Chapter 8

Chasing the king through the narrow alleyways of Perth as he tried and failed to avoid most people was entertaining. He'd go left, change his mind, pull me right, and continue on.

"Do you have a plan, or are we wandering aimlessly until the sun rises and you can change your mind?"

He stopped, pressing into me, and my back collided with a damp brick wall as two drunks passed by, stumbling and cackling with laughter. Caged between his arms, our world felt different from theirs. My heart raced beneath his amber gaze.

He leaned down to whisper, "Sorry for this, but the best plans are the ones that go awry. They won't recognize me, but they will notice you, and if word gets out that the princess was seen with a strange man the night before her nuptials, we'll have more explaining to do than I care for."

"There's an abandoned temple four blocks north, next to the graveyard on Tolliver's Pointe. We can get to the rooftop from the outside, and no one goes there because they don't want to anger the old gods."

His eyes glistened. "They are old gods for a reason. But if we're to be married, I guess a temple is appropriate, as long as we don't go inside. I hate them."

Staring down at me, his mouth so close I could feel his breath, he dropped his arms, lifting a finger to run it down my cheek. Always touching me. And I hated that it didn't make my skin crawl.

"No kissing," I whispered. "It's a tradition we have to keep if we don't want to revoke the binding."

A thumb brushed over my lips. "It is the worst one."

"I don't know," I said, ducking away from him to catch my breath. "You don't have to wear the veil."

"See? There are gods."

To my utter surprise, the king found no issue scaling the building. I had to keep reminding myself that he didn't grow up in a castle. He'd have survival skills most in the cities carried. Perhaps the beautiful exterior mixed with the roughness would do something good for this world.

"It's beautiful from up here." Icharius gripped the intricate iron railing, peering down over the city. "We're far enough away, and it's dark enough out, you almost can't see the rot."

"Almost." I moved to stand beside him, studying a broken city from a vantage point I'd used many times.

The harsh reality of the city's underbelly could not be hidden, even within the darkest moments of the night. Carriages trundled along the streets, their wheels echoing on the cobblestones. Pedestrians, wrapped in threadbare clothing on their frail frames, huddled together, limping through the mist, their footsteps muffled but resolute. Bent over, their bodies seemed burdened by the weight of the world, their gaunt forms betraying the toll of hardship and destitution. Hollow eyes, haunted by sorrow, stared into an unforgiving void.

The gravity of the moment wasn't lost on me. I'd only ever taken from this world. I was merely a symbol of promised pain. But in this one act, in marrying a king to ensure peace—though I would have to defy my father eventually—I would make the ultimate eternal sacrifice for a struggling people. Somewhere in the depths of my soul, I hoped and even prayed to the gods that had abandoned us, this act would be felt by the people of this world. That they could look at me, and maybe fear me, but hold a sliver of gratitude that I'd married for their sake and not my own.

The silver light of the moon rimmed each of the headstones in the graveyard. Each death, a marker of a Maiden's presence. A silent tally of our murderous history.

I kicked a toe into the crack between weather-worn mosaic tiles laid centuries ago. The funerals I'd watched replayed in my mind. Moss and lichen clung tenaciously in scattered patches over the old building.

"You can nearly see the pulse of the city from up here," he said, unaware that I'd looked away.

I nodded. "Can you imagine what it was like before the wars? Before Death spared us from extinction?"

He turned, taking in my solemn face as I tucked a damp lock of hair behind an ear. "Maybe we should get this over with."

"A true romantic if ever I've seen one." This time, his smile didn't meet his eyes.

"You could always change your mind."

He shook his head, sodden hair falling across his brow. "Not on your life, Princess Deyanira Sariah Hark, Death's Maiden, heir to the throne of Perth, future queen of Silbath."

"Dey," I whispered.

"I'm sorry?"

"You can call me Dey."

He titled his head. "That feels like a win."

"It's not a win, Icky. It's just a concession."

"My friends call me Orin."

I couldn't help the urge to push the rogue hair from his brow. "That's an odd nickname for Icharius."

He leaned in with a smile. "It's better than Icky."

"Depends on who you ask, I guess."

He took a solid breath, his broad chest rising. "Close your eyes."

"I don't trust you, and I'm standing on one of the tallest buildings in Perth. I'll pass."

Closing the distance, he gripped my hands. "You can trust me, Deyanira."

"I trust no one, King. Not even my own father."

"Take out your blade."

"What?"

"Take your knife and press it to my throat. If it brings you peace of mind, then hold me at Death's edge, and let me marry you."

I gripped Chaos's handle, the familiar grooves bringing me solace. But I did not unsheathe her. Instead, I simply let my lashes fall heavily to my cheeks, droplets of water falling silently.

"It's the most beautiful sunny day you've ever seen, and you're standing at the back of your castle's garden. Though your veil shields you from the world, you can smell the flowers. You can hear the soft murmurs of the crowd. The haunted tones of a cello call you forward. Toward me."

A breath shuddered through my lungs as he built the scene in my mind. He plucked my hand free of the dagger and placed his wrist on mine.

"I don't have religious words or earthly vows to promise. The titles are gone. I am simply a man standing before you with a heart that is both eager and hesitant. Though we begin this journey as strangers, I am drawn to you, and I vow to discover the intricacies of your mind with reverence and awe."

I opened my eyes to stare into the sincere face of a perfect stranger who'd stolen me from my bed to make secret promises. With one wrist still laid over mine, he used his other hand to wipe the rain from my cheek.

"With Death's blessing and the gods watching over us, I bind myself to you from this day, till death."

I couldn't help the smile as a burning pulse heated my wrist.

"Your turn," he whispered.

Managing a breath, I began. "As Death weaves his narrative into the fabric of our story, I vow to navigate this marriage with grace and an open heart. I give you my hesitant, yet sincere vow to embark on this journey together, with a promise of devotion and careful discovery. I vow to form a bond that transcends time and reaches into the realm of eternity. With Death's blessing and the gods watching over us, I bind myself to you from this day, till death."

As the final tendrils of magic bound our lives together, I could hardly resist the pull to him until he started laughing, breaking the spell that'd fallen over us.

"What's so funny?" I asked, yanking my hand away from him.

"I think you just used your wedding vows to damn me to Death's court for eternity."

"Intentional." I laughed, despite myself. "If you wake me in the middle of the night again, it's a guarantee."

"Should we shake on it?"

I held out my hand, eyes locked on the fresh golden band of magic circling my wrist.

He tugged his sleeve only high enough to reveal his own marking and gripped my palm, giving one vigorous shake before pulling me forward and into his arms. "Goodnight, Wife. This is where we part. I hope you wake with no regrets."

"And I hope you wake, remembering you've just married Death's Maiden and somehow still show up tomorrow with some color on your face."

"I'll see you on the other end of the aisle." He swiped another soaked hair from my forehead, cursing the rain before walking away.

I watched him leave, his silhouette fading into the mist the second he moved beyond the streetlamps. Lifting my scarf to hide behind the familiarity of a mask, I descended the building moments later, rushing past the tapestry of neglect and poverty, over the gathered puddles, and on to my father's castle.

Tossing and turning through the rest of the night, I rose to watch the sun attempt its rise, replaying every second of my secret wedding. I'd just finished tying a small ribbon around my wrist when my bedroom doors flew open, crashing against the wall as my father stormed inside. It was the first time in my life he'd ever entered my bedroom.