by Bec McMaster
I wish I felt the same sense of confidence.
“Come this way,” Kyrian calls, turning and striding toward the stone arches that seem to lead directly into a castle hewn into the rock. “I’ve had my servants send for refreshments. You seem as though you need them.”
Kyrian sinks onto the enormous carved stone throne in the middle of his audience hall, kicking his legs over one arm and snapping his fingers for wine. “So tell me, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“You’d know that if you bothered to show up for the alliance meeting.” There’s nothing to say Thiago is angry except for the cool, supercilious arch to his brow.
“I had better things to do rather than waste my time watching three petty bitches try to put me in my supposed place.”
Servants spring forward, a pair of women wearing gowns of berry red that drape at the throat, leaving their backs and spines bare. Though they offer us refreshments, there’s a fierceness in their eyes that leaves me in no doubt that they’re not merely servants, and I’m fairly certain the golden ornaments in their hair have sharp ends.
“As much as they irritate me too, we need them,” Thiago replies, accepting a glass.
“It’s debatable.” Kyrian’s eyes flash fire and he glances at me.
“She knows.”
There’s a faint softening of the Prince of Tides’ shoulders. He rubs his finger around the rim of his wineglass. “Year by year, it all plays out the same way. You must be weary of the game by now, old friend.”
“Would you be weary? If that was Meriana?”
Kyrian’s finger stills on the glass.
“No. I would not be weary. I would spend a thousand summers hunting the seas so I could cut that bitch’s heart from her chest while she watched.”
Meriana.
That was the name of the woman he’d once loved.
But it’s clear that whatever emotions he felt toward her have long since faded.
“And I would spend a thousand winters waiting for my wife to recognize me, if that was what it took,” Thiago replies in a deadly soft voice. “But she’s right here, so perhaps you can stop talking over her head as if she’s not.”
Kyrian shoots me a disdainful smile. “I used to think love was a gift, but it’s not. It’s a poison, slowly ingested over years, and it’s ultimately fatal. Remember that, Your Highness, when you must return home to your mother again. Because you’re leading him to a slow, steady death as surely as the sun will set in the west, and I don’t think the bastard has the strength to avoid his fate now.”
The words stun me.
I think I understand Eris’s anger toward me—she cares for her prince. But Kyrian’s anger feels more personal, as if he’s seeing another face painted over mine and his words are intended for her.
That doesn’t make them feel any less personal.
Or true.
I don’t know what I feel toward Thiago—the entire revelation was such an upheaval I’m still finding my feet—but I know when he looks at me, he sees his entire world. It makes me feel safe and overwhelmed and nervous.
Nobody has ever loved me.
It’s all I ever longed for when I was a little girl, and it feels as though that dream has been delivered on a gold platter, but I somehow missed the steps leading up to it.
I wanted someone who would never turn away from me. I wanted strong arms I could curl up in when night fell and I was alone with all those little thoughts that eat at me sometimes. I wanted someone to protect me, someone who would fight for me, someone who would always be there for me.
But what if I get him killed?
What if all I do is take and take and take, until there’s nothing left?
Those dreams were a child’s dreams, but I’m a woman now, and I know sometimes the world can be cruel.
“If you felt any sense of love for him, you would set him free,” Kyrian continues. “Or you may as well put a blade in his heart right now and end it mercifully.”
Those words keep hammering at me.
Because they echo my own thoughts.
And the only way to quell them is to lash out. “I can’t remember what happened to this… Meriana, or why you feel such vitriol toward her, but perhaps what you felt for her wasn’t love, if you think of it as poison. And if anyone did the deed, then you did it to yourself.”
His eyes drop to half-mast, heat flaring in their amber depths. “You dare?”
I sip my wine. Perhaps I can thank my mother for granting me the grace to face such malice with no reaction. “I thought we were exchanging insults? Did you want me to sit here in silence and shed a tear at your words? Perhaps I should simper a little?”
“You know, I never did see a resemblance to your mother until this moment, but you’ve well proven your—”
“That’s enough,” Thiago says in his midnight voice, the one that expects to be obeyed. “The both of you.” He turns to Kyrian. “We came here as guests. As friends. And this is how you greet us?”
Kyrian’s fingers twitch. “My apologies, Princess. I did not mean to offend you.”
It’s a lie, and we both know it.
But I’m genuinely sorry for my part in it. There’s a deep reservoir of anger within me, a hot coal slowly gathering heat. But he’s not the target. And I shouldn’t take my anger out on him. I need to save it for my mother. “I’m sorry if my words caused you pain.”
Kyrian waves the apology away. “Well, let’s hear it. You didn’t come all this way just to offend me.”
Thiago wastes no time. “Angharad’s been seen in Mistmere, trying to resurrect the Hallow.”
“Why?”
“We don’t know,” Thiago replies. “Hence, why we’re here.”
Kyrian stares into his wine a little moodily. “Surely that bitch has better things to do than dabble with the Mother of Night.”
“She’s also looking for something she calls leanabh an dàn.”
“Child of destiny,” Kyrian says.
