Chapter 8

Tara

The ballroom practically pulses with energy at the news of my betrothal to the shifter…shifters? My mind starts working as the word shifters pops into my mind. Don't they usually share their female? At least that's what the rumors say.

No. Nope. I can't handle that.

I bite my lip to keep the tears of betrayal at bay. My mom did this to me. She basically sold me to them for peace. Can she even trust them after a century of fighting? What if they decide to take me to their lands, then wage war again? I'd be the only witch with them. I'd be in enemy territory alone.

I feel empty inside and numb. This has to be a dream.

That's it. I'm dreaming. It's the night before the ceremony, and I'm just still asleep.I close my eyes and will myself to wake up, even pinching myself to make it happen. But when I open my eyes, I'm still standing on the ballroom stage while my whole coven teems with excitement about my pending nuptials.

But they wouldn't be excited if it was anyone other than me. Shifters are cruel, heartless beasts. My shifter husband is just as likely to marry me, kill me outside the castle walls, and then pretend I'm still at his side to keep the peace agreement.

What will my life even be like with one of those beasts?

Tears prick my eyes, and I try to blink them away. All the other witches have left the stage, leaving me alone with my mother. My mother who is waving and smiling at the crowd, like she's just done something fantastic.

I grab her sleeve and pull.

She gives me a dirty look as she glances back at me.

"Please," I say. "I need to talk to you."

I can't read her face, but I hear her sigh as she walks me down the steps of the stage and pulls me into a shadowy corner. "What is it?"

"Mom, I can't do this." The words leave my mouth before I even think about what I'm saying.

She stares at me, her dark eyes merciless. "So, I can go to war with those miserable fucking beasts time and time again to keep you safely at home, but you can't do this one fucking thing for me? Is that what I'm hearing?"

My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. "I appreciate everything you've done for me–"

"Do you? I've bled on the battlefield. I've had teeth and claws tear through flesh and muscle. I've seen my best friends die, your coven members, and I've done it all without a word of complaint."

This isn't going the way I want it to. "I understand, but I can't marry a shifter."

Her nostrils flare. "What else do you think you're good for? Honestly, Tara, ask yourself that question. I gave you everything in life. Even after your father passed, I made sure you had the best tutors, best meals, nicest clothes, and finest jewelry, and you thanked me for all of that by becoming less than mediocre."

I understand. I do. My mom had so many plans and dreams, and I ruined them for her. I was never the daughter she wanted me to be. I get it. But what she's asking, it's too much. Isn't it? I shouldn't have to give up my whole life because I'm a disappointment.

"Mom, the shifters are cruel and dangerous. You said so yourself. If you marry me to one of them, I'll be brought back to their lands. And what happens if war breaks out between our people again with me surrounded by them?"

She sneers. "Me. Me. Me. That's all you ever think about. What about your people?"

I clasp my hands together. My heart seems to know this is all wrong, but everything she says makes it clear that she's right and I'm wrong. "I would do almost anything for my people, but not this."

"It doesn't matter what you say you will or won't do, because you're doing this."

"Mom–"

Her lips pull into a thin line. "Don't make me out to be the villain in this. I made a deal with the shifters that will save the lives of countless witches. You, a princess, can offer nothing to your people except this. What I am is a hero, and while you might be a bad witch, I will not allow you to be a bad princess to your people."

She's right. But then I think about all the stories I've heard about shifters. About their sharp teeth and claws. About their blood red eyes and their thirst for death. No, I can't do this. I need to find a way to undo this. Something else to bargain with to make peace with the shifters.

I take a deep breath. "If you've ever loved me, please find a way out of this for me."

She reaches forward, and I'm hopeful for a half second before she pinches my arm roughly, biting into the flesh and not letting go. "How many times do I have to tell you, love is not given, it's earned, and you've never earned mine. You're useless. Useless other than your ability to marry our enemies and end this war. So, that's what you're going to do. And you're going to do it without complaint."

Releasing my arm, she turns away, but then looks back over her shoulder. "You have one minute to compose yourself, and then you're going to be back on the stage, whether or not I have to drag you."

I rub the spot she'd pinched, already feeling the bruise forming, along with the last one. But the pain is good. It gives me clarity. Even if I refuse to marry the shifter, I'll have to do it. There's no other path for me now. My people won't let me stay. They won't even let me leave the stage until I've done what I have to, so my only choice is to do this with my head held high or to be seen as a coward by my people.

