Chapter Twenty-One

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

LITTLE DOVES

C as walked me back to my chamber, silent the entire way. I sensed I should not press him, that his rage kept him ensnared, dangerous. I didn’t remember him like this. He was always the calm one, never riled, never had anger bubbling under the surface like many males did. He was a carefree boy when I knew him.

Things had changed for both of us.

“Have your maid dress you in dinner-wear,” he said when we reached my door. “I assume you don’t want to meet your mother with your breasts out.” He said the last part with joking intent, but I flinched anyway. Then he brought his lips to my hand, brushing them over my skin, a whisper of a kiss. He made to let go, but I held on. So much felt the same, yet so much changed in the boy I’d known. I wanted to know why.

“What happened to you after I… left?”

His guarded eyes seemed to soften. “It was a long seven years, mi karus . You may remember me sweet as a dove, but that’s because you balanced me. When I had to accept your death, well, I certainly fought that idea for a time. I was young. I didn’t understand why someone would want to hurt you. But eventually, I did. I came to see the evil that weighs against the good. And my world changed. I lived in a world where you no longer existed, and that made it feel like my place in it was… well, different. I didn’t want to be the dove anymore.”

I don’t know if it was the nostalgia of our childhood or the brokenness in his voice, but I reached up and laid my palm on his smooth, clean-shaven face. I searched his eyes, and I kissed his cheek, soft and hesitant, like we were still kids in the woods. And he kissed mine back for a moment, but then pulled away, his guard up once more. He shook his head, a wry smile spreading over his face, and murmured, “I’m not a little dove anymore, Terra. Remember that.”

And then he left. I stood alone at my door, wondering not for the first time about my world and my place in it.

Olea stood ready, a plethora of evening gowns laid out on the bed in front of her or hung from the armoire and other creative places. I paid little attention to them.

“Olea, what’s a binding?” She threw me a suspicious glance as she busied herself laying out the jewels that matched each dress. “Et esna a common theng, te be sure. Why’d ye ask?”

“I heard some courtiers talking about it, and if I’m to be a Fae princess, don’t you think I should know what everyone is talking about…?” I ran my fingers down one of the bodices, hoping to seem interested in the clothes more than the binding.

“Aye me lady, aye. The bindin’ only happens durin’ a couplin’, which es when two Fae join their magic durin’ intimacy. The couplin’ doesna go wrong, per-say, but them magics like each other too much, ye see? They’re too powerful together, so the magics decide te never part. They bind . And then the couple—their very souls—are bound fer eternity. For ef one en the bindin’ es hurt, so es the other. And ef one en the bindin’ dies, well so does the other,” she said, giving her last few words the drama of a folklore reading for small children.

So it’s… a death bond? What in the bizarre Fae-Witch world ? —

“From what I’ve heard, et can only be a High Fae, one w’ real old magic, that can bind. Ets also been said et can only happen between Salanti, but et happens so rare, ye see, I dinna know for sure.”

My head swam. “How do you know for sure when a binding happens? And what is… salami?”

She laughed out loud, deep from her belly. “Well, salami es a cured cut a’ pork, ver’ good w’ cheese. Salanti ,” she emphasized, “es a title. Et means Match— like yer soul’s twin . Ye canna know ef yer Salanti without a blood sharin’, which es part a’ the Matchin’ ceremony. Ef yer blood grows stronger together, then yer Match es true—and yer Salanti. Usually, ets quite romantic and ends en a marital pact, but not always. Et gives the two special abilities, ye see, te share thoughts an’ senses and the like.”

I furrowed my brow. The concept of romantic partnerships blessed by special abilities and cemented in sharing blood was unfamiliar—I didn’t think I learned about it as a child. Had Viturius and the Rexi been Salanti?

“Do you have a Salanti?”

Olea shook her head, her eyes wistful. “Ets rare. Not near as rare as a bindin’, but rare. Many search fer a proper Match an’ never find em’.”

“And the binding,” I prompted, directing her back to my unanswered question. “How do you know for sure if it’s done?”

“They say ye’ll know because each well have a little bet of the other—a special mark a’ some kind,” she answered. “Oh, me almost forgot! Stay where ye are, I’ll be right back. Me hath a surprise for ye te wear tonight.”

