Finn finished washing his hands, then leaned against the metal basin. He stared out the small round window above it, watching Ember slosh about the field.
“You know, I could take her up there,” Finn said, his words tentative. “Just so she could see what it was like.”
“No,” Annali said sharply and shook her head. “There are too many people, and it wouldn’t be good for either of you.”
“But if she saw what it was really like, how boring and stuffy everyone is, maybe she wouldn’t be going on about the Princess and the palace all the time. She has them on such a pedestal.”
Annali snorted. “I wonder where she learned that from.”
“Oh, so this is my fault?” Finn turned around to face her.
“I never said that.” She continued sewing, but she lifted her eyes to look at him. “It’s not just you. Or your father. It’s those damn tracker schools too. They spend so much time teaching those kids that they’re nothing compared to the royal family.”
“It’s not that bad,” Finn insisted.
Annali wasn’t completely off base, but she did greatly exaggerate it. The kids were taught that the higher Trylle had more abilities, and that’s what made them higher Trylle. Part of being a tracker was protecting them, but there was still honor and dignity in that.
It might be a different kind of nobility than the royalty, but tracker children were still taught that they were integral to Trylle society. They were important and had just as much value as the Markis and Marksinna did.
“It’s bad enough.” Annali sighed. “Some days I wish I could pull Ember out of that school and take her far away from here.”
“Then why don’t you?” Finn asked. He stepped away from the basin and pulled out a chair across from his mother. “If you hate it so much here, why don’t you go?”
She shook her head, trying to pretend like she hadn’t given it much thought. “Where would we go?”
“Anywhere you want,” he said with a dry laugh. “You’re not a prisoner here.”
“It doesn’t feel like that,” she admitted.
“Why didn’t you leave?” Finn asked quietly.
For a moment, Annali said nothing. Though they rarely talked of it, she knew that Finn was aware of the affair between his father and the Queen. It would’ve been impossible for him not to be. They lived in a tiny cottage, and Annali and Thomas had spent a good portion of Finn’s childhood arguing about Elora.
“Your father would never leave.” Annali stopped sewing and simply stared down at the pants. “And despite everything, I loved him. I couldn’t leave him.”
“How can you still love him after everything he put you through?” Finn asked.
“Don’t.” She shook her head and looked up at him. “You don’t need to worry about my marriage. I forgave your father, and that’s all that matters.”
“If you say so,” Finn said, unwilling to push the issue.
“This is why it’s so important that you get away from that family while you still can.” She set down her needle and thread and reached across the table, putting her hand over his. Her skin was dry and callused from years of hard work.
“I know why you don’t like the Queen or her daughter, but it’s not the same for me,” Finn said.
“No, it’s worse. You have a chance for a happy life, of loving someone who can actually love you in return. But that is not the Princess. It can never be her.” Annali’s mahogany eyes were pleading with him. “You know that if you continue down this path it will only lead to heartbreak, both for you and the Princess. You need to move on.”
He swallowed hard and lowered his eyes. “I know. That’s why I’m taking the first job I can to get out of here.”
“Good.” She smiled tightly at him. “I’ll miss you, of course, but you need to take care of yourself. Your entire life doesn’t need to be in service of others.”
Finn pulled his hand back from his mother, and Ember burst into the house. Being outside apparently hadn’t done anything for her mood. She started to kick off her boots, but when Annali scolded her, Ember took them off carefully and set them by the door.
Even though she seemed dead set on pouting, Finn decided to try to cheer up. He suggested she change into pants, and he would practice fighting with her. In tracker school, they learned many forms of defense fighting, including mixed martial arts.
That seemed to get through to her, and Ember hurried off to change. Her main goal in life was to become a great tracker like her father and brother, and any time that Finn spent helping her train left her elated.
So that’s how he spent the rest of the afternoon. Outside, in the sleet and slush, teaching his little sister how to fight. Neither of them fought as well as they could, since both their minds were still on the engagement party. It helped distract them, though, and make them forget how badly they wanted to be somewhere else.
And sometimes that was the best Finn could do. Just distract himself until he could forget about the things he couldn’t have. He had a family that loved him and a house filled with warmth, despite its history, and that was more than he could say for a lot of people.
2. Tove
Saturday, October 28
He couldn’t remember anybody’s names. Most of the time, Tove felt pretty fortunate that he could remember his fiancée’s name. That’s why, when they were introduced to people, Tove said very little, leaving it to Wendy to greet the guests at their engagement party.
At least the meet-and-greet part of the party was over, and they had moved on to eating. He glanced over at Wendy sitting next to him, her smile so wide it looked painful. Her aura was strained, looking a putrid mustard color, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he’d done the right thing asking her to marry him.
It seemed like the best thing to do when he asked her. From a political standpoint, she needed to rule the kingdom, and having the support of himself and his family behind her would help. In a personal sense, Tove didn’t want to force her to do this alone.
Besides that, it wasn’t like either of them could marry somebody they loved. But at least they liked each other. It would be better to marry a friend than end up in some cold prison like his parents’ marriage.
