Chapter 6

"What do you mean, married? To whom?"

"To the next king of Silbath, whomever he may be."

I stumbled backward, nearly falling off the final three steps. "You don't even know who you've sworn me off to. That's…" I couldn't finish the sentence. Not without breaking there and then in front of my father. "Why?"

"Are you so blind that you can't see the favor I've given? They would have bound you up, had I not suggested this marriage."

"You… you suggested it?"

"This is the role of princesses, and I will not explain myself to you. I demand that you be of use to me. You will be my eyes inside that castle. You will find your new husband's weakness, no matter how long it takes you, and you will deliver that information to me by whatever means necessary. You will become the temporary queen of a temporary kingdom, and that is all. In the end, your new kingdom will be mine."

"I'm your only heir. Who'll rule here if something happens to you?"

"That's why we seek the Life Maiden so desperately."

Ah. The nail in my coffin. He didn't wish to groom me as queen. He wished for another. Someone else. Anyone other than Death's Maiden.

"Am I dismissed?" I asked, measuring breaths to steady my hands.

"For now."

"Please, Ro,"I whispered, standing before the mirror, limbs trembling with fear and anger.

The mirror rippled like liquid silver, soothing my heart. My shoulders sank as I stepped through the enchanted portal into her second realm. The air crackled with an electric pulse as I emerged on the other side, finding myself enveloped by a forest draped in twilight hues.

"Where are we?" I asked as I left the free-standing mirror behind, staring at the shafts of muted light piercing through the thick canopy.

"In a sanctuary," she answered, tugging on her emerald scarf until her luscious hair fell loose onto golden brown skin.

The air carried a heavy scent, the earthy aroma of decaying leaves mingling with a hint of melancholy. It felt as though I had entered a world caught in the throes of lingering sadness.

Ro, with her mischievous smile subdued, gasped the moment her eyes landed on me. She rushed forward, placing her cool palm on my cheek as she searched my eyes. "You look like shit, Dey. What's wrong?"

"Have you heard about Bram Ellis?"

She nodded. "I was visiting a friend in the Scarlet District when news arrived of the Silbath king. You cannot possibly think you had a choice. This is the cycle and the way of the magic. We've been over this time and time again."

I turned away, squeezing my eyes shut. I could be hard as nails when I had to be, but I was still a person. "It's not that I blame myself more than usual. It's everyone else. Well, the Silbath council, at least. I stand accused of killing on my father's behalf. And now, to appease the assholes, I have to marry the new king. Whomever that may be."

"So… what's the problem?"

My voice shook in disbelief. "The marrying part. The king slayer part. The upheaval of my life part. Take your pick. I'm trapped."

Her eyes narrowed, shifting between mine for several moments before she answered. "You have more poise and restraint than you give yourself credit for. You could refuse and kill the man who makes these demands, yet you care enough, despite everything, to refrain. You have a moral code that none before you had. But the way you are feeling is how you should be feeling. Change can be a cruel master. It pulls us in unexpected directions, leaving us feeling lost and uncertain. But even in the depths of darkness, there's a sliver of hope. Maybe this betrothal is an opportunity for transformation, for rediscovering the light within you. You've been suffering for such a long time."

"I'm not suffering. I hate this life, this godsdamn title, but I am happy." I lifted a leaf from the ground. "In my own way."

"Maybe becoming a wife means you'll have more things to find happiness in. Like discovering your bedroom is for more than sleeping and scheming. Come. We're celebrating." Yanking my hand, she led me back to the portal, pulling me through and into the hall of mirrors in her home.

"Why should we celebrate?"

She tugged me through her atrium and to the room we always ended up in, though the couches had been pushed toward the outer walls, and none of the dainty tables held their usual teacups and trinkets. "Because it's time to leave your father's world behind and become a woman. A queen even. It doesn't matter who you marry. He has to be better than this existence, and you get to start over. Fall in love." She held out the final word in her sing-song way.

"No one is going to love the Death Maiden."

She stopped in the middle of the room, and I nearly collided with her back. She turned, her beautiful face instantly sad. "I love you, Deyanira. You are my only real friend."

I'd never heard those words spoken to me. I'd never felt the strange warmth they coaxed, nor the way my heart clenched. I'd wanted that devotion so desperately, but what had I done to deserve it? "I'm sorry, Ro. Of course."

I couldn't speak the words back, no matter how much I wanted to. They felt foreign on my tongue. A language I understood but did not speak.

"There now. Hold that thought." She turned to rummage through a tall cabinet in the corner I'd never seen. Standing on her tiptoes, she pulled a bottle of blue liquid with an intricate glass topper from the shelf.

I studied the room to fill the silence, noting all the changes since I'd been here weeks ago. She was never content with her furniture, and the small endearment of a salacious woman felt so intimate to know.

"Stop staring at my couches, Dey."

"I just don't understand why you move everything around so much."

She lifted a shoulder with a smile. "Unlike some people, I appreciate change. Drink."

"What is it?" I scowled.

"It's something I've saved for a special occasion. Don't ask questions."

