Thomas only received a brusque nod, no invitation to familiarity.
Prince Alder returned his attention to Mireille. It felt like a great deal of attention, given that he was only one man, but she remained steady. Their agreement had already been settled—Mireille would never have made the trek to the greenwood otherwise—but he evidently thought she needed a reminder of the terms before the bargain was officially sealed, because he said, “Once you cross the boundary, you will be tied by bargain. You will not be released. You will not be allowed to return home.”
“I understand.”
He was incredibly tall, his dark hair confined by the crown of tangled bone-like spikes. There was a lean elegance about him and despite the crispness of his manner, he did not seem entirely discourteous. He held himself like that of a person of immense power. But there were many kinds of power, and his was the sort that could fell the surrounding trees with the flick of a wrist. An entire kingdom of fae were beneath his rule. Mireille understood that and more.
He said, “If you come at all, you must come willingly.”
“I do come willingly.” A strange sensation of magic seemed to shift in the soil beneath her feet. She did not look away from the prince, though, in truth, Mireille’s willingness was dependent on circumstance. She would not be so inclined without sufficient duress in the form of one very unpleasant fae queen. But the threats to her life and kingdom were more than sufficient, so the words had not been a lie. Even if she had not told the prince of her reasoning.
The prince’s attention never wavered. “You will be given one month at my palace under the laws of hospitality. By the next moon, if you mean to stay under my protection, it will be as my bride.”
“And if I do not? What then?” What if she did not say the vows that would bind them by law. What if she did not uphold her word.
Bearing unchanged, he said, “Those who have offered themselves under bargain may not be released.”
Thomas leaned forward to put in, “Unless they pay the price to break that bargain before time is up.”
His statement was roundly ignored. Near the trees, one of the Westrende kingsmen coughed.
For Mireille’s part, she had not even asked the price to break their bargain. The due for bargain-breaking was always more than a person could satisfy, and never a matter of petty wealth but one of unthinkable sacrifice. Whatever it was, she would not be able to pay it. The fae did not allow humans into their realm only to let them return to their homeland freely. She asked, “What happens if we are not wed at the turn of the moon? I will no longer be protected by the laws of hospitality. I will not be treated as a guest. But should I go through with the marriage or not…”
The prince’s manner seemed to darken. A chill breeze swept the clearing. He said, “Either way, you will belong to me.”
His queen or as his captive, that was her choice. Mireille wet her lips. She’d heard many tales regarding how prisoners of the fae were kept. She would be deciding between that uncertain fate or becoming a member of the Riven Court. It may have seemed like an obvious course, but the fae court held dangers of its own. Dangers that might make a person beg for the discomforts of a small, dark cell. And should she marry the prince of Rivenwilde, she could no longer be heir to Norcliffe, not when the entire reason she left was to keep it safe from the fae.
Neither situation would be as unpleasant as the fate that awaited her outside of his protection, though. If she did not find a way to defeat the queen, Norcliffe and everyone Mireille loved would be destroyed. The month she’d been gifted as his guest needed to be enough. Whether she was confined by walls or by vows, Mireille had to get close enough to the prince to discover the secrets of fae magic, but not close enough to risk him discovering her own.
She gave a quick, decisive nod. “I accept your terms. Let us away.”
The prince’s gaze held a hint of wariness as it flicked toward Thomas, then returned to lock on Mireille’s. “Very well.” Mireille thought it telling that he would have suspicion of the agreement at all, but he said, “It is agreed.” The power beneath her feet swelled, and the prince, the clearing, and Mireille’s future all seemed to shift by unknowable degrees.
It was done. Her fate was sealed. Mireille moved to take the prince’s arm, and there was a moment of awareness between them that he had not yet offered. More hesitation, it seemed, despite that their bargain was settled. It was a solid reminder that the arrangement was bigger than just the two of them. Mireille gave a farewell glance toward the Westrende marshal, who returned a firm nod. It was unclear whether Westrende had any faith she might succeed.
Head inclined slightly, the prince finally lifted his arm, Mireille slid her hand through, and they walked together toward the wall.
“Thomas,” she reminded the prince.
He blinked at her, then, evidently understanding, cleared his throat. “One does not have to be touching a fae to pass through once the gateway is open.”
“Oh.” She did not let go. “Well, at least, do not forget him.”
Behind them, Thomas muffled a chuckle. He was carrying a single small bag, the entirety of both their possessions since their departure from Norcliffe had been executed with as much stealth as possible, and he was the only bit of security and sense of home that Mireille had left. It was calming to hear the hint of levity from him and to know that her friend was at her back.
The prince’s jaw flexed but not, it seemed, with shared humor. He did not seem to be having a great deal of fun stealing away a human princess under the watchful gaze of his sworn Westrende enemies, truth be told. But before another breath, they were walking through the wall, its filigree wires uncurling to surround and gather the prince, its magic parting in a manner that Mireille was not quite able to make sense of, even as she was drawn inside the boundary with him. She could see through the wall’s glamour to the cage beneath and feel the magic around her, in a way that felt as if it could not be denied, no matter how much power one might possess. It was an insistent pressure not only against her skin but every part of her being, as if gravity, like diving from the cliffs of her home into the icy waters of the sea. Not that a princess would do such a thing. But if she had—very similar.
They came through the other side and the prince pointedly did not glance at her, heaving in breath and clinging to his arm as she was, or at Thomas, who Mireille was grateful to find had made it through and was again at her side. Thomas was a little green and looked as if he might be regretting not taking that last chance to flee but when he met her gaze, he gave a halfhearted nod.
They had made it.
Through the wall, only. The easiest step. Mireille wasn’t even certain it counted as a step in her plans. She should have made a list so that she might check offgetting to the forestandfinding the wall, lest that was all they would manage. It was always good to feel accomplished.
“Shall we pause for a moment?”
The prince’s words brought a huff of helpless laughter from Mireille’s chest. “No,” she said finally. “That was quite an experience, but I believe Thomas and I have our land legs once more. Do carry on.”
His brow pinched. “I thought it best to walk through our domain but that was inconsiderate after the journey you’ve already made. I shall bring us closer at once.”
