Fist of the Furor (7 page)

Something in Ryon’s gaze softened. “I suppose I can’t fault you. There is something about the man that draws people to him.”

“Particularly women,” a new voice added. It was the lilting voice of the Henderonian princess. Ryon stiffened.

Catriona’s willowy frame materialized from the darkness, making me feel very short and one dimensional. Bowing, I murmured, “Your Majesty.”

My gaze traveled her clothes, taking in the stiff formal gown from the ceremony a few hours before. The deep purple silk was black in the dim hallway, and I pulled my dressing gown more firmly around me, my bare feet ducking within its folds, my cheeks heating.

Catriona’s gaze found mine and held it. She motioned at Cadeyrn’s chamber. “You’re his mistress then?” she asked.

My eyes widened, my head shaking. “No … no, I’m not the prince’s mistress.”

My stuttering gave her pause, her gaze raking my figure. “And yet you stand outside his chambers in nothing more than a robe and shift?”

There was condescension in her tone, her words sharp and angry. It was the same anger I’d seen on her face in the Hall of Light the day she’d arrived, the same anger I’d heard in her voice when she accused Cadeyrn of murder.

The glow from Ryon’s lantern glinted along the woman’s hair, highlighting the red, and I followed it with my gaze. “You hate him,” I mumbled. My eyes found hers. “Do you think he killed your sister?”

Catriona’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. Ryon groaned from behind me.

“You dare ask me personal questions?” she accused. “You, a girl coming to warm the prince’s bed?”

Her words didn’t bait me. I did, after all, come seeking comfort from the prince even through a closed door, but it wasn’t the kind of comfort she thought I sought. I’d come to terms with something since finding Cadeyrn’s door closed in my face. I was lost. Visiting him had been a way to connect with someone as lost as I was.

“And you?” I asked. “What do you come for? Vengeance?”

Catriona stepped forward, her red lips pressed together, her brows knitted. I knew the moment she recognized me because she inhaled. “Rebel,” she hissed. “I’ve heard many things about you.”

I lifted my chin. “Most false, I assure you.”

Her gaze searched mine. “Then you aren’t the girl of prophecy? A branded girl who crossed a cursed desert and took down a wyver?”

I was shorter than the princess, but I held myself tall, my shoulders back. “I’m given too much credit in rumor. There was a prince lost in the desert who deserves the most honor.”

A knowing look filled Catriona’s eyes. “Ah, yes,” she murmured. “It is often the ones sacrificed who bear the most tribute. And yet,” she waved her hand, “they are not here to enjoy it, are they?”

There was a hardness to her tone that filled me with shame, made the guilt I felt over Kye’s death rear its ugly head.

“Such hatred, Princess,” I said.

Turning away from her, I motioned at Ryon. He exhaled loudly, his relief obvious, his lantern lifted.

“Your escort, Your Majesty?” Ryon asked the princess.

I could feel her gaze on my back. It burned me.

“He is there just beyond the shadows,” she replied.

On cue, a man called out a greeting, and Ryon answered him. It was enough.

We were a few steps away from the door when Catriona spoke again, “You trust too easy, small one.”

I glanced over my shoulder. “Have you asked yourself if it was worth it to your sister, Your Highness? Have you ever wondered if having love, even briefly, was worth the pain of death?”

The princess’s chin lifted, her jaw tense, something glinting on her cheek. I knew even in the dim light that it was a tear. “You want to believe that, don’t you?” she asked. “I’ve heard about your lost prince. Your story is quite the rage with scribes and bards. Little phoenix, they call you. They sing of your great romance with a scarred prince, about his terrible death, his sacrifice. All in the name of love. Tell me, do you think it was worth it?”

