I abandon him as an option and search the crowd for Kellan. There are not that many people here, but it still takes me a minute to spot him standing by the windows with Libby. He’s got her tucked in front of him as they look outside, whispering something in her ear. He places his hand on her stomach for a moment.
The movement is so subtle, but I know immediately why he was so panicked about her during the rebel attack and why he has Ames protecting her. My sister-in-law is pregnant again.
The revelation fills me with a mixture of joy and dread. With everything I’ve just learned about the Drained, I’m worried about what the future of Lunameade looks like for them and this new baby. I’m also a little hurt that Kellan hasn’t told me yet.
The women around me all laugh, startling me back to whatever conversation I zoned out of.
“Are the parties really as wild as the stories say? Everything you’ve described so far sounds like standard fare,” says Ellery James.
She’s one of the younger daughters of East Hold and a legendary gossip. Aidia can’t stand her, but we’ve always put up with her at parties because she and the rest of her family all have blessings from Vardek. While none of them are blessed with holy fire, they all have unique shielding abilities. They’ve built their magic into the stone walls of East Hold and their gates have rarely been breached because of it.
They’ve been slowly working their way around the city walls for the past five years, trying to shore up every angle, but it’s slow work. That means, as annoying as she is, I have to play nice.
I force a smile. “It was hardly any different than a wedding here.” Lie. “Just slightly different dances.” That, and the communion where I had to share my deep, dark secrets with my new husband.
“It was wild in the way any event with free-flowing alcohol is,” I say, imagining what their faces might look like if I told them about the sex ritual, and laugh.
The first lightning bolt of pain sears through my head, and my stomach heaves. It’s a fast attack. Normally, I have at least a few minutes after seeing the halos, but this is coming on in an almost supernatural rush.
I’ve always known that hope is not a thing for me, but it’s as if my condition sensed my desire to banish it—the hope Mountain Well gave me—and wanted to be sure to dash it as swiftly as possible.
I squeeze the stem of my glass to brace against the hurt. The women in the circle watch me with hawk-like assessment. They’re not looking for this. They’re looking for any sign of what I’m not saying about my new husband and his customs.
This is not a good time to be under such scrutiny. Sweat breaks out on the small of my back and my body flashes hot, then cold. It feels like all my nerves are sending opposing sensations at once and my brain is overloaded.
“What blessing did his parents bestow on you?” Harriet Lavoy asks. My brother Frederick is married to her oldest sister, whose family runs Southeast Hold. Her line is mostly blessed by Elvodeen, and they’re gifted healers.
I look to Gaven again, and a throbbing pain presses up behind my eyes. He has his back to me this time. I should just excuse myself and say I need some fresh air.
“Asher and—” My vision is almost entirely burned out from bright light flashing like a warning that I’m only a few moments from losing my dinner and maybe even collapsing from the pain.
I am so frustrated with the burden of this body and its weakness. Why does it refuse to be healed? Is this the price I have to pay instead of madness? I’m not sure the senseless anguish is better than actually losing my mind.
I try to focus on Harriet’s face, but my vision swims with light. “They asked Divine Asher, Divine Harvain, Divine Vardek, and?—”
The pain is a void I’m falling into, and I can’t seem to form words.
“And Divine Kennymyra, of course.” Henry’s deep voice comes from somewhere behind me.
I turn toward him and almost fall over. Henry’s arm catches me around the waist. I stare into his dark blue eyes, willing my body to cooperate for just a few more minutes. The lightning aches shooting through my brain seem to increase in response.
“Hello, wife,” Henry whispers with mock affection. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course not.”
He chuckles as he tenderly brushes my cheek and kisses me.
Nothing in my life has ever muted the pain, but this does. The moment his lips brush mine, Henry transforms into an eclipse that can blot out the rest of the world.
It’s not just some quick affection. This is a kiss I feel everywhere—a benediction that cleanses me of everything that came before and turns me into someone new.
His hands thread through my hair, and I’m hyperaware of all the places our bodies touch, of the way we fit together perfectly. He tastes like whiskey and a subtle, tart hint of cherry. I want to pull away and drink something, anything, to chase him from my mouth. But he holds me there, his hands gently cupping my face.
I’m breathless when he pulls away and leans his forehead against mine.
“I’ll get you out.”
It’s only then that I realize he knows. He spotted my distress from across the room—perhaps I am not so well-mastered as I think.