Olea scurried out of the room, and I stood there, one hand on the bedpost, one hanging on my stomach, breathing in and out as slowly as I could to remain calm. I bunched up my chiffon skirt in one arm and folded the lace undergarment back with my other hand, extending my left leg forward. And sure enough, though I’d started to doubt my memory, one shimmering green Dragon scale lay imprinted there, right on top of my hipbone.

That explained my unnatural bruising. What Ezren felt, I felt. His pain was mine.

Now that I knew its significance, the slight burning from the scale turned into more of a gentle searing sensation. I wondered how Olea hadn’t seen it before, but I guessed she wasn’t watching me all that closely when I stepped naked into the tub.

Olea put me in a gown of green satin, long-sleeved and simple, to my relief. It still pushed my breasts to my chin and nearly suffocated my waist, but at least it fully covered my midsection and legs. She wiped my face and recast the paint on my cheeks and lips, leaving my eyes with less kohl than before. She brushed my hair out long and let it fall in waves around me. Finally, she placed a simple crown on my head, not much more than a band of gold two fingers wide. As soon as it rested there, I felt a gentle vibration. Olea turned me to the mirror, and I watched flowering spill out of the crown. Vines and blooming buds traveled down my hair and all across my dress, adorning the fabric. The pattern swirled and moved with my breath against the swish of my gown. The largest blossoms gathered at the hem, but other than that, the image never appeared to still. I was a living garden, the Earth incarnate.

“How?” I didn’t normally enjoy dresses, but this one warranted appreciation.

Olea shook her head, admiring her work in the mirror. “I dinna know, lassia. I only heard that Cas brought et back after one a’ hes great adventures. Supposed te display the wearer’s power, should he or she be worthy. Et looks splended on ye.”

I took one last look at my image and exhaled. Flowers streaked my hair, and hues of orange, fuchsia, and deep red traveled around my green covered body.

“Olea, what is the queen like?” I asked, fiddling with the large purple rock that sparkled on my finger. When I first met Olea, she mentioned the Rexi had never been on Fae land before—maybe that’s why I didn’t remember her.

“The Rexi?”

I nodded. If she thought the question strange, she didn’t show it.

“I dinna know much, mess. Formidable, te be sure. She only arrived but a few days before ye, and she rare attends banquet.”

The Rexi arrived a few days before me. Having never been on Fae land in her life.

She knew I was coming.

Olea led me to the top of the grand stairs that emptied into the foyer. Cas waited there, casually leaning against a stone pillar. He’d tied his dark hair low at the nape of his neck, and he wore a simple black warrior’s jacket with a few buttons undone, revealing the contours of his chest and a few swirling lines of a tattoo. His eyes glinted upon my approach, admiring the gold on my head and the purple on my finger. He bowed, hinging low at the waist. Before I could attempt a curtsey, he reached up to my hair and plucked a purple iris. He fastened it to his jacket and a dazzling smile stretched over his features.

The prince turned and extended his arm to lead me down the staircase. I placed my hand on his biceps, signaling a pause.

“We need to talk.”

“Oh dear, that sounds ominous,” he said back casually.

“I asked Olea what the binding is.”

He closed his eyes and inhaled. “You don’t need to worry about that. I have the best minds in Viribrum working out how to undo it. And until then, Ezren won’t be going anywhere. Nothing will happen to you, mi karus . I promise.”

I shifted my weight. Though he’d intended his words for comfort, they addressed the wrong concern. “That wasn’t really what I meant, Cas. Olea also told me about the Salanti thing. That the binding may only happen if the two are… meant to be Matched, or whatever.”

Cas’s face turned serious. “Salanti is an antiquated concept—one that cannot be proven without blood sharing, which is now a choice for females in this court,” he snorted. “There was a time when it was not, when each suspected Salanti would have been forced to blood share and Match to see if their blood strengthened. Be grateful we live in more modern times, mi karus. While the binding is something completely out of our control, choosing to Match—choosing to cement that partnership—is not.”

“Is there another way to test it? Without choosing to ‘cement the partnership’? If I am supposedly meant to be Matched with someone, that feels like important information for us…” I drifted off, feeling transparent. A primal part of me needed to know if Ezren was my Match, even though I understood little of what it meant. But what good would knowing do? If we weren’t Salanti, then the blood sharing would do nothing. And if we were…

Cas interrupted my spiraling thoughts. “There is an imprecise way to tell. It is said when Salanti find each other they omit a… potent smell to attract the other. Supposedly, the scent is fairly undetectable to the couple, almost subconscious, but god awful to those around them. There is another matter of Salanti being able to communicate mind to mind that is a tell, but it typically manifests after the blood sharing.”