Tears pushed at the back of my eyes, but I swallowed them back. I’d spent my life amongst storytellers. I knew the might of a story. Knew how tales tended to take wings and fly. It’s why I loved them. The princess thought she was hurting me. I could see it in her eyes, could see that she believed she had wounded me. But she hadn’t been in that desert lying next to Kye’s body. She hadn’t helped me bury him. She hadn’t watched the way my tears washed his bare, poison-filled chest. She’d not stood in the woods behind a prince while he took the mark of the scribe and the mark of the mage on his wrists. She hadn’t seen him bear our shame. Kye’s fight with his father had started long before I came along.

“He didn’t die for love,” I told her. “He died for justice.” Catriona’s lips parted, but I stopped her. “I’m glad to hear his story is being told. He’s a martyr now. He’s a reason our people fight. He always has been. My goal is to keep him alive, to use
my
love to keep him alive.”

Catriona’s mouth snapped shut, her gaze going to Prince Cadeyrn’s door. There was still hatred in her eyes. Kye may have died for a cause, his life given in war, but her sister had done nothing more than marry a foreign prince.

My gaze followed hers. “You can’t make him hate himself more than he already does.”

With that, I walked away. It wasn’t my place to defend Cadeyrn. Hatred or no, the princess would be sharing his bed on the morrow.

Chapter 8

Morning brought the sound of trumpets, followed by the clanging bell of the Serenity Temple in the village. At first, I did nothing but stare at my bedroom ceiling. I’d been away from the forest too long. I’d gotten used to feathers under my back, a warm room and a steaming bath, and I’d gotten used to not worrying about attacks by Raemon’s men.

“Staying abed won’t make you feel any better,” Oran grumbled next to me. His snout ducked under the blanket, and I jumped when his cold nose pressed against my hip.

“No,” I mumbled, “but it certainly doesn’t make me feel worse.”

The wolf grunted, standing up to shake his fur before jumping from the bed. His paws had barely hit the floor when Reenah entered the room. Prince Cadeyrn’s consort was as radiant as always, her long blonde hair twisted into a complicated fountain of curls on top of her head. Her tresses were covered by a gauzy light blue scarf that traveled down her back like a train. It fell over a darker blue dress with lighter beading. It was the color of the Sadeemian royalty. Blue on blue. Today, the consort represented her country, her sovereign.

She saw me staring and grinned. “No gawking, little bird, you’ve a similar dress to wear today. After all, it is a wedding. No cloaks or tunics. It won’t be allowed. Even the mages and scribes will be required to dress for the occasion. No robes.”

Eyeing her, I whispered, “I won’t wear blue.”

I may be taking refuge in Sadeemia, but it wasn’t my country. Not really.

Her grin widened. “I didn’t expect you would. Your dragon insisted on green. Red, he said, was Raemon’s color, but green would suffice for the rebels.”

My lips quirked. “
My
dragon?”

It was an interesting choice of words. Oran chuckled. Lochlen belonged to no one except himself.

Reenah winked, her hands busy unfolding a gauzy jade scarf. Draping it over a forest green dress, she held it up to me.

“It’s a good color for you,” she said. “Now up! There’s much to do. First a double wedding, and then an extravagant consummation feast.”

There was something wrong; I could feel it in the air. The trees whispered things from beyond the castle.
“Trouble,”
they wept.

My eyes slid to Oran. His mane shook.

“What will this mean for you?” I asked Reenah.

Sliding from the bed, I picked up the dress, eyeing it thoughtfully before slipping it over my shift. It was surprisingly comfortable, the material hugging my hips before cascading to the floor. There was no ornamentation, no beading, just a cascade of green satin. It had a round neckline that didn’t hint at curves, and yet it suited me.

Reenah’s gaze slid down my frame. “If Gabriella meant to make you look lesser, she has failed.”

I glanced down, my gaze catching the silver pendant at my neck. Reenah noticed it, but she didn’t comment. Her knowing blue eyes found my face.

“I will remain a consort. I have been in the palace since I was a child. Even with two wives, neither the prince nor his father will dismiss me. You worry for naught,” Reenah whispered, her elegant fingers finding my chin.

