Chapter 16

Tara

The great dining hall is wall-to-wall wood, with the exception of the stone around the fireplaces: one for each wall. It"s cozy here, and nothing like I thought it would be. For some reason, I was picturing aggressive dogs racing around fighting over the food the savage shifters threw on the floor, while the shifters drank until they were stumbling about the room.

Instead, it's not scary, it's just different. It"s all warmth where everything at the coven is cold. It"s all wood and natural where my home was just stone. For some reason, I think I like it.

I've never been in a room with this many men before though. The long table is literally just full of men, at least two dozen of them. I recognize some of the faces, but there are a few faces I"ve never seen before too. Prince Arlys, Prince Drogo, and Prince Rinan are seated near the end of the table, all three of them freshly showered and in their finest clothes.

Wow, they look incredible. Fabric was not meant to cling to muscle like that, I'm sure of it, or women everywhere would be too busy running into walls while gaping at the incredible display.

Licking my lips, I try to look away, but I can't. Prince Arlys looks noble, every inch of him. I've never met a fae before, but with his long black hair, brilliant green eyes, and toned body, I would believe him if he said he was one. Prince Rinan combines sweet and sexy like no one I've ever seen in my life. When I read stories about far off princes in my books as a girl, I pictured someone like him. Strong, with high cheekbones, perfect blond hair, and dripping with sexual prowess. He's just plain… yummy.

And then there's Prince Drogo. He's hot. There's no denying it. He has the energy of a wild animal you really want to tame, but not too much.

Stop staring. What's wrong with you? They don't even like you.

Before I can take a breath, their gazes move to me, and I stand up a little straighter, my body tightening. Their expressions are impossible to read, and I wonder what they're thinking. Three remarkably beautiful men married to someone as plain as me. Does seeing me disappoint them? Or do they not care enough to be disappointed?

"Don't be nervous," Lady Scarlet whispers beside me, patting my arm.

Every muscle in my body is tense. "Easier said than done."

This time, she squeezes my arm, and the movement would be reassuring if the three men weren't still staring at me. Assessing me. Judging me and finding me lacking.

When they look away from me, I release a slow breath. My gaze moves to the end of the table, and, of course, there"s the king in all his glory.

Except, he's not all that glorious.

From the descriptions I"ve been told, I expected the king to be a giant of a warrior who would exact death upon all of his enemies. He was bigger than life in my imagination, and deadlier than any one being should be. But the man sitting at the head of the table… is not that. He's the opposite. His face is gaunt, and he"s all skin and bones, like he has dwindled away to almost nothingness.

There's no doubt in my mind that he"s sick, deathly ill. I've only seen one person as sickly-looking as him before, and he didn't make it long after he started to waste away like that. Just the sight of the king has my eyes stinging and my pulse racing.

"We need to make your introductions to the king first," she whispers.

Like hell…

Lady Scarlet, still holding my hand, steers us straight for the king, even though I have the unbelievably strong urge to walk the other way. Somehow, I wasn't prepared to see sickness and death. Not here in a place of strong men, who I thought were immune to sickness.

Stay calm. Stay focused. Don't let the past pull you into the darkness of your mind.

I drag my feet, but she's strong, and gigantic compared to my much smaller frame. And before I know it, I'm standing before him. The king of the Talon Pack.

His dark eyes meet mine, and I try not to flinch as they pin me in place. He's assessing me, so I assess him. He has black hair, like Prince Arlys, only his is weaved with more gray than black, and his hair is pulled back at his nape. His gray-black beard is short and neatly trimmed. I can almost picture him as a healthy, young shifter, and I realize that if he was, he'd look remarkably like Prince Arlys.

He places a hand on the table and another on the back of his chair and determination lights his eyes. He pushes himself up to stand so painfully slowly that I'm dying to leap forward and help him up, but I hold myself in place, committed to making a good impression.

When he comes to his full height, a hush falls over the room. He painstakingly adjusts his legs steady enough to hold his body up without the use of his hands. When he's done, he reaches out for me, and I offer him my hand. He takes it in his, which is surprisingly both soft and calloused.

"You look so much like your mother," he tells me, his voice loud and booming, not matching the withered, sickly body it inhabits.

I speak without thinking. "We might look alike, but we're as different as night and day."

He studies me. I don't know what he's trying to find, but I hope he does realize I'm not like any other witch he's ever encountered–in a good way, because the only time shifters meet witches is when we're Battle Witches trying to kill them. And me? I'm definitely not that.

"Do you have any siblings?" he asks.

"None," I answer.

I can practically see him filing that information away. "Does your mother often talk about peace with the shifters?"

"Never. At least until this deal was struck," I tell him honestly.

It's hard to tell what he thinks of that. "Was your mother concerned about sending you here?"

"No," I say, then decide to add on for good measure, "she knows I can take care of myself."

