I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze, but I hold out a hand, and he grasps it with his own. “In the joining of hands and the fashion of a knot, so are our lives and magic now bound.” His voice is deep yet hoarse like velvet that’s been too long in the sun. “One to another. By this cord, we are thus bound by our vow.”
A black leafy vine materializes from his hand and I yank my hand back—no desire to be under the whims of his spell, but his grip grows pointedly firmer, holding me there against my will as the vine curls and twines around our joined hands. It laces all the way up my middle finger, turning warmer as the black of the vine turns to a translucent gold that lights my skin aglow as it sinks beneath my flesh.
“May this knot remain tied—“
The daemon responds to the infiltrating magic and shoots a series of pulses down my arm. I jolt. This time it’s the witch who jerks his hand back. The divide between his lips widens, surprise flashing in his eyes almost…as if he had felt the pulse of my daemon, too.That’s impossible. The daemon has never struck a person before.
When the soldiers erupt in laughter, I know that this is not what the joining of hands usually looks like. The witch looks to the crowd for a brief moment and swiftly closes the distance to wrap my hand in his grip again, lips now pulled down in a frown. “For as long as love shall last,” he continues. “May this cord draw our hands together in love, never to be used in anger.”
The last of the vine dissolves into the golden light below my skin before slowly fading away, except for three rings of black vines stamped around both of our middle fingers. The soldiers clap more enthusiastically this time. Some still bowled over in laughter.
He drops my hand, turns sharply on his heel and storms off, pushing himself roughly through the sea of armored soldiers.
I stare after him, and my father glares at me as if I’m somehow to blame for my new husband’s poor attitude.
The crowd begins to disperse, and the Queen ushers my father away with a hand ornamented with rings against his back. Soldiers procure tables and chairs out of thin air with practiced motions of their hands. All of them are symboled with the same patterns as the prince’s.
A table filled to the brim with meats, loaves of bread, cakes, and fruits appears where seconds before the ground was empty. Within minutes, the space transforms into an entire dining area, with round orb lights suspended above each table.
The Priest scuffles past me to make his way to a table where my father, the Queen, and a few of her soldiers have seated themselves. He leans down to speak in my father’s ear.
I examine the rings now ingrained into my skin, trailing a finger over them to find the skin perfectly smooth. When I glance up, my father’s furious face is pointed in my direction once more. He and the Priest exchange words before the Priest makes his way back to me.
“What are you doing?” he asks disdainfully.
“I…” I look around, wondering what exactly it is I should be doing.
“Why aren’t you sitting with your husband?” He points a thumb behind his back, and I follow it out until I land onhim,seated on the outskirts, hunched over a full plate. I force a thick swallow.
“Go,” the Priest demands.
I tread forward, stumbling slightly over the hem of my gown. Heads turn and glower in my direction, not even bothering to hide their disgust.
My heart clatters along in my chest, and I pick up my pace to match it. The wooden chair he’s seated in looks as if it’s been crafted for a small child under his large form. He doesn’t look up as I approach. There are no other chairs for me to seat myself in so I come to a still some distance away though close enough that he should’ve noticed me by now.
He continues to shovel food in his mouth, eyes downcast. I take a step forward and clear my throat. He doesn’t even stir. Looking back to find my father’s furious scowl, I take another step forward, practically leering over him now. Many of the enemy soldiers, as well as ours, are watching this spectacle unfold, their amusement evident.
His eyes sweep up briefly and back down. “Can I help you?”
“I—I’ve been instructed to…sit with you.”
He picks up his glass, and the seconds stretch as he slowly tilts it toward his mouth. He takes a sip and settles it back on the table. “And, if I’d rather you didn’t?”
My mouth snaps shut under the confines of my chains as I bristle. I peer around in hopes that a hiding spot will reveal itself, only finding the furiously reddening face of my father. The prince follows my gaze out in the same direction and sighs, tapping two fingers against the table twice. A chair appears so close that I startle back and stare down at it, dumbstruck.
“It’s not a trick.”
Seating myself less than gracefully, the chains of the Shroud clink noisily and I still them under my hand. With nowhere else to cast my eyes, I take to picking at my nails as he continues devouring the hefty amount of food.
Every so often, when I’m certain he’s preoccupied with his plate, I sneak a glance, studying the shape of his jaw, long, straight nose, and prominent cheekbones. There’s a fine layer of stubble across his chin, and his eyes are so shaded that they almost appear bruised.
But I can’t deny that he’s striking. The realization twists a new fear into my gut. Something that borders on inadequacy, and seeing as I haven’t seen my own face in twelve years, I have no idea how I’ll tally up to him.
That should be the least of my concerns, I remind myself. It doesn’t matter what he looks like. He’s still awitch.
Yet I had expected someone many years my senior. As is the norm when the Shrouded are wed. Men who rubbed palms with my father, and he’d toss them a bone, one of the Shrouded, in return. His face would have me believe that he can’t be much older than me unless the texts are correct, and it’s something in their magic that keeps them looking young.
In my imaginings, the witch I was to be bartered to was eager to get his greedy hands on me. However, I hadn’t prepared for this. Hadn’t prepared for him to be just as dejected about the idea of this marriage as I am. I’m not sure if that makes it better or worse.