Heaving a sigh of relief, I straightened. It should be awkward standing here with Cadeyrn’s former lover, but I liked Reenah. If truth be told, I liked her a lot.

“Come,” she insisted, “the day doesn’t grow any younger.”

With those words, I followed, the gauzy scarf pinned to my head and left to drape down my back. It was meant to be worn over the face if preferred, a concession to the Henderonian women who had accompanied Catriona to Sadeemia, but I left mine back, my face open.

Under my skirts, I secured a dagger to my thigh. Reenah didn’t comment.

“Trouble,”
the trees sang.

The word traveled down my spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. Oran’s fur bristled. It was hard with the trees. Sometimes they saw something that worried them, but often they just felt it, their leaves shaking with grim horror.

It put me on edge, my gaze searching the shadowy hallways as we moved downstairs. Ryon followed us, his face grim and his jaw set. It was a sober day for a wedding. Even the sky seemed reluctant to celebrate. It was grey; low hanging clouds thick and full of moisture. The wind was sharp, leaving a tang of salt on the tongue.

“This seems wrong,” Maeve mumbled as she joined us, a guard I didn’t know at her back.

It wasn’t long before Daegan fell in step, Lochlen shadowing him. All of us wore green. We were in the minority in a sea of blue, lavender, and scarlet. Mothelamew’s words from the ball the night before haunted my steps.
Sometimes what seems like a brilliant idea is often one of folly.

Eerie silence filled the banquet halls. Noblemen in stunning tunics, and women in beautiful dresses and gauzy headpieces full of jewels, lined the marble floors. Their fingers, ears, and necks were covered in valuable baubles. The bell in the village beyond the palace continued to clang. The scene was too sober for a wedding.

“Something isn’t right,” Daegan breathed.

With sad eyes, Reenah glanced at us, her hands gesturing at the Hall of Light. There, inside the dim room, the grey clouds hovering over the glass ceiling, stood Cadeyrn. He wore a simple white tunic with a blue overcoat, emblazoned with a falcon. His leather breeches were black, his long mahogany hair pulled back by a leather thong. My half-brother, Gryphon, and the heir, Arien, stood next to him, their attire similar to Cadeyrn’s, their eyes downcast. The king and queen stood before them on the throne, their eyes on the entrance.

My gaze followed theirs to find Catriona and Gabriella, both of them resplendent in dresses that represented their cultures. Princess Catriona wore red, her fiery hair pulled up on top of her head and fastened by a gauzy scarlet scarf that fell over her face. Her crimson dress was covered in gold spherical designs, each one circling another all the way down to the hem. Around her neck, she wore a gold filigree necklace made of four globular knots.

Beside her, Princess Gabriella shone in a deep violet gown covered in silver beading. She wore her hair down, a silver tiara full of amethysts resting on the crown of her head. A simple amethyst sat nestled between her breasts. But it was the purple cloak attached to her dress that drew the eye. Down the back of the satin ran the image of a swan in silver beadwork. It was the crest of the Greemallian monarchy.

Together, the women stepped forward, stepping lightly, their faces even as they glided to the throne.

My fingers found Reenah’s sleeve. “But the wedding … I thought it wasn’t until midday.”

Reenah exhaled. “That is the announcement, but for the princesses’ safety, the announcement was false. A wedding open to the public is fraught with too much danger for anyone associated with Prince Cadeyrn.”

My hand found my stomach, my fingers clenching the green satin that covered it. The princesses moved past, each of them glancing at us. Their steps faltered, and I realized they’d caught a glimpse of the silver pendant hanging around my neck. Momentary surprise flitted across Catriona’s gauze-covered face before her attention snapped back to the throne. Gabriella’s jaw tightened in anger.

I started to reach for the silver chain, but Lochlen’s hand suddenly covered mine. “Don’t,” he muttered. “Leave it.”

