“You have played your hand well,” I grit out.
“I’ve only had a hundred years to plot my revenge,” she says, snapping back to her true form, looking almost youthful this time. Her silver hair has darkened slightly, her lips are plump and pink, her cheeks subtly smoother. “I was the one who cursed your first bride, princeling. It was I who sent monsters to protect her, although she didn’t see it that way. I cursed your great-great-great-grandmother for ruining my plans. She poisoned Briar, so I made her death contingent upon Briar’s awakening. A fitting revenge for thwarting my plans, don’t you think?” She chuckles and prods me in the sternum. “I can do worse to you. I won’t hesitate.”
I believe her.
“Fine,” I grit out. “I will show you the castle. But I warn you, no bird can fly high enough to reach it. You remain earthbound.”
“I have left nothing to chance, princeling. Rest assured, I have a plan for that, too.” She grins, revealing perfect, white teeth, with sharply pointed canines. There’s a feral look about her.
I recognize a bad bargain when I’m making one, but I would rather spare Elinor the pain of knowing what I did to her stepfather. I promise this will be my last lie. From now on, nothing but the truth will fall from my lips when she is the only one who can hear me. Lies and half-truths must play a part in statecraft, but in the intimacy of my private life with Elinor, I must learn to speak a new language.
Starting this afternoon.
One last lie to tie her to me forever.
“Do we have a deal?” she prompts.
Sun beats down on the crown of my head. Time is slipping away. Wordlessly, I nod.
I’m going to regret this. I’m counting on Elinor’s forgiving nature. Once we’re married, she’ll come around. I just need this one final deceit to last a few hours. Until she’s mine. Forever.
“Sign this.” She points to a scroll of parchment, upon which scrawling lines appear. I read the agreement silently and find no trickery. I show her the location of the castle. She pretends to be Tremaine for the duration of my wedding. Our bargain is then complete.
“Well?” She opens her palm. An inkpot appears in the center. She offers me a quill. I dip and sign the first A of my name in bright-red ink.
Blood.
I lift the quill, hesitating. “I have an addendum. I need you to do something for Elinor.”
Maxine arches one brow suspiciously. I write my request in blood ink and show it to her for approval. She points. Her name scrawls across the bottom.
“Fae bargains are binding, Alistair. Now sign.”
I sign the rest of my name and underscore it for good measure.
“It is done.” The scroll poofs out of existence in a shimmering cloud. “I shall meet you at noon in the chapel. You’d best go and greet your friend. The dragon and his bride should be arriving any minute. I told you I had planned for everything.” She smirks. “I wasn’t going to let your messenger be devoured by fae beasties. Whether you can reconcile with your onetime knight is up to you.”
Killian.
I won’t squander an opportunity to mend fences with the one friend I’ve ever had. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to claim Elinor. If he felt a fraction of this obsession toward Briar, no wonder he betrayed me. I’d have done the same without batting an eye.
I rush from the balcony into the cool castle interior. Glancing back over my shoulder, I see a skinny black cat sitting in the sunlight, watching me. I would swear that feline is smiling.
22
ELINOR
My temples throbwith a pounding headache, and my patience hangs by a thread. With barely three hours to go before our collective wedding, my stepsisters have descended upon the castle’s dressmakers atelier with the frantic fury of an invading army.
“We need gowns if we are to be married,” whines Stacia, heedlessly yanking semi-finished gowns off hangers in the workshop. A wordless screech of frustration bursts out of her. “None of these are the right size.”
A seamstress follows her, gently righting the expensive unfinished fabric while glaring daggers at her back.
“Or color,” Stacia says, moving along the row right behind the harried seamstress. She yanks them askew, assessing each one before dismissing it. I can’t believe how rude they’re being.
On second thought, I can. I grit my teeth. “Just pick one. There’s no time to have a custom-made gown.”
Where is Maxine when I need her?