Okay, so that's not entirely true. She mostly just doesn't care if I can take care of myself or not, but I'm not about to tell a shifter king that. Let them think I'm powerful. Let them assume my mother cares about me.

"You will do nothing to hurt my people while you're on our lands," he tells me, and his voice holds absolute certainty. The certainty of a king.

"As long as they do nothing to hurt me," I say firmly.

To my surprise, a slight smile lifts his mouth. "You're an honest thing, aren't you?"

"I pride myself on being so painfully honest that people would sooner avoid my company," I say.

"An honest witch and one with a sense of humor? Now I've seen everything," he mumbles.

As I stare back at him, I can see the warrior he used to be. It's in the intensity of his gaze. If he could, he'd still be out battling whomever stood in his way.

"Please." He waves to a seat between him and Prince Arlys. Prince Drogo and Prince Rinan are across from us.

I don't want to sit, but I give a weak smile and do as I'm asked.

He struggles into his seat, and I can see the exhaustion in his face from just standing and talking to me. My thoughts turn as I consider his condition. Shifters aren't sickly from what my mother has told me. They don't get sick at all. If there was something that could make them sick, my mother would have already used that knowledge against them. Nothing that I know of plagues them, but this elder, this king, is clearly unwell. How is that possible?

Dinner is served, and the dishes that are passed around the table all look and smell delicious. There are roasted meats and vegetables, meat pies, stews, and delicate-looking fruit tarts and pastries. I want to taste everything, so as each dish comes around, I take a small portion and put it on my plate until my plate is completely full of spoonfuls of food.

"How was the journey here?" the king asks me. He isn't eating, just sitting and watching me.

Princes Arlys, Rinan, and Drogo all dart their eyes to me, making me feel nervous. I wonder if they think I'm going to bring up how cold and unkind they were to me or how they ignored me for the entire four-day journey. They'd deserve it if I did.

But I won't. I have more foresight than to anger my future husbands.

"It was exhausting. That's a lot of terrain to travel, and the Deadly Passage was very intense." I chance a look at Prince Arlys. Our gazes catch, but he quickly turns away.

Lady Scarlet joins our conversation, sitting at Prince Drogo's side. "Prince Arlys told me about the Valknut you created with your magic at the Deadly Passage. Wish I could have seen it!"

I smile sheepishly. "I wish you could too." I don't want to talk about my magic at all here. I'm here for peace, not for magic.

"I've heard that witches have magical specialties. What is yours?" the king asks me.

For a second time, the room silences. Do I lie? Should I claim to be some powerful Battle Witch? No, they'd learn the truth sooner or later; best to be as honest as I can be.

"Um…" I clear my throat and take a sip of my water. "I worked a lot with the blacksmith back home. Metal is my specialty, I guess." I quickly pick up some broccoli and shove it in my mouth to buy time before answering follow up questions.

"But she can do more than that," Lady Scarlet gushes. "She fixed my dress.

A few men seem to hide laughs behind coughs. Okay, yeah, I know that's not super impressive, but it's not laughable.

"Did you do that in the castle?" Prince Drogo asks gruffly, his brown eyes full of anger.

"No, I did it in the lake," I tell him, before I can stop myself.

He glares. "There's no way in fuck you should be doing magic in the castle–"

"Drogo," Prince Arlys says, a warning in his voice.

"What? Witches don't just fix dresses. One minute it'll be the dress, and the next she'll be setting us on fire."

"Is that how you'd like to go out?" I ask him sweetly.

His eyes widen and anger rolls off of him in waves.

Prince Rinan laughs beside him. "Would you calm yourself? She fixed a dress, not burned the castle down."

"It wasn't a big deal," Lady Scarlet says, irritation in her voice.

The king surprises me by speaking, his voice low and commanding. "You are welcome to do magic here, Princess Tara, but no Battle Magic. Do we understand each other?"

"We do," I tell him easily.

Our meal resumes. Prince Drogo eats his meal like he's trying to punish it, and I try to focus instead on Prince Arlys, who eats like, well, a prince, and Prince Rinan, who eats like this is his last meal ever. I have to force myself not to smile. Who knew watching people eat would tell you so much about them?

"What do you know about the peace treaty?" the king asks me, and my focus returns to him. That intensity is back in his eyes.

I answer honestly. "I don't know much. I just know that I'm your Peace Bride. At least that's what my mother so carefully explained to me right before the princes walked in the room, married me, and walked out." I suck in a quick breath and lower my head. I don't think I was supposed to say it like that, regardless of if that's exactly how it happened.

A few of the men around the table chuckle, while others quiet down and look at me with concern. Scarlet squints at me. I bet her mom never would have sold her off to be a peace bride.

"We expected you to be told more," the king tells me gently. "We knew you wouldn't have long before the marriage, but we expected… more empathy than that."

"From my mother?" I ask, lifting my brows. "She's a great queen, but she's not exactly the picture of empathy."