A memory of Leiya commenting on my scent flashed through my mind. A moment later, I saw the image of Ezren standing in a river, his shirt sticking to his skin, telling me I’d called for him when the Earth split.

If I had been unmoving before, I was a statue from the palace halls now.

“But,” Cas continued, “I scented nothing of that nature omitted from either of you earlier in the dungeon, and I’m pretty sure you’d know if he could read your thoughts.” Cas lifted my chin, his fingers just grazing my skin. “I would put it out of your mind, mi karus . Likely your heritage wanted to bind, nothing more.”

I chewed my bottom lip, unsure if that sentiment confused me more or less. Putting the Ezren thoughts aside, I refocused on the immediate issue. Dinner.

“Also… my mother. The Rexi. What is she doing here, Cas? She never bothered to come to Viribrum before, as far as I can remember. What does she want from me?”

Cas’s snort rang hollow. “Now that I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.” Something more lingered in his gaze.

I did my best to look afraid and timid rather than the angry and confused I felt. “And what about Fayzien? No matter what Gia says, I know he hurt me, Cas. In Argention, he stripped me naked and sent his power through me. And I have strong reason to believe he killed the family that raised me.”

Cas’s mouth formed a grim line, the lack of shock on his face leaving me stunned. “Yes, don’t worry, I’m dealing with him, too.” The confirmation that it was Fayzien who murdered my family sent a burning trail down my throat. But before I could say another word, he took my arm in his and led me down the stairs. We veered to the left, the doors of the great banquet swinging open before us.

As we walked into the hall, a mustached servant tapped his staff to the ground, and the reveling quieted. He announced us by name and title, and we walked through the crowds of courtiers that were bustling with excitement a moment before. This transported me right back to Spring Day. Except instead of the Matron guiding me through the chaos, Cas did. This time I was even more picked over, like a prized mare being led to auction. The hall glittered with rows of long candle-laden tables that led up to one horizontal head table facing them all on a dais. Cas noticed me eyeing it and whispered in my ear, ‘The table of the crown.’ In the middle sat the king, Darlan. And next to him, his honored guest. The Rexi Neferti, Queen of Nebbiolo. My birth mother.

The silence became near deafening by the time we approached them. Cas unwound my arm from his and bowed deeply, shooting me a look on the way up. I took the hint and curtsied, extending my right foot far behind and touching my knee to the ground. I dipped my head in deference and let my emerald satin skirts pool all around me on the stone floor, at which point the magic running over my dress developed a mind of its own. The vines that traveled down my skirts extended beyond the hem in an instant, parting slightly at the root and hissing like dozens of forked snake tongues seething at a threat. My mouth fell ajar at the malice of it, and I stood in a hurry. The silence grew louder.

The queen regarded me with shrewd study, revealing nothing on her face. But then, in a relieving moment, the king laughed, said something to welcome us, and gestured to the band to resume playing.

I let out a breath, and Cas guided me up to the table. The revelers acted preoccupied, complying with the king’s subtle order to sway with the music, but I felt hundreds of eyes on me. The queen rose, her iridescent silver gown swaying as she stood. She brought each of her hands to my cheeks, pressing her unnaturally long, gleaming chrome nails into my face.

“Terragnata, at last, you have returned. What a joyous moment it is when a mother can look upon her grown daughter, a sight I thought I would never be blessed with,” she said, her voice full of warmth and soothing calm, which did not meet her eyes. Before I could open my mouth to speak, she drew me into her, and placed her lips to each cheek, leaving a sticky sensation that indicated the red of her lip stain remained.

The awkwardness and wonder of meeting her overwhelmed me. She was the woman who bore me, who brought me into the world. But beyond the softness in the curves of her face and the color of her hair, I could sense no genuine connection between us. She had not raised me, not as a child nor an adolescent. I felt a wrongness in her I couldn’t place.

Cas pulled back my chair, and I sat on her right. Cas joined the king on his left, and we were two children again, at the elbows of our life-givers.

“Mother,” I said, looking at her out of the corner of my eye whilst surveying the room. “How long has it been? Over fifteen years?” I asked, feigning innocence in my tone. If she hadn’t ever been on Fae land, I guessed the last time I saw her was when I left Nebbiolo as a child.

