine, and his expression shutters, falling back into that cold mask—but he can’t entirely pull the fear from his eyes. That fear scares me more than anything else from him. I’ve never seen Daenn so afraid before.

My magic reaches for him, and I can almost sense the exact moment it touches him, because he inhales slowly and his shoulders relax infinitesimally. After a moment he even lifts his hand, so I push the bracelet over his fingers and into its place on his wrist. When I move to pull his sleeve out of the way, he jerks his hand away. “I’ll do it.”

And with quick efficiency, he does, tugging his sleeve and the edge of his glove out of the way until the wedding band rests directly against his skin. The band disappears as he shifts his sleeve back into place.

Jakob speaks the final binding vows. “With these bands, you are tied to each other as the stars and moon and sun are tied to the skies. May you reflect your love, loyalty, and respect for each other until they shine brighter than the noonday sun and help you soar together on the winds of life. So may Lirev bless this bond.”

The bracelet on my wrist contracts like a living thing until it’s snug against my skin—not painful, but neither will it come off without bending it horribly out of shape. With it, a heat flashes through my whole body, searing and sharp and overwhelming my senses for a moment. Even after it’s gone, I can feel the memory of it.

No, that’s not just the memory, but a lingering sensation. It’s still searing through me. It takes a moment for me to register what it is.

Magic.

In that place where I sense my power—the first thing I notice is how tangible it all feels. I mentally brush a touch over my sparkling magic, and it shifts, trailing behind my fingers. For the first time in my life, I think… I think I can actually manipulate my magic. It’s unheard of—gryphon clan magic is never wielded—but I feel it in a way I never have before. It’s disconcerting.

But there’s also something new and heavy and dark twining through my familiar motes of light. I mentally reach for it too but shy away before touching it. It’s dark and dangerous. Deadly.

I stumble back a step with a gasp. “What is this? What are you?”