The king gives a small smile. "Our warriors are different off the battlefield. I guess we expected the same for your people."

I don't know what to say. Are shifters nicer than witches? No way. Right?

The king opens his mouth to say more, but a series of coughs shakes his body instead. He uses his arm to cover his cough, but everyone at the table seems to shrink inside of themselves every time he coughs.

He clears his throat after his coughing fit subsides and speaks. "Now that peace has been struck, I guess the passage won't be called the Deadly Passage anymore."

I nod, smiling. "That's good. That name is so foreboding. I was scared just going through it myself."

He clears his throat, and we wait for another coughing fit to commence. He pauses his speech for a spell, then continues. "It will never again have warriors pass through, only peace officials. If all goes well." There's a lull, and it feels like he wants me to respond.

Okay, Tara, keep things light and friendly. "Of course! No need for warriors when we've agreed to peace on both sides." I offer a bright smile in response.

"We discussed starting trade with the witches." He gives me a cautious smile. "Both sides have called their spies back to their own lands."

"That sounds very peaceful to me!" I say cheerily. This treaty sounds great. If it lasts.

The king stares at me, waiting. The whole table waits.

Oh, fuck, do I need to say more?"I'm happy this treaty will finally bring both sides the peace that's been missing for so many generations." I clasp my hands in front of me, satisfied with my statement.

Everyone seems to deflate when I'm done speaking. Is being happy about peace wrong? Should I be upset?

The king turns his attention from me to Prince Arlys. "Son, have there been any more reports of the Illness spreading?"

Illness? "What illness?"

Humans get sick. The rest of us? Not so much. The shifters shouldn't know anything of illness, even though there's clearly something going on with the king.

The king's expression grows grave, and his gaze holds mine. "The Illness is a disease sweeping through our lands. It started two years ago, and is growing more deadly with each day that passes, claiming more and more of our elderly."

I stare, my thoughts swimming. "I don't understand. An illness that affects shifters? How is that possible? Where does it come from?"

He studies me for a long moment before continuing. "Princess Tara, do you appreciate being given honesty as much as you enjoy giving it?"

"Yes."

"I thought so." He takes a deep breath. "The reason we wanted you as the Peace Bride is to use your magical abilities to find the cause of this illness and cure it."

A general note of agreement sounds throughout the dining hall. All of the men are looking at each other and nodding.

Except, I feel like I'm going to throw up. Cure an illness? Me?

"Peace in exchange for life," Prince Arlys says confidently.

More people murmur in agreement, but then all eyes are on me. My mind seems to be working slowly. The shifters have an illness they want cured and they expect… me to be the one to save them? Me? They want me, Princess Tara, to cure a disease that plagues their people? That makes no sense at all. There are several dozen witches back home alone who could probably figure it out.

I'm not among the people who can do it.

They really did get the bum end of this deal with me.

"If your abilities are just half of what your mother described to us, then you'll be the answer to our prayers. You'll be the savior to our people." The king stares at me with hope glistening in his eyes.

Meanwhile, my stomach is in a knot. My abilities? She convinced him that I had enough power to not only sniff out the disease, but to also eradicate it. Fucking hell. My mother has set me up to fail. She knows I can't do this, and when the shifters realize that, I'll be dead, the treaty will be over, and the war will begin again.

It's weird. I'm shaking. Partially with fear and partially with anger. I knew my mom hated me, but I never would have expected… this. I mean, what the hell is the point in all of this if she never wanted the treaty to last? A flick of my mother's wrist would lead to my death, so that couldn't have been her only goal.

I almost laugh at how ridiculous that is, but I'm too horrified. These shifters all have the same look of hope in their eyes, and it's all directed at me. My magic might not be able to save them, but it's clear I have to do something to save them, or fall for my mother's trap.

"And that's why this marriage happened?" I ask. My voice is soft, but at least I keep the horror out of it.

"Yes," the king says easily.

I look at Princes Rinan, Drogo, and Arlys. There's no question in their gazes, only acceptance. This is why they married me. The only reason.

"So that's what I'll be working on – curing this illness?"

There's a series of nods from them that only make my stomach sink further.

"If not, though, there's really no need for you," Prince Drogo says with a glint in his eyes, before grabbing a sip of his ale.

I'm going to puke.

"Stop it," Prince Rinan says. "You're scaring her."

Prince Drogo grins at me, leaning closer, his dark eyes full of merriment for the first time since I met him. "Notice he didn't say I was wrong." And then he inhales deeply, slowly. His gaze moves over me and lingers on my chest.

My heart races. There's no way he wants me. He's trying to fuck with my mind. So, I'll fuck with his too. "Don't worry. I'm not scared; I'm eager for the challenge." I wish my voice hadn't shaken when I said the words, but at least I had said them.

He inhales again, shudders, and pulls away from me.

My hands are curled into fists, and I can't will them to relax. Did I just accept that I'm going to save the shifters?