The procession continued, the princesses coming to a stop before the dais. They knelt, their heads bowed. King Freemont’s gaze swept the room before drawing his sword. With simple, elegant movements, he let the broad side of the gleaming weapon hover carefully above each of the women’s heads before stepping back. A holy man from Henderonia replaced him, his scarlet silk tunic the color of dark blood in the dim room.

Servants moved silently, lighting globes full of the murky liquid Sadeemia seemed famous for. Lamp oil. Before long, flames flickered inside the glass casements. In the distance, thunder rumbled, an ominous sound that mingled with the clanging bell from the village temple.

“It’s like attending a funeral,” Maeve whispered.

Her fingers found mine, and our hands clasped. Chills ran down my spine. Daegan moved closer, his looming figure shadowing us as his hands found the small of our backs. I didn’t check to see if Lochlen remained near. The dragon would observe any way he chose to observe, his eerie eyes taking in everything.

“Trouble,”
the trees sang, their rough voice mingling with the thunder. Mothelamew’s warning echoed.
Sometimes what seems like a brilliant idea is often one of folly.

Inhaling sharply, I whispered, “He can’t do this.”

Oran dug himself against my skirts. “Don’t, Phoenix. It’s the only way. As wrong as it feels right now,
this
is the only way. We have a war to fight, and Sadeemia has two allied countries to appease. It is the only way.”

I glanced down at the wolf, my eyes meeting his black pupils before moving to the throne, my free hand digging ever deeper into the satin covering my abdomen.

Maeve leaned toward me. “Are you okay, Stone?”

Prince Cadeyrn looked up, his gaze catching mine before sliding to the silver pendant encircling my neck. A corner of his lips twitched, his eyes finding mine once more. There was something in his gaze, a deep understanding I couldn’t discern.

My nails bit through the dress’s fabric. Swallowing hard, I tore my gaze away from the prince just as his gaze dropped to my stomach.

The trees whispered, but instead of ominous words, it sounded like rough sobbing. They wept, their cries filling my frame and causing my breath to hitch.

“Stone?” Daegan breathed. His hand tightened on my back.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

Maeve’s hand clenched mine. “It feels wrong.”

The Henderonian holy man was speaking now, his hands lifted to the small crowd. I could only assume these nobles were trusted men and women of the king and the princesses. Strange words floated on the air. I spoke many languages, but Henderonian wasn’t one of them.

“He’s binding them to each other and to their gods,” Reenah spoke quietly next to us. I glanced at her, and she smiled. “It is a simple ceremony. The Henderonians do not have lavish weddings. Their extravagant gatherings are reserved for holy days.” More strange words were spoken, and Reenah’s hand suddenly covered mine on my stomach, her fingers gently prying mine loose. “It is done.”

The nobles filed from the hall toward a grand dining room reserved for guests. The smell of sumptuous foods filtered through the area.

“We will feast all day,” Reenah announced.

At the front of the Hall of Light, Cadeyrn led the princesses away from the dais to a doorway leading to a back stairwell. Men and women followed them, including the holy man.

“They’ll each be taken upstairs to separate rooms,” Reenah explained. “And then Cadeyrn will be expected to visit each of them under the watchful eye of Henderonia’s hallowed brother of the gods.”

Maeve gasped.

Reenah glanced at her. “It is important for royal alliances that newlyweds make love in front of witnesses. It seals contracts and promises the possibility of children, of heirs.”

Above the glass ceiling, lightning flashed, followed by a loud clap of thunder. Beyond the castle walls, the trees continued to weep, the sound echoed by the clanging Serenity Bell. Maybe the people of Sadeemia were right. Maybe it was wrong for the prince to turn his back on his gods.

Lochlen stepped between me and the sight of Cadeyrn’s disappearing back.

“Come,” Reenah insisted. “The couples will return after the consummation to imbibe in the feast.”