The sweet, syrupy liquid exploded on my tongue before coating my throat. I coughed, handing her back the glass. "That's terrible."

She laughed, the trill bouncing off the walls. "It really is too sweet. Let's have another."

"I haven't eaten in days. If I have another, I might be sick."

She stilled. "Why haven't you eaten?"

"My father forbade the cooks, and I had no fight in me."

She set her glass down, taking mine and doing the same. Leading me to the couch, she tugged until we both sat, still holding her hand. "Deyanira Sariah Hark, Death Maiden, Princess of Perth… you never, ever lose your fight. You never let someone defeat you. You never falter. You stand. You step. You rise. This world will eat you whole if you let it. Even the disease crawling on our streets is thick enough to take you down. We don't show weakness or cower in the dark. Promise me."

I nodded, leaning my forehead to hers. "I promise."

"You will be the only reason our world does not fall to war. You will be the savior of our time. This is the chance you've asked for. This is your gift to your people. You'll eat, and I'll add a flower for the fallen king. And then you will go home and prepare for your life to change for the better. Deal?"

I closed my eyes with a heavy sigh. Maybe she was right.

"Deal."

"Ouch."I winced, trying not to glare at the seamstress as she pinned yards of black, lacy fabric to my body for the third day in a row. If I scared her off, I'd have nothing to wear to my wedding. The three silent women surrounding her brought pins and threads and heaps of judgment and fear, adding to the overall ambiance of dread.

A woman who resembled a mouse had come the first day, and she'd flinched anytime I moved a muscle. She didn't speak a word, yet tears fell, and she rushed out before she could finish.

"Again, Princess Deyanira," a shrewd woman, sitting in the corner every day since, managed from behind the group of silent women hustling around my bedroom. With permanently flushed cheeks and fingers that looked like sausages, she took notes and tsked at everything I said or did. She'd been appointed Courtier of Nuptials by my father. "Proper etiquette only."

I set my jaw, staring straight at the mirror ahead of me, ignoring my long, dark braid pinned to my head to stay out of the way.

"The black veil is to be pinned on by a child so only the face of an innocent sees me before my future beloved. I'm to stare only at my feet, walk up the aisle, and stand in silence for the entirety of the ceremony. The new king will join me beneath the veil but will not look at me. We're to seek each other's hands in the dark, to represent finding each other without interference from anyone outside of our unity. His wrist will be placed over mine, and we will speak the solemn vow, igniting the only magic everyone in this kingdom is entitled to."

"The binding." The seamstress's breathy voice shocked me. She slapped her hands over her mouth. "I'm so sorry, Princess. P-please forgive me."

The Courtier cleared her throat, but naturally, I ignored her.

"You don't have to apologize."

"The magic is the best part," she said, sharing a tentative smile.

My cynical response rolled right off my tongue without a thought. "Magic always comes with a price."

The seamstress paused, meeting my eyes for only a moment. "We thank you, truly. For this marriage. Our people… We're grateful. It is no small thing, and the masses know that."

"And the Sacred Pact?" the Courtier interrupted.

No one had ever thanked me before. I spoke numbly, letting the words pass by without acknowledgement. "A kiss on the wedding day will reverse The Binding, and therefore, it is forbidden."

"The worst part," the seamstress added, the girls around her finally cracking their silence to snicker.

"That will be all for today," the Courtier interrupted, standing to huff with every step toward the door. "Tomorrow, your father will visit you first. He will bring the child to fasten the veil. You'll walk down the aisle silently and with proper posture, following the rules we've been over. Do you have any last-minute questions?"

"No."

I'd spoken the word with a tone of finality that shook me to my core. I was doing this. Marrying a stranger at the behest of my father, just like many women before me. I'd become someone else's problem, from my father's perspective, and maybe, somewhere in there, our people would see the sacrifice for what it ultimately was: the loss of one's freedom for the good of the kingdom. Tomorrow, I'd marry a perfect stranger, and I could only hope he would be kinder to me than my current king.

The scrapeof a boot across the rug on my floor yanked me from my final night's sleep in my father's castle. Someone was in my bedroom. Hand gripped firmly around Chaos, I held my eyes closed, listening. Breaths slow and measured.

Closer and closer the intruder crept, their right footstep slightly heavier than their left, though they moved nearly silently. Injured left leg. Noted. Lying on my side, I held my breath for the final step. The second they were within viable reach, I jerked upward, knife extended, stopped only by the solid grip of a man on my forearm.

My eyes took longer to adjust to the silvery hues of moonlight flooding the room from the open balcony than my brain did. I'd broken his grip and smashed an elbow across his face before I could see a single feature.

As he stumbled back, my sleepy vision finally cooperating, I leaped from the bed, landing on him as he fell backward, that left leg catching a knee as he went down. Deep brown eyes stared back at me from behind my dagger sitting gracefully upon this stranger's throat.

"Who the fuck are you, and why are you in my room?"

I could see the wheels of his mind spinning as he took me in, realizing only now who perched above him.

"My name is—" He gulped, the blade scraping the stubble on his neck. "Forgive me, Death Maiden. My name is Icharius Fern, and I'm to be your husband."