My life. My home. All the people I've ever known. I'm losing them all. And chances are once I leave, my days will be filled with suffering until my brutal death.

Okay, so that's how it is now. This is my life.

As I walk back to the stage, my heart hurts as I think of how I'd pointlessly pleaded with my mom. Love is not given, it's earned, and you've never earned mine. Maybe I'll earn it now.

"Congratulations, Princess Tara!" someone from the crowd calls out.

I look at her, my face blank, and nod. This isn't a prize I've won. I've just been sentenced to life with shifters. There are no congratulations to be had. This event should hold the air of a funeral, not a wedding. I don't even know who I'm marrying.

"Your husbands got a real catch!" another woman shouts, and everyone laughs.

My body stiffens. "Am I marrying one man?" I whisper to my mom.

Her back stiffens while she's smiling and waving to everyone, but she doesn't look back at me. "Tara, make sure you keep your mouth shut when they get here. You sound like an imbecile."

The doors to the ballroom open and in walks a pack of enormous men. The revelry in the ballroom halts. My breath is sucked from my lungs, and my legs tremble. The men tower over every witch in the coven as they wind their way through the room. All of them are clad in black and brown leather with fur here and there on their cloaks. None of them seems happy to be here. Join the club.

It's like a fireball of testosterone walked in and sucked all the fun from my people, and now they aren't sure what to do. These men are intimidating, with nothing but scowls showing on each face. It's like someone forgot to tell them we're now at peace.

My gaze sweeps over the men and freezes in the center of them, unable to pull away. Three men stand above the others, backs straight, grim determination on their faces. They seem to command the room without a word. I've heard of alphas and betas, basically how the shifter packs work, but I've never understood the terms until this moment.

These three men are alphas, through every inch of their muscular forms.

The one in the middle is the tallest of the shifters with piercing, bright green eyes that don't seem to match his demeanor or the frown on his face. They're green like a meadow, intelligent, somehow, and are a stark contrast to his jet-black hair. I've never seen a man like him before. Our men are thinner, well-cared for, with jobs that often keep them out of the sun. This man seems to radiate a manly energy that I've never experienced before, like he often works hard under the hot sun.

Why does his presence make me so uncomfortable?

The man on his right is massive. They're all massive, but he's more muscular than the whole group. His brown hair is longer on top and short on the sides, and tattoos peak out wherever I see skin. My pulse races at the sight of him. When our eyes meet, even the whisper of attraction I imagined for him fades away. If looks could kill, his gaze would have given me a quick death.

On the left of the green-eyed shifter, a blond-haired, blue-eyed man makes eye contact with me. He's muscular and tough-looking, but I also suspect that he's the kindest of the group, given the fact that there isn't obvious hatred reflecting in his eyes. Instead, he seems on alert and curious. My heart hopes he's the one I'm marrying, if I'm judging a book solely by its cover.

The other two definitely earned their bloodthirsty reputation, that's for sure.

Behind the line of men walks a heavy, older man. He's nearly as tall as he is wide, with a beard of white hair that nearly reaches the floor, although it's braided. As I watch him, he makes his way to the stage.

My heart stops. No, no, no!

Is this my future husband?My hands begin to tremble at the thought of having to marry him. He's probably twice my mom's age, and he scowls at me as he takes the steps up to the stage.

I'm going to be his wife. I'm going to share his bed. My stomach roils, and I bring my hand to my mouth. I should have found someone, anyone, willing to sleep with me before this, so this wouldn't be my first time.

But then… he walks past me. Relief washes over me as he goes to stand next to my mother. They shake hands, then stand as if they intend to officiate the wedding together, but it's my mother who says, "This is Elder Mire. He will be conducting the ceremony today as the shifter officiant."

Okay. That's not my husband. Then, who?

Most of the shifters take up positions around the room, as if prepared for an attack rather than a wedding, but the three men in the center head straight for us. None of them seem happy. If anything, they look like they want to be here about as much as I do.

When they take the stage, I don't know what to expect, but they stand, squaring off with me. So, I'm marrying three men. Nope, three shifters. I don't know if this is an improvement to when I thought I was marrying the old shifter, but I don't feel any better.

What will the wedding night be like? Painful, that's all I can think.

"It's time to begin the ceremony," my mother says, then looks at the old man beside her.