Her saccharine smile dripped with contempt. “Yes daughter, fifteen exactly, I believe, as I recall your birthday is soon. Twenty, you will be, and I last saw you when you left Nebbiolo, just a few days into your fifth year.”

The king chimed in. “Oh, Terra, it is good to have you back! So splendid that you will turn twenty soon. It is not usually a day of marked celebration, you may remember, due to its insignificance in the context of a Fae lifespan. Fifty, now that is a celebration year I will never forget. But since you have just arrived, I would relish the excuse to throw a gala in your honor.”

“How sweet an offer, Your Majesty. But I am afraid we will be departed by the day. It is time Terra returns to her birth country,” the Rexi said with false regret.

I bristled at her audacity, but before I could protest, Cas jumped in. “What a lovely idea it is to allow Terra the opportunity to explore her homeland. But, I am afraid that won’t be possible, given she must stay here to plan the nuptials. And the Sk?l, of course.”

“You can’t be serious,” the queen said, gaping at Cas, an expression I guessed she didn’t wear often.

I furrowed my brow, ignoring the word nuptials, something needling at my memory. “What is the Sk?l?”

“I’m afraid he isn’t joking, Neferti,” the king said. “We had originally agreed to forgo the Sk?l, I know, as a favor to secure our alliance. But that was when we thought Terra would mature in this land. Terra has been gone a long while, in terms of her formative years. The people don’t know her; she is not much more than a foreign Nebbiolon Witch. And many vied for Cas’s hand in the time she was gone. Custom must be upheld,” he said firmly.

“What is the Sk?l?” I repeated.

King Darlan turned to me. “The Sk?l is an ancient tradition where Fae females compete for the hand of the future king. It is a wonderful competition of might, beauty, and skill. It is how my beloved late wife, Agustina, won my hand. May she rest in peace. Don’t worry, Terra, I have no doubt you will best them all,” he finished with a wink.

“And if I lose, then I don’t marry Cas?” I asked, attempting to hide my relief. I could barely tell truth from lies, and I certainly was not ready to commit my life to someone I no longer knew. And there was the matter of my green-eyed Fae, whom I’d yet to forgive, but also yet to forget.

Cas narrowed his eyes at me, no doubt reading my expression, and replied, “Yes, assuming you lost in a way that left you alive . Some of the events are quite brutal. Not all the competitors survive, and many eliminations occur by… physically besting the opponents.”

I stared at him, recovering after a moment. “You mean killing,” I said flatly.

Cas nodded, looking only a little regretful and not nearly as perturbed as I knew I did. The thought of having to slaughter others for Cas’s hand made me ill. “And what if I am not ready to be married?”

At that, the three of them gaped at me like I’d spoken blasphemy.

My mother cut in, her voice low and sharp. “Terragnata, it is not a matter of being ready. It is a matter of duty. It is time Witch and Fae unite. Wouldn’t you agree, Darlan?”

“And what of the matter that I am bound to another?” I said before the king could reply.

The king choked on his food, and Cas’s eyes enlarged with swift, unforgiving rage. But the queen looked unruffled. “That will be dealt with, my dear; it is not of your concern.”

The silky way she said those last words sent a shiver down my spine. An idea popped in my head, unannounced. “Why don’t you just marry King Darlan if you’re so eager to cement ties between Fae and Witch? Are you not both widowed? What a powerful match it would be,” I said, fighting the petulance that worked its way into my tone.

Once again, the king choked on his food, and Cas’s eyes threatened to bulge from his head. The Rexi just laughed and said, “Child, your na?vety betrays you. It is not simply your union with Cas that is required; it is the heir that you will produce, the heir that will be of both bloods. While I would be honored to accept an offer from King Darlan, I am afraid I am much too old to bear a babe once more.”

She smirked at me, so dismissive in response, so satisfied in expression. I rose, pushing my chair back, and the noise of it drew some eyes to me from the crowd. I descended to the front of the dais and curtsied just short of kissing the floor. This time, the vines, which had roiled around me, stilled. “I beg your leave, Your Majesties; I am feeling tired after such an eventful day.” Before I turned to go, I caught Cas’s eye. Pure bewilderment had replaced the anger on his face.

Good. I wasn’t the only one who was no longer a little dove.