But sometimes, like when Wendy smiled politely at another one of his mother’s veiled insults, Tove thought he’d accidentally trapped her in this. He’d done this to help her—but maybe he’d also been selfish. Their engagement kept Aurora from asking too many questions about why Tove wasn’t dating.
Tove had only brie y considered leaving Förening, accepting his fate and being banished. But he couldn’t go back to the human world. His abilities made him act out too bizarrely. When they started manifesting in his early teens, he’d actually been forced into inpatient treatment at a psychiatric hospital.
Finding out he was Trylle had been such a relief for him. When Finn had tracked him down and explained that he wasn’t insane, that all the things he could hear and do were real, it had been one of the happiest days of his life.
That’s why he couldn’t leave here. Giving up the chance at falling in love was a hefty price to pay, but for him it was worth it. Living a life outside of an insane asylum was good enough.
But maybe it was unfair to ask the same thing of Wendy.
“How are you doing?” Tove asked her quietly.
“Hmm?” She’d been absently picking at the salad in front of her.
He hadn’t eaten much of his own food, but events like this always made him lose his appetite. His head buzzed, even though he’d spent all morning draining his powers, and he felt a migraine growing at the base of his skull.
“How are you doing?” Tove repeated. He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table and pushing his plate away from him.
Elora made a clicking sound with her tongue when he put his elbows on the table, but she said nothing. The one good thing about the party was that Wendy had been seated next to Aurora, and Tove had been seated next to Elora, so
neither of them had to make awkward dinner conversation with strangers.
Tove, Wendy, and their parents, along with Garrett and Willa, all sat at one long table in the newly finished ballroom. They looked much like the Last Supper, all sitting on one side at the head table. Partygoers were seated throughout the ballroom, their voices a dull rumble echoing through the room.
“Dandy.” Wendy forced a smile at him. “How are you?”
“There’s still time.” He leaned in toward her, lowering his voice so it was barely audible. “We can still call this whole thing off. If you want.”
“No.” She lowered her eyes and shook her head, and he couldn’t tell for sure if she meant it or not. “I don’t want to.”
“Tove, what are you conspiring about?” Aurora bent forward to get a better look at him.
“Just whispering sweet nothings to one another.” Tove smiled thinly at her, and she narrowed her eyes. “You know how we young lovers are.”
Wendy laughed at that, a genuine sound, and when she smiled, it was absolutely dazzling. She looked so radiant when she was happy, even he had to appreciate her beauty.
“No.” She looked up at him, still smiling, and her aura lightened to more of a yellow. He’d managed to relax her a little. “I’m happy to have you here with me. Because if you weren’t here, I’d have to do all this by myself. And you know how misery loves company.”
He nodded. “I do.”
Something must’ve occurred to her, because her brown eyes looked pained and her smile fell away. “Unless you’re saying you don’t want to do this. If you want out, that’s fine with me. I was just joking about misery loving company. I don’t want you to be miserable.”
“No, I’m not miserable,” Tove said quickly, nearly cutting her off. “And I don’t want out. There’s plenty of worse things I can do than marry you.”
Like being banished from the kingdom and getting locked up for being crazy. That would be far worse. But he didn’t say that. Instead he just smiled, and she looked relieved.
He took a long drink of his wine and settled back in his chair.
Tove tried to remind himself that he had nothing to feel guilty about. Wendy knew he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. But they were both still very young, and Wendy could eventually find someone she loved who was also suitable for marrying.
If she did that, if Tove ever found she was in love with someone she could actually be with, he would gladly step aside. That was the one concession he could make.
“You should finish eating, Princess,” Aurora said.
She was speaking to Wendy, but her eyes were locked on the engagement ring on her hand. Tove had picked it out himself, and Aurora despised it. She spent most of the evening glaring at the emerald, and Tove couldn’t help but smile every time he noticed.
“I think I’m done, actually.” Wendy set her fork on her plate and leaned back in her seat.
“Good. Because the dancing should be starting soon.”
“We have to dance?” Tove balked.
“Of course,” Elora said. “It’s tradition for the betrothed to have their first dance together at the engagement party.”
“Right. Because nothing says romance like dancing in front of hundreds of strangers,” Tove muttered.
“Marriage has nothing to do with romance,” Elora said, as if Tove needed reminding.
The server came to take away their empty plates shortly after that, and then the band started playing. His mother had gotten a small twelve-piece orchestra for the party, and they were set up on the edge of the room near the head table.
With all the tables crowding the room, there wasn’t much of a dance floor. There wouldn’t be enough room for more than a few couples, but that was fine, since it would only be Tove and Wendy dancing.
When the orchestra grew louder—Tove thought it was something by Debussy—Aurora gave him a stern look. Even with all the static from the crowd, he could hear her loud and clear, demanding that he ask Wendy to dance.
Sighing, Tove pushed back his chair and stood up. Holding his hand out to her, he asked, “Shall we?”
“If we must.” Wendy put her hand in his, and as soon as she stood up, the crowd erupted in applause.