He lifts his arms as if he's reaching out to touch the top of the cavern, and his booming voice echoes through the cavern. "Before the moon and the shifter gods, I stand before you with the great honor of joining together Prince Arlys of Pack Talon, Prince Rinan of Pack Silver, and Prince Drogo of Pack Fury with-" he pauses and leans down to speak to my mother before continuing, "with Princess Tara Stone of the Crystal Coven. May their union be one that garners the peace we have all longed for after more than a century of bloodshed and war. May these four royals pave a path of peace for their people. Prince Arlys, Prince Rinan, and Prince Drogo, bow before your bride and vow to be hers forever more."

The man with jet black hair and the deep green eyes bows first. "I, Prince Arlys, vow to be yours forever more."

The next man, the angry man with the tattoos, bows next, even though his bow is stiff. "I, Prince Drogo, vow to be yours forever more." But his words almost sound like a threat.

The final man, the blond with the kind eyes, meets my gaze as he bows, his expression curious. "I, Prince Rinan, vow to be yours forever more." His words are quiet, almost a promise just between us.

When they're done, I have to take a deep breath because I feel light headed. This is really happening. And it's happening so fast. I can't escape. Or can I? Could I just start running? If I did, where would I even go?

The older man reaches out a hand to me.

I stare. He stares.

My mother whispers, "Tara, take the rings!"

I feel like I'm somewhere else. Like this is all a bad dream. But I lift my hand, and he hands me three golden bands. They glint in my palm like the tip of a sword, and I imagine a sword being pressed to my throat.

"Princess Tara, these rings signify your unending commitment to your husbands. The circle is the only shape with perfect symmetry that never ends. Your bond with these men begins now and shall never end. Place a ring on the finger of each of your husbands," the old man booms.

I don't want to. I don't want to do any of this. Looking at my mom, I see nothing but cruelty in her face. If I try to run, she'll drag me back here. There is no escape. I have to do this.

Prince Rinan steps forward first and kneels, his blond hair falling into his eyes a bit as he does, and puts his left hand out. I hold one of the rings between my thumb and pointer finger, but I'm stuck. I don't know which finger it goes on.

Do shifters put it on the same finger as witches?I look up at my mother for direction, but she jerks her head as if to say, "Get this done." My vision shifts to the older man, but he's not looking at me. He's watching the crowd, forever on guard around my people.

The prince blows a breath on my hand that holds the ring, drawing my attention to him. He wriggles his left middle finger and gives me a knowing look. Ah, I knew it was different! I slide the ring on his finger. He bows his head to me and returns to the line.

Prince Arlys is next. He meets my eyes, his deep ones a color I've never before seen, but there's no feeling there. He seems as unhappy about being here as I am, but I can also tell he's trying to read me. I hope he can't. If he can tell how miserable I am, he might just make this marriage of ours even worse. Let it take him awhile before he realizes what a terrible wife I'll make.

I almost laugh. Me, a wife? A wife to three shifters, at that? A small chuckle escapes, and I cover my mouth with my hands, forgetting that I have two more gold rings in them. To my horror, one ring ends up in my mouth, and the other lands on the ground at Prince Arlys' feet.

Fucking hell!

I quickly spit the ring out and wipe it on my dress, my heart racing even faster than before. Then I bend down to pick the one on the ground, only to collide with the back of Prince Arlys' head as he stands to hand the ring to me. My chin hits the top of his head, making me bite my tongue. I whimper and clamp my lips shut, tasting blood.

A rumble of laughter begins in the once-silent ballroom. I dare to glance at my mother, and her face is twisted into a look of pure hatred. Great, I'm going to pay for that. Later on, there will be whipping. Hard whipping until she's sure I never again embarrass her.

I freeze. No, there won't be. Because I'll be gone. The realization makes me feel strange.

"Princess Tara, the ring," the old man says, more gently than I would have expected.

Prince Arlys holds his hand out, and I reach for his hand to put the ring on his finger. Strangely, I can feel the tension in the air as my hand approaches his. He doesn't even want to touch me. Is it because I'm a witch or because once he caught sight of me, he changed his mind about this union?

There's nothing I can do about it, so I force a smile and quickly shove the ring on his finger. My smile feels frozen enough to shatter. I don't want to be here. I don't want to do this. How the hell do I survive what's going to happen to me next?

Prince Arlys grunts, rises, and stands back with the rest of them, and my heart hurts. I never thought much about my wedding, but I did imagine having a partner. I thought if anyone actually married me, it would be because they loved me. Sometimes at night, especially after my mother whipped me, I'd lie on my stomach crying to myself, imagining a day when someone would be there with me, so I wouldn't be crying alone.

That dream was dead. It died the moment my mom made this agreement. I survived without a mom who loved me, and without friends who cared for me, but I never imagined being linked to a man who despised me the way everyone else seemed to. Now, it isn't just that my present is hard, it's that my future, my dream, is gone.

I can't think about this right now. If I do, I'll come undone.

Prince Drogo huffs when he steps forward to kneel in front of me. He thrusts his hand in my direction and lets a low growl loose. His gaze is fixed on my face, and his expression is nearly as filled with venom as my own mother's face. I'm shaking. I hate that I have to touch him. But I push the ring on his finger, careful not to make contact with his skin.

These shifters don't like me. Of course they don't like me. We've been enemies for longer than we've been alive. I don't know whether I should hope they kill me quickly on witch lands, or hope they take me home and torture me slowly.

Probably the first one.

When he stands, I shake my hand at my side and remind myself to breathe. This ceremony might feel like it's stretching on forever, but it's not. It'll be over soon, and then I should have a few minutes alone to pack and process.

Just focus on those minutes alone. Nothing else.

"Now for her ring," the old shifter says, handing one to Prince Rinan.

Okay, I can do this.

Prince Rinan steps up, holding a ring. He takes my left hand and slides it onto my middle finger. His skin makes contact with my pinky, the one the nail had been pulled out of, and I flinch. He stiffens in front of me, watching me strangely, and I stare down at my feet, my heart rattling in my chest.

My mother clears her throat. "Princess Tara of the Crystal Coven, you are the connection between our coven and the shifters, a symbol of the peace between our people. Make us proud." She pauses, and I look at her, but her face is a blank slate. "Before the crystals and the way of nature that guides us, I now pronounce the four of you wedded and bound. May your union forge peace in our lands." The coven applauds.

Wait. Now they're supposed to kiss me.

Tense, I stand, waiting. I don't want the shifters to touch me. I don't want them anywhere near me, but it's part of the ceremony.

They look at me. I look at them, feeling the color drain further from my face.

Prince Arlys makes a movement toward me. I jerk back. He eyes me strangely.

I force myself to hold still.

He's still regarding me strangely as he closes the space between us. He waits, leaning over me, until I lift my eyes to his. Only then does he lean down and brush the lightest kiss against my lips.

Before I even have time to process the way my lips tingle, he draws back, and I feel like I can finally breathe. Prince Rinan takes a step closer to me, and I remember I have to kiss him too. His hand slips into the back of my hair while I resist the urge to run the hell out of there, and then he tilts my head and kisses me far harder than Prince Arlys had.

The kiss doesn't last long, but it's fierce. Exploratory. Every nerve in my body seems to hum to life, and then he breaks our kiss and steps back, looking surprised.

That makes two of us.I don't know if I liked his kiss, but I certainly didn't mind it.

It's Prince Drogo's turn, and I swallow hard. He regards me like an insect he wants to crush under his heel, but Prince Arlys elbows him, and Prince Drogo's glare deepens as he steps forward. He leans down, and I try not to scrunch my face up as his hard lips capture mine in a kiss that's cold, cruel, and completely expected.

The damn thing lasts only a second, but when he draws back, he doesn't go far. Our eyes meet, and I get the feeling that something's softened behind the hardness of his eyes, but I can't be sure. He blinks, the softness fading, and he steps away from me once more.

"We'll be waiting for you outside. We leave tonight," Prince Arlys says, no gentleness to his words.

As they walk toward the door, all of the shifters follow out of the ballroom door. Their backs are tense, no merriment in their faces. The older shifter finishes talking to my mother, then walks out, flanked by four men.

I touch my lips. Confused. I've kissed men before. Two to be exact. And there weren't any tingles or any warm feelings. These kisses were different, and I don't understand why.

Maybe because I'm afraid of these men?I almost shake my head. I am, but that's not why their kisses made me feel so strange.

My mother is suddenly embracing me. "You did well," she whispers in my ear.

It's surprising how much I think I'm going to puke. How cold and shaky my body feels. And just how much of my life and my plans are slipping away between my fingers.

I whisper back, my teeth chattering, "Do you love me now?" I have to have earned it now.

But she just laughs.