Thiago tells him the theory about a child belonging to the Old Ones, and how he thinks Angharad wants to use it to access some of the Old Ones powers.
“This is… troubling. I’ll see what my sources have to say,” Kyrian murmurs, pushing to his feet. “In the meantime, why don’t you both enjoy the pleasures of Stormhaven? I’ll have rooms prepared. Or is it just one room?”
There’s no malice in his eyes, but the words are a challenge.
“Two,” I say, just as Thiago says, “One.”
We both look at each other.
“Two,” I repeat in a softer voice, because I don’t know that I have the willpower to deny him if we’re forced to share a room.
And a bed.
26
The city that surrounds the base of the keep is carved from stone and weathered by eons of storms. But there’s a sense of revelry in the back alleys, and paper lanterns are strung across narrow streets, giving it a sense of cheer. The city attracts those who find a living on the seas, though it’s rarely a legitimate trade. Too many cutlasses strapped at everyone’s hips, and gold winking in a fae smile.
Thiago leads me to a restaurant overlooking the Hallow, where there’s a stone balcony that gives us both a semblance of privacy and a view. Vines snake across the strand of lanterns, and vibrant pink flowers dangle from their tips. Tiny little demi-fey the likes I’ve never seen before flit from flower to flower, sipping on the sweet nectar.
Kyrian promised he’d have more information on what Angharad is planning by morning, which leaves us with a night to explore the city.
And perhaps, to simply enjoy each other’s company.
“A man of many talents,” I mutter. “He can insult me in one breath and then promise us answers in the next.”
Thiago’s eyes narrow, and his fingers tap, just once, against the table. “Don’t forget, you belong to me, Princess.”
I lean forward, nursing the wine. It’s made me feel bold. “I belong to myself, Your Highness. And you’d
do well to remember it.”
He captures my hand, toying with my fingers. “You’ve always been your own woman. It’s what attracted me in the first place. But don’t play games. Not with other men. Not now. Don’t make me kill my friend.”
My breath catches.
Is he jealous?
“I’m not playing games and I have no interest in your friend Kyrian,” I tell him. “Nor do I have any interest in anyone else. One husband is enough, thank you.”
“That’s the first time you’ve called me that,” he says softly.
All this time he’s been charming and seductive, but I’ve never gotten a glimpse of the real man. I didn’t realize how much it bothers him that I’m holding him at arm’s bay.
I’ve seen the armor.
I’ve seen every wink and smile he can offer.
But I’ve rarely seen a hint of vulnerability.
I fold a piece of thin, flat bread and sprinkle a handful of chopped tomatoes and soft cheese into it. “I’m trying.”
“I know,” he murmurs.
“You seem out of sorts.”
“I’m usually in your bed by now.” Thiago looks away, out across the star-strewn skies. “And that’s not a complaint. I understand your request for two rooms. My insistence was purely for security reasons, though at least they’re beside each other. But every year it takes a little longer for you to trust me. Every year, I count the days until you look at me with any sort of fondness. And every year, that day ticks closer to the time I must return you. How many years will it take, I wonder, before my wife no longer looks at me with love in her eyes?”
Silence falls between us.
“My mother does her job well. She fills my ears with poison and puts a knife in my hand and whispers of the threat you pose.” Not to me. Never to me. “She paints pictures of war and how I could save my people from such harsh reality.”
Because she knows I will always take the threat to my people harder than any harm against myself.
“I come to you thinking you’re a monster.” Only to find the man himself, with his seductive smiles and his curious charm. It makes me wonder: Have I even seen the real man yet? Or is he still stifling his true nature, trying to woo me, as it were. Trying to be soft and gentle and not to frighten me. “I need to know you,” I whisper. “In all your facets. The good. The bad. The frightening. I know you can be kind, but that’s not all of you. The other kingdoms wouldn’t fear you so badly, if that was all of you.”
His eyes dance back to mine. “I am not kind. I am a prince, and I must make hard decisions. But I will never hurt you, Vi. The other kingdoms fear what they don’t understand, and I will always be an abomination in their eyes.”
What does that mean?
“Why?” I demand. “Because my mother calls you Unseelie? Because of your Darkness. Your tattoos?”
If there is anything to fear of him, it is that.
“What are they?” I remember the snarling whisper of their voices. Five distinct voices, if I recall correctly.
Thiago’s face shuts down. “They are the cost I paid to find myself in the position I now hold. And that is all, Vi. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“I won’t tell my mother.”
“I know.” He forces a smile. “But tonight is for us. I want to enjoy it. Not speak of monstrous things and a bloody past. Please.”
It’s a small step.
This time he asks for me to set it aside.
“One day,” I warn.
“One day I will tell you everything.” Thiago reaches across to stroke my hand. “I promise.”
There’s no point arguing. It makes me insatiably curious, but then, I have my own secrets. I raise my glass to him and now. “Tonight is for us.”
The server brings out steaming dish after steaming dish.
There are sweet loaves baked in some sort of leaf, and a spicy rice dish that complements the fish perfectly. Rich goat’s cheese, thin wafers, and all manner of fruits spread across a platter that barely fits on the table. And finally, little cakes drizzled in honey, which I’m forced to lick from my fingers.
“Maia’s breath, that was so good,” I moan, once I’m finished and can no longer fit anything else inside me. “You may have to carry me to the castle.”
Thiago’s eyes light with a familiar fire. “I was about to suggest the same.”
I eye those broad shoulders. “I may need three mules and a wagon to do that.”
His smile softens, though there’s an odd sense of satisfaction to it rather than amusement.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
My eyes narrow. “That wasn’t nothing. You have that smile you sometimes wear, as if I’ve done something amusing.”
“You seemed quiet today,” Thiago replies. “It’s nice to see the familiar spark in your eyes. That’s all. I wasn’t sure how long it would take for you to accept this.”
“How long does it usually take?”
“That depends. Usually, the spell unwinds the longer you’re with me, and memories start leeching in.”
“I don’t quite know what to make of all this,” I admit. “I’ve spent weeks avoiding you, because I could sense something was wrong. You don’t know what that feels like, to be aware of secrets whispered every time your back is turned.”
It’s almost a relief to know what they were all keeping from me.
Even if it presents a new dilemma.
“And… I don’t know you.” It’s a soft, strained confession. “Oh, perhaps I’ve started to know you as a man, but not as my husband. And it feels like…. It feels….”
I don’t want to put it into words that might hurt him.
Thiago captures my hand, his thumb rasping over the fleshy pad at the base of mine. “Truth,” he says. “Always truth between us. Don’t ever be afraid to say what you think to me. It might not be what I want to hear, but I’d much prefer that, rather than wondering if you’re too afraid to speak plainly.” He leans forward. “I know this has all been a shock. I know it’s all new. I know you, Vi. And while I might wish I was in your bed, I’m content to wait until you’re ready. You don’t owe me anything you don’t want to give tonight, Vi.”
It releases some of the tension in my shoulders.
“It feels confusing.” I squeeze his hand back. “I think I was almost more at ease with you when I didn’t know the truth.”
Because back then, there’d been no pressure.
No expectations.
What if I cannot love him?
I try to curl my fingers into a ball, but he won’t let me.
“Give me time, Vi. That’s all I ask.”
Yes, but how much time do we have? I’m aware of the slow, stealthy march of days and nights, sweeping me toward an inevitable clash with my mother.
Those gentle fingers stroke their way across my palm. It sends shivers through me. “Perhaps I can set your mind at ease. Ask me anything, and I’ll do my best to answer.”
“Anything?”
“Anything,” he repeats.
I consider my options. Not the Darkness. Not his bloodied past. Us. “I know you saw me in a vision, but I don’t know…. Why me?”
Why had he fallen in love with me?
He toys with my fingers. “I know you don’t remember any of our courtship. I know you wonder how we could have fallen in love so swiftly. Three days is not an eternity, and yet we bound ourselves to each other forever. But all my life I have been called “other” and “abomination” and “impure.” To be granted a vision of my one true love by Maia was a gift that made me feel as though I belonged, for Maia turns her face from those who darken the earth beneath their feet. She shuns the Unseelie, and if she’d gifted me, then I felt she must have found me worthy. That vision was all I had on nights where the blackness ate at my heart. It kept me going with the promise that one day I would find you. One day I would know love.”
The words fill some gaping wound deep within me.
Because he’s not the only one who felt as if he didn’t belong, and yet I never had a vision. All I had was hope and the desperate longing to earn my mother’s respect, if not her affection.
“And then I finally met you. You were the first woman who ever looked at me as if she saw past the whispers,” he admits. “You didn’t look at the tattoos. You didn’t look at me with fear. You tipped your chin up and told me ‘An Asturian never cowers before her enemy, so if you think your big, bad reputation scares me, then pray, think again.’ I knew in that moment that you were mine, no matter what I had to do to have you.”
“It sounds a little too perfect to be true.”
Thiago smiles, his voice growing rough. “You did threaten to throw a bottle of wine at my head. It shattered a few of my illusions. In my vision, you were beautiful and kind and you smiled at me. And then when we met, you told me that if I even thought about putting my filthy Evernight hands on you again, you’d break my fingers, one by one.”
Not even a hint of recognition fills me, but now I’m fairly certain he’s telling me the truth.
“And now you’re smiling,” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek. “I love seeing that smile. It’s your secret smile, as if you don’t want to be amused but you can’t help yourself. It’s my smile, the one you only give to me. The first time I won it from you, you looked like you wanted to murder me, even as you simply couldn’t stop yourself from laughing.”
“You don’t strike me as that charming,” I point out, trying to regain some equilibrium.
Thiago reaches forward to pour me more wine, his eyes shining with glee. “Ah, but you’ve been fighting me at every step, Princess. And I know all your weaknesses by now.”
“Let me guess.” I grasp the wine and lean closer. “My weakness is you?”
He doesn’t look away as he snaps his fingers. “I’d like to say yes, but the truth is…. Sometimes you can resist me. I don’t know how. It honestly baffles me. I thought I was irresistible. No. Your weakness is….”