Tove led Wendy around the back of the table. When they walked behind Aurora, she hissed, “Smile. You look like you’re going to a funeral.”
By the time they reached the floor, everyone had stopped clapping, but all eyes were still on them. Tove could feel their stares burrowing into him, and it was rather distracting. He tried to keep his focus on Wendy and blot them out.
“I should’ve had more wine with dinner,” Tove said as they managed a slow, awkward waltz together.
“Sorry.” She furrowed her brow as she stared up at him. “Are you okay? You seem a little . . . frazzled.”
“Too many people,” he admitted and grimaced. “For our wedding day, I’m going to have to spend the entire night before moving everything I can so I’m completely exhausted.”
“Does it help if you think of something else?” Wendy asked. “I mean, if we talk and keep your mind busy, does it help keep the noise down?”
“A little.”
“Okay, so . . .” She glanced around, as if searching for something to talk about. “What should our wedding song be?”
“You mean Aurora hasn’t already picked it?” Tove asked with a wry smile.
“No, I won’t let her,” Wendy informed him. Tove must’ve looked impressed because she laughed a little. “I know this is sort of a fake wedding, but it will be the only wedding I have. Aurora and Willa are picking everything else, but I wanted to have a say in the song.”
He saw it then. Only for a second, but her aura darkened, going nearly black for a moment, when she said this would be her only wedding.
Her expression had remained the same, though. She was getting better at lying, at pretending to be who the Trylle expected her to be. That was for the best, he supposed, but part of him was saddened that she was losing some of her innocence.
“What song did you have in mind?” Tove asked, hurrying to erase her unease.
“I don’t know, actually.” Wendy laughed again. “I’d never really put much thought into my wedding until a few days ago. But I know I don’t want something cheesy or super cliché.”
“So ‘Endless Love’ is out?” Tove teased.
“I’m afraid so.” She cocked her head at him. “What about you? Did you have any songs in mind?”
“No, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I didn’t think I’d have any input.”
“Why don’t we pick the song together, then?” Wendy asked. “What do you like?”
“Um . . .” Tove tried to think of music he liked that would be appropriate for the ceremony. “I’ve always been partial to Etta James.”
“Really?” Wendy raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, really. Why do you always seem so surprised by the music I like?” Tove asked. “You and Duncan were both shocked that I liked the Beatles.”
“I don’t know. It’s weird picturing you listening to music, I guess.” She shook her head, making her dark curls dance on her shoulders. “I don’t know how to explain it.”
“I like music very much, actually,” he said. “It helps drown out the noise.”
“I suppose it would.” She took a deep breath and stared up at him with the strangest look in her eyes.
“What?” Tove asked, fearing he’d done something wrong.
“There’s just so much I don’t know about you, and . . .” She trailed off, but he waited until she found the words to finish her thought. “And I’m spending the rest of my life with you.”
“Well, that’s plenty of time to learn, isn’t it?” Tove tried to sound cheerful about it, but he knew what she meant.
Eventually, blessedly, the song ended, and they returned to their seats. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the reprieve Tove had hoped for. Guests were now allowed to come up to the table, suppos
edly to wish them well on their marriage, but mostly they seemed to be complaining about something.
The Chancellor managed to hog a disproportionate amount of time. There was a line of people waiting behind him to get up to the table, but he continued to blabber on, oblivious to how he inconvenienced everyone else.
Poor Wendy always got the worst of it. His beady little eyes were focused directly on her. The one bright spot was that he was apparently too upset about the current state of things to be thinking anything dirty about the Princess. It was a nice change for Tove, not to see that horrible man’s perverse thoughts.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to bother you,” Markis Bain said, pulling Tove’s gaze to him. He’d been too busy glaring at the Chancellor to notice the Markis had come up to the table.
“Um, no. You’re no bother.” Tove tucked his hair behind his ears and leaned forward on the table. “No bother at all.”
“I kind of cut in line,” Bain admitted sheepishly and motioned to where the Chancellor continued to prattle on to Wendy. “But I didn’t really want to talk to the Princess anyway. I mean, I did, but you were . . . available.”
“I am available, so . . . that’s fine.” Tove smiled up at him.
Bain was in charge of changeling placement, so Tove had seen him around the palace before, but they’d never really spoken. But Tove had noticed him right away since Bain had the most brilliant blue eyes he’d ever seen—an incredible rarity in the Trylle community. In fact, it was so rare, Tove only knew of one other Trylle in the entire kingdom who had blue eyes.
It meant that somewhere, a few generations back, one of Bain’s ancestors had been from the Skojare—a smaller tribe of trolls known for their affinity for aquatics. But Tove didn’t care what Bain’s bloodlines were. His mother would, but in matters like these, her opinions did not count.
“I wanted to wish you luck,” Bain said.
“Luck?” Tove asked, unsure of what he meant.
“On your impending nuptials.” He gestured over to Wendy sitting next to him, and Tove realized dismally that he’d actually forgotten she was there.
“Right.” Tove forced a smile and nodded. “Thanks.”
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