“But Aras’ role in Orien’s future complicates matters.”
“It most certainly does,” I agree, rubbing a gentle hand along her unraveling braid. “If Knox thinks he’s going to ruin Aras’ life forever, then he has yet to fully understand the wrath of a woman scorned. I will not allow another ounce of Father’s dark magic to inhabit Aras’ soul. He’ll have to end me first.”
Vivi looks up, her warm palm finding my cheek. “And when he commands Aras to harm you? What then?”
Flashes of Aras’ fire failing at the contradiction of Knox’s desires consume my vision, causing my eyes to pinch tight with worry. He couldn’t even keep control of his will when he was trying to hurt Hammel. There is no telling what will happen when he tries to defy Knox’s will to kill me. If he even tries to defy him at all.
“I’ll have to make sure I’m fast in ending Knox then, won’t I? If he’s out of the picture, Aras’ mind will be set free.”
“And he’s going to make sure you haven’t married Ian, sealing you from the Theron throne in case his plans to burn you to a crisp don’t quite work out in his favor.” She pulls her hand from my cheek and curls into my chest. “You’ll have to warn him. He has to know what Father has planned for your future.”
“I will, Vivi,” I soothe, rocking her back and forth as much to calm her fears as it is to cover my own. “Ian will know what to do; he always does.”
“And don’t you worry about Aras.” She yawns, the tendrils of sleep calling out to her weary frame. “I know you think you’ve lost your hold on him, and you’re not strong enough to do what needs to be done, but I’ll be the first to tell you it isn’t true. Your stunt with Aras scared our father so much so that he sent Hammel here to reaffirm their plans. Besides, I learned a lot during my childhood spent with that wicked man. If there is anyone who can figure out the secrets of his magic, it’s me. I can help, Brave. You only have to trust me.”
Her words furrow in deep, creating a wedge between my mind and my heart. It’s obvious my little sister can help—I’ve never believed any different. But if there is one thing I can’t bear, it’s for her to get hurt in the process. Not when so many others have already paid the price.
“Oh, Vivi.” I lift the covers so she can curl back into the cushions. “Some days, I think you’re the only one I can trust.”
She tenses at my words, a line of indecision flashing in her gaze. When I make no move to question her thoughts, she exhales, pulling the covers up to her chin. “You can trust me forever,” she says.
And so I will.
Thirty-Eight
“Everything will turn out just as we deem it—you’ll see.”
I’m quite sure Ian has said more, but so far, those are the only words I’ve been able to take in since we’ve sequestered ourselves away from the world, hiding in an old weaponry room while all of Theron threatens to collapse and crumble at our feet. Ian seems to feel there is a positive spin to all of this—the dangerous threat of my magical father and the permanent ruining of Aras’ mind, that is.
I haven’t had the heart to tell him that I deem this all to end in a horrible, bloody mess.
When I finally broke the dreaded news to Ian, I had expected him to take my words with the same unhurried, and painstakingly understanding, fashion he always shows when I spring something ugly on him. I hadn’t, however, expected him to be so prepared with a backup plan. Although, if I’m hearing him correctly, it may not be all of his doing to begin with. According to his father, announcing our marriage date to Theron’s people is the only way to ensure a decent head start on Knox, allowing us some control in when he will be arriving. It also doesn’t hurt that our real wedding will take place in secret, a week ahead of the scheduled date.
When Ian first told me this, he had watched me as if I were a cornered animal, ready to chew my very limb off for the chance to flee. “If something were to happen to me,” he’d said, “we need to ensure that Theron’s reign will fall into the right hands—your hands, to be exact.”
Because a sulky, fire-wielding princess who is in love with a promised Orien guard is exactly who Theron needs.
“And you’re sure they’re alright with this… your parents, I mean?”
Ian frowns, lines of worry etching his handsome face. “Alright with a powerful princess joining forces with their side? Penelope, of all things for you to be unsure of, it’s not my parents’ trust in you. Sure, they were concerned when they didn’t fully understand your intentions, but that’s all in the past. Now they know your heart.” He shakes his head, and his momentary unease melts away… “Honestly, it’s your feelings we should all be worried about. I’m told tying yourself to a Theron beast for life does have its drawbacks.”
A spout of nervous laughter escapes my throat, and I bounce to my feet, hoping to hide the shiver that threatens to take hold of my frame. Striding over to the stone wall, I select one of the few forgotten swords left hanging on its peg. I turn the hilt over in my palm, my thumb tracing the intricate T carved into its wood—a T that will soon be carved across my heart.
Once Ian had promised me a choice. He’d said I wouldn’t be forced into a marriage I didn’t want. He’d said he’d win me over on his own. It turns out that his parents have made the choice for us.
“It’s so simple, the T,” Ian says, joining me at the wall. He runs his finger along the grooved wood, sending sparks across my chest when his careful touch skims my wrist. “It’s the way Theron has always been. Easy. Laidback. Even boringly so.” He laughs under his breath, green eyes looking up through those dangerously thick lashes as he takes me in. “I used to think Theron had everything, until one day, I realized it didn’t.”
His finger stills against my wrist, the flutter of my pulse threatening to burst free like a winged creature from within. I close my eyes, shielding my vision from this faultless boy who will always be too good for the likes of me. And the moment I do, another dark-haired boy takes his place.
“A lifetime supply of evil magic?” I prod, lowering the sword and freeing my skin from his touch. I open my eyes, stilling my features so that my disappointment won’t show. Aras is gone, and the golden-headed angel stands in his place.
My light, yet I fear I’ll always be too blind to see it.
“Yes.” He grins, the action alone threatening to swallow me whole and spit me back out again. “And who knew I’d find it so appealing?”
“Why, Ian,” I tease, trying anything to steer our conversation back onto a less-dangerous path. One where he knows I am only going along with this plan for the good of Theron and not because my heart has decided to switch sides. “Are your parents aware of your deviant nature? Because I’m worried this might be a deal breaker for my father.”
“A deal breaker for what?” a deep voice calls out, and I startle, the sword slipping from my fingers and dropping precariously close to Ian’s boot.
Ashen help us. Our marriage announcement has been planned for all of five minutes and I’ve already tried to brand him with a lame foot. If I’m lucky, Ian will soon realize he’d be better off on his own quicker than I had hoped.
Recovering my mistake with an agile swipe of his hand, Ian places the sword back on its peg, facing Aras with what seems to be a renewed determination. “Our upcoming wedding! Surely, you’ve heard the good news. We’ve set a date, Aras. Three weeks from today, our lands will finally unite in the alliance we’ve wished for all along.”
I peek up through my lashes, intent on studying the floor and the scuff of my boots. Leave it to Aras to further ruin an already perfectly ruined moment. Though I’m sure I’m discreet, Aras’ gaze doesn’t miss a beat, narrowing in on me like a hawk circling for the kill. He looks different in the bright morning light. Clean-shaven cheeks. Hair tousled enough to make it seem as though he’s styled it to draw attention, rather than to have awoken that way. Blue eyes brewing with anger. And tired. Oh, so very tired.
Aras’ eyes narrow, the calculating wheels alre
ady turning in his mind, and I fight the sudden urge to bolt from the room. “Is this true, Penelope Brave? You were going to run off and set a wedding date without telling your most loyal Orien guard? I do know a stab to the back when I see one.”
Despite my objections, heat licks at my cheeks, and I press my lips, desperate to keep my temper in check. Ian’s hand finds my shoulder, a soft squeeze to settle my rising nerves. My gaze shifts to his face, but his eyes are set on the brooding guard before us.
Ian, it seems, wants me to fight this battle on my own.
“Funny, Aras. I wasn’t aware you could feel much of anything these days, stab to the back or not. But it’s no matter. We were actually on our way to see you. Send a missive to Orien requesting Father’s presence in three weeks’ time. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
“Oh, yes,” he taunts. “Thrilled is one word for it.”
His sharp eyes roam over every inch of my frame, settling on my crossed arms—palms pressed against my chest to keep the heat from seeping out of my pores. The ever-burning flame never to be left unchecked, and Aras, my fiery love, knows this all too well.
A rogue wink finds its way into my vision, as a scowl finds its way into his. Yet for some loathsome reason, I wish for nothing more than for him to gather me in his arms and run for the woods.
“Then it’s settled!” Ian claps, breaking us from our deadly trance and bringing my sanity back with it. “Now, Penