Page 13
Chapter Thirteen
Stella
The banquet hall hums with life. The sounds of muffled laughter and clinking glasses spill into the corridor where I wait. My heart races, the enormity of what’s happening pressing down on me like the weight of the crown I’m pretending to deserve. In a few moments, I’ll step into a room filled with nobles from all over the Kingdom of Swords—all here to scrutinize me, a stranger from another world masquerading as Prince Valen Greymourn’s betrothed.
I smooth a hand down the skirt of my gown, willing my fingers to stop trembling. Before I can spiral further, the door opens, and Valen steps into the hallway. He’s devastatingly handsome in his formal attire. The silver and black brocade of his coat catches the torchlight, and his easy smile immediately softens the tightness in my chest.
“Nervous, pet?” he asks as he takes my hand in his.
I nod, unable to summon words. His thumb brushes across my knuckles, and he leans down to press a kiss to the back of my hand.
“You’ll be fine,” he says, his eyes holding mine with an assurance I desperately need. “Marek and I will be with you the entire time.”
He tucks my arm into his, and just like that, I’m not alone anymore.
The heavy doors swing open to reveal the banquet hall beyond. The room falls silent as we step inside and every head turns toward us. The dining hall is illuminated by flickering chandeliers, and three long tables skirt the perimeter. They form a U-shape and are draped in violet and silver cloths, their surfaces glinting with fine crystal and polished silverware.
At the head table are two empty chairs flanked by Valen’s parents on one side and Marek and Lance on the other. King Orvyn and Queen Vynestra stand in greeting, and a ripple of movement follows as the dozens of unknown guests get to their feet.
The herald’s voice booms out, echoing against the vaulted ceiling.
“Prince Valen Greymourn and his betrothed, Lady Stella of the House of Calloway, hailing from the venerable northern province of Ironvale!”
The title is foreign and heavy, but I lift my chin, cling to Valen’s steady presence, and force my legs to carry me forward.
My gaze seeks out Marek, and his dark eyes are already locked on mine, grounding me in a way words never could. I expect him to at least glance at the man escorting me, but he doesn’t. There was a lot to take care of with the upcoming ceremony, and I wasn’t around them much today. But when I was, it was impossible not to notice the strain between them.
Valen guides me around the end of the head table where he pulls out my chair and waits for me to sit before taking his own. Marek’s hand brushes mine in a fleeting touch as I settle into the seat between them. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but not to Valen. He notices. Of course he does. When it comes to Marek—and now me—the prince misses nothing.
The room erupts in a chorus of scraping chairs as the guests take their seats, the collective noise echoing in my ears like thunder. Valen remains standing, lifting his goblet in a gesture that commands attention.
“Thank you all for joining us tonight,” he begins, his voice carrying easily across the hall. “Your presence here is a testament to the strength and unity of our kingdom. Tomorrow, I will stand before you all with Lady Calloway, and together, we will forge a new path—one I hope will bring prosperity to us all.”
He glances down at me, his smile softening into something more intimate, something that speaks to me alone.
“I never expected this. I never expected her.” He pauses, the words hanging in the air as he looks at me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache. “Stella entered my life suddenly. One moment, my world was as it had always been, and the next… Well, I can’t remember what it was like before her.”
There’s a smattering of approving murmurs from the guests, but Valen’s eyes never leave mine.
“Love,” he continues, his gaze sweeping over the room but always returning to me, “has a way of surprising us, of breaking down walls we thought impenetrable. It demands courage, vulnerability, and trust. And if we’re fortunate, it gives us strength in return.” He raises his goblet higher, his eyes flickering briefly to Marek before focusing outward on the gathered crowd. “To love, loyalty, and the strength we find in one another!”
The crowd bursts into applause, glasses clinking together in celebration. But for the three of us, the toast lands in a different way. It’s not just a declaration to the nobles of the Kingdom of Swords—it’s a vow. A promise woven into the lie we’re living.
At last, the dinner begins, and with the attention no longer solely on us, I manage to relax, though not by much. I’m sure the food is exquisite, but I’m too nervous about missing my mouth or dropping my fork in front of an audience to notice. Thankfully, my wineglass is never empty, and by the time we’ve finished with the dessert course, I no longer give a flying fig about all the eyes on me. The free-flowing wine also seems to have eased the earlier tension between Valen and Marek, because their teasing banter is out in full force.
“What happens next?” I ask Valen as the last of the dishes are whisked away.
“Now we see how good of a dance instructor the captain is,” he says with a humorous waggle of his brows.
Marek leans forward to regard the prince. “If she is anything less than the picture of grace with you, Your Highness, then it is the fault of the one leading her, not the one who instructed her.”
“Duly noted, Captain Drayk.” Valen winks at Marek before rising to his feet and extending his hand to me with a flourish. “Shall we, my lady?”
I take his hand and offer Marek a playful smile. “If only to defend my dance instructor’s honor.”
Marek’s rare chuckle rumbles softly, warming my chest even more than the wine. I wish I could bottle the sound and keep it with me for all the days ahead—days that will take me far from this. The thought threatens to dampen my mood, but I shove it aside, determined to savor what I have while I have it.
Valen leads me to the center of the dance floor as the musicians strike up a lilting melody, the soft pressure of his palm at my back steadying me as we take our places. We begin to move, and he guides me effortlessly through the steps I just learned yesterday.
“You’re a natural,” Valen murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
“I think it has more to do with my partner,” I reply, earning a soft laugh from him.
Around us, the dance floor begins to fill, the whirl of silks and jewels creating a mesmerizing blur. As we turn, my gaze lands on the edge of the dance floor. Marek stands with the king and queen, their expressions unusually soft. The queen holds Marek’s hands between hers, and the king claps a firm hand on his shoulder.
I glance up at Valen, whose focus remains where mine lingered. “They care for him, don’t they? Like family.”
“He is family. Marek and I have been inseparable since we were boys. His parents worked in the palace, a cook and a steward, and we met running through these very halls. Marek was nine when his parents passed. He would have been sent to an orphanage, but I begged my parents to take him in.”
“And they did.”
“They did.” His steps slow as if reliving the memory. “Though Marek insisted on earning his keep. Even at that age, he had a fierce sense of pride. The moment he was old enough, he moved into the barracks with the royal guard and trained harder than anyone. He rose through the ranks on sheer determination, but to my parents, he’s always been like another son.”
I watch Marek as he exchanges a few more words with the queen. “And when you and Marek…” I hesitate, searching for the right words. “Became more than friends?”
Valen’s gaze flickers with something I can’t quite name. “They supported us. My father made me the kingdom’s emissary so Marek and I could travel, explore the realm without the constraints of court expectations or prying eyes. We always knew it was only a matter of time before I would have to marry and produce an heir. My mother, gods bless her, has suggested a triad more than once.”
“A triad?” My steps falter, and Valen’s arm tightens around my waist to keep me steady. “Marek said something about that too. How would that work?”
“A marriage between Marek and me and a woman we care for who would continue the royal line. Triads aren’t uncommon, and my mother believed it could work.” Valen sighs. “The royal lines’ traditions matter greatly to Marek, more so than they do to me, and there’s never been a triad in the history of our line. You recall that he claims the disruption could damage interkingdom relations or undermine the people’s trust in me as their leader.”
I study Valen’s face and catch the faint crease of frustration between his eyes. “That’s not the entire reason, is it?”
Valen’s silence speaks volumes. I don’t need him to answer, not really. Not when I already know what he’ll say.
“He can’t bring himself to trust another woman after what happened with his first wife.” Sympathy mingles with a sharp pang of understanding. “I can’t blame him. After my fiancé’s betrayal, I swore off trusting men entirely.”
“And yet here you are,” he says softly. “Helping us, standing by us, and trusting us in your own way.”
I shake my head, offering a faint, bittersweet smile. “It makes this all feel…justified. Like the lies I’ve told are worth it. In the end, it means you and Marek can be together, truly together, without duty looming over you.”
Valen pulls me closer, his movements slowing to a sway as the music crescendos around us. “I don’t know what I will do without you, Stella.” His lips brush my temple. “But I do know I’ll spend the rest of my life being grateful for you.”
The dance continues, but I’m distracted when a high, lilting laugh ripples through the hall, startlingly similar to Elara’s. My chest tightens as her face flashes through my mind. Valen told me this morning what little he’d learned—how she’d been sold at a pawn auction, how she’s now owned by some man. I’m terrified for her, for what she might have endured—what she might still be enduring. But Valen and Marek promised that after the wedding, we’d set out to find her together. I just have to make it through tomorrow.
Valen twirls me again, and my gaze naturally seeks out the missing piece of our equation. Marek has moved to the entrance of the hall and is speaking with a man I’m positive I would’ve noticed had he been here during dinner. Tall and broad with dark hair and a trim beard, he carries himself more like Marek than the carefree, oblivious nobles.
“Who’s that?” I ask Valen, nodding toward Marek and the stranger and the easy camaraderie between them.
The song draws to an elegant close, and Valen tucks me into his side. His gaze follows mine, and his expression lights with surprise before melting into a smile. “That’s Greve. He was one of my personal guards. He traveled with me for years, and he became more like a friend. He left a while back to handle personal matters. I had no idea he’d returned.”
“Then let’s say hello,” I suggest, curious about the man who seems to share a deeper connection with Marek and Valen than most.
Valen’s smile brightens as he threads my arm through his as we weave our way off the dance floor. Both men notice our approach, their conversation halting as we near. Greve turns to us and gives Valen a shallow bow before they clasp forearms.
“Welcome back, Greve. It’s been far too long.”
“It’s good to see you, Your Highness. I came to offer my congratulations.” Greve’s questioning gaze sweeps between Valen, Marek, and me. “It seems much has changed in my absence.”
Marek crosses his arms over his chest and mutters, “Not as much as you might think.”
Valen shoots Marek a brief, pointed look. “Allow me to introduce you to my fiancée,” he says, turning to me and resting his hand lightly on my back. “My dear, this is Ronan Greve, one of the finest men to ever serve the crown. Greve, meet my betrothed, Lady Stella Calloway.”
Ronan’s composed expression falters, but the break is so quick that I start to doubt it ever happened. He inclines his head and offers me a reserved smile. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Calloway.”
“The pleasure is mine,” I reply, but I can’t ignore the sharpness in his gaze, the way he studies me as though peeling back layers to see what lies beneath.
“Your name is unique,” he says after a moment. “Where is it that you hail from?”
I reply instantly, the answer automatic by now. “Ironvale, the northern province.”
Before I can say more, a woman’s voice calls out from the entrance.
“Ronan!”
Ronan’s expression transforms in an instant, softening with genuine affection. He turns and extends a hand to the source of the voice, and a striking woman steps into view. Her fiery red hair tumbles over her shoulders in loose waves that complement her emerald gown and pale green eyes as she gazes lovingly up at him.
“Your Highness, Captain Drayk,” Ronan begins, “allow me to introduce—”
“Elara?” The name tears from my lips before I can think. My heart leaps as recognition crashes over me.
Her eyes meet mine, wide and disbelieving. “Stella?”
We collide in an embrace that feels like coming home. The room and its occupants fade into nothingness as I clutch her tightly, tears pricking the corners of my eyes and spilling down my cheeks.
“You’re here. You’re safe.”
“So are you,” she replies, her voice thick with emotion as she clings to me. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
Our embrace lasts forever and no time at all, breaking only when Valen’s voice cuts through. “Well, this is a pleasant turn of events I didn’t see coming.” His gaze shifts to Ronan. “Greve, did you rescue her from Tathame? We’d heard the bastard bought her at a pawn auction. We planned to set out after the wedding to track him down.”
Still holding tightly to Elara’s arm, I glance up at Ronan just as she smirks and nudges him with her elbow. “Go on, my lord,” she says, her tone cheeky. “Tell them how we came to be together.”
Ronan rubs a hand over his jaw and clears his throat. “ I am Tathame. I bought her at auction, it’s true, but the role of pawn was just for appearances. I swear it.”
Elara tilts her chin. “Well, mostly for appearances. You did put that magickal collar on me that shocked me like a fifty-thousand-volt stun gun when I tried to run away. But who’s keeping track?”
Ronan lets out a long-suffering sigh, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Will you never let me live that down, wife?”
“Not as long as there’s breath in your body, husband.”
“Wait, time out,” I say, raising my hands. “ Husband ? Are you actually—”
She holds up her left hand, revealing the stunning emerald nestled in a silver band. “Married? Yup. Crazy, right? But so much has happened in such a short amount of time. And you have no room to talk, Stell! We’re at your rehearsal dinner for your wedding tomorrow. You’re marrying a freaking prince!”
“Okay.” I blink. “Fair point.”
Valen chuckles. “It sounds like we all have stories to share. Why don’t we leave the other guests to their revelry? We can retreat to my rooms upstairs and catch up properly.”
Elara and I stayed glued to each other, our hands intertwined as though we were both afraid that the other would disappear if we let go, and over the course of several hours, the five of us talk and tell our stories of what happened to us after we landed in Towerfall. How she went from indentured servant to revenge coconspirator to falling in love and getting married in a small ceremony on Ronan’s family estate. And how I went from perceived spy to a bride of convenience and future fake-dead wife to ensure Valen and Marek’s happiness.
When I try to hide a yawn behind my hand, Marek stands. “I think it’s time we turn in for the night.”
Valen joins him, setting his glass on the side table. “He’s right. It’s late, and we have a big day tomorrow, pet.”
Elara rises with Ronan, but I keep hold of her hand as I follow. “Noooo, we’ve just been reunited. I’m not ready to be separated from her yet. Stay with me tonight, El, please?”
“Of course I will. After all, as the self-proclaimed matron of honor, it’s my job to get you ready for your own walk down the aisle, real or not. Ronan doesn’t mind spending a night alone, do you?”
She turns a challenging grin on him, one that would be completely ill-advised if it weren’t so clear he’s a total goner for my best friend. His dark eyes soften as he cups her chin with a hand large enough to crush stone.
“Not at all. Just remember, wife, any… distress I feel tonight, you’ll be atoning for tomorrow.”
His tone and the glint in his eyes remind me of Valen when he slips into his dominating role. Marek too, for that matter. And if there’s anything I know about my bestie, it’s that she would never give a man control. But she is about to give him a verbal lash—
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, my lord.”
My jaw unhinges as Elara places her hands on his chest and rises on her toes to press a kiss to his lips.
“Now,” Elara continues with a cheeky grin, patting Ronan’s chest, “I love you, but get the hell out. Shoo, all of you. We still have to gossip about you before we get our beauty sleep.”
Ah, there she is. My feisty, take-no-prisoners best friend. Thank the Universe. For a terrifying second, I’d wondered if she’d been replaced by a pod person.
Valen steps in to smooth over the logistics. “I’ll have someone set up a guest room for you in the palace, Ronan, and have Elara’s things brought here for tonight. She and Stella can stay together while Marek and I return to the cottage.”
Ronan nods, but instead of leaving immediately, he draws Elara into the hallway for a private goodbye that gives me a few moments alone with the man I’m about to marry and the man he loves.
In less than twenty-four hours, I’ll be legally married to Valen—or as legally married as a woman from Manhattan can be to a prince of Towerfall.
My nerves must show, because Valen steps closer, resting a hand at my waist and lifting the other to cup my face. His thumb strokes my cheek in slow, soothing circles as his piercing blue eyes search mine.
“Are you all right, pet?” His voice is gentle, a balm against my frazzled thoughts. “Is there anything you need from us before we leave?”
Tell me I’m not imagining this connection, that you feel as strongly for me as I do for both of you. Tell me what we’ve shared isn’t just an act but something real.
But I bite back the words, forcing a smile instead. I know better. Their love for each other is the kind of eternal bond people dream about. It’s why I’m doing this in the first place—to give them the freedom to live their happily ever after. I’m not a permanent fixture in their story; I’m just passing through.
“No, I’m all set, thank you,” I manage, my voice steady despite the ache swelling in my chest.
Valen studies me for a moment longer, his gaze searching mine as though he wants to argue, but instead, he sighs softly. “We have a lot to figure out. But those decisions can wait until after the wedding. If you still want to go back home, I’ll find a way to get you there. If you want to stay in Towerfall, I can set you up with whatever life you want. We’ll talk about it all tomorrow.”
His words are kind, but they only add to the ache. Tomorrow will come, and with it, the end of this fantasy I’ve built with them.
“Marek, say good night to Stella.”
Valen releases me into the arms of his lover. My heart hammers against my ribs as I wait to be consumed by Marek’s perpetual inferno—a possessive fist in my hair, a grope of my ass, his mouth plundering mine. But tonight, he’s different. He keeps his fire banked, allowing only a candle flame of desire through as he presses his lips to mine. The tenderness of it is startling, unraveling, and before I can stop them, tears spring to my eyes.
This isn’t just a kiss; it’s a goodbye.
My chest tightens, and a silent scream echoes in my mind. How can everything be so achingly perfect, so utterly right, while also tearing me apart?
I kiss him back with everything I have, as if I can stop the moment from slipping through my fingers. But it’s not enough. Marek pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, his breath mingling with mine in the stillness.
“Thank you, sorceress,” he whispers. “For everything.”
My throat constricts, and I struggle to swallow past the lump rising there. “Don’t thank me,” I murmur, my voice trembling. “Please, don’t thank me.”
Because the gratitude in his eyes is a painful reminder that this is temporary, that I am temporary.
Marek steps back, and the absence of his touch leaves me cold. He nods to Valen, his jaw tight, before turning and striding out of the room. The door closes softly behind him, but the sound reverberates like thunder.
Valen’s hand finds mine, squeezing gently, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. My vision blurs with unshed tears, the ache in my chest threatening to swallow me whole. I’m standing in a moment that should be filled with love and promise, but all I feel is the quiet devastation of knowing it can’t last.
“Until tomorrow, pet.”
Valen presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head before leaving the room.
Elara returns moments later, and she slips into bed beside me. We lie facing each other, and after a beat, she reaches for my hand.
“You’re worrying,” she says softly, her pale green eyes searching mine. “Don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you too long.”
I let out a shaky laugh. “I guess there’s no point pretending with you.”
“No point at all,” she says, her lips curving into a gentle smile. “So spill. What’s going on in that head of yours?”
I hesitate, but the weight of my thoughts is too much to carry alone. “Elara, tonight…did you see… Did you notice… I mean, with Valen and Marek, do you think they—”
“Please,” she scoffs. “I noticed how you looked at them too. It’s not exactly a mystery, Stell. This is more than some friendly banging. They’re in love with you, and from what I can tell, you’re halfway to falling for them too.”
I exhale, the sound caught between a laugh and a sigh. “Halfway? I’m already there. Somehow, by some miracle or curse, I’ve fallen in love with both of them.”
Her expression softens, her thumb brushing over my knuckles. “Then what’s stopping you?”
“Nothing. Everything.” I bury my face in the pillow, muffling a frustrated groan. “I said I would never do this again. Have these feelings. Why can’t I just be an old cat lady? That sounds great right now—just me, a bunch of cats, and absolutely no drama.”
Elara snorts, tugging at my hand until I’m forced to look at her again. “You? A cat lady? Please. You’d get rid of it the second it scratched up your couch. And you’d be bored within a week.”
I let out a half-hearted laugh, but it quickly fades. “How do I know that I’m not just some…distraction? A means to an end?”
Elara’s gaze sharpens, her voice turning fierce. “You’re neither of those things. Do you think they would’ve let you into their hearts, their lives, if you were? Valen and Marek don’t strike me as the type to take those kinds of risks lightly.”
“But it’s happened before, El. People say one thing, make promises, and then when the shiny newness fades, they go looking for something with fuchsia lipstick.”
“Darrel cheated on you because he’s a weeping hemorrhoid of a human. His cheating was a testament to his worth. Not yours.”
I blink back tears, the truth of her words hitting me hard. She’s right—I know she is—but the weight of my doubts feels too heavy to ignore. “Don’t I need to go back to New York? My clients, my life—”
“There’s no one waiting for us back home. Your clients will be assigned to another social worker. And your life? We’re the only family we have. Now we’re here, together. And if there’s one thing I know about you, Stella, it’s that you don’t give up on people, and you don’t give up on yourself. If you love Valen and Marek, really love them , then it’s time to stop waiting for them to figure it out and make a proposal of your own.”
I stiffen. “A proposal?”
Elara grins. “Valen made one to you. That’s how this whole beautiful mess started in the first place, isn’t it?”
I press my lips together, unable to answer. Unable to sort out whether I’m willing to take the risk.
Elara sighs, her voice gentle. “Look, I can’t tell you what to do, Stell. But I can tell you this—you’re not replaceable. Not to them. Not to me. And if you let fear make your choices for you, you’re going to regret it.”
My throat tightens, and a fresh surge of tears pricks my eyes. Could I risk everything—my heart, my trust, my very soul—for something as fragile and terrifying as love?
“Sleep on it,” she says, giving my hand a final squeeze. “Towerfall will still be here in the morning.”
I roll onto my back and stare at the shadows dancing on the ceiling. My fears haven’t vanished, but for the first time, I let myself consider something else—hope.
Hope that love could be more than pain. Hope that I could be more than a fleeting moment in someone else’s story. Hope that the Universe wouldn’t lead me all the way here just to rip away the people who feel like home.
The silence stretches, Elara’s breathing evening out beside me as she drifts to sleep. But I remain awake, my heart pounding as the quiet realization takes hold.
Tomorrow isn’t just the wedding.
Tomorrow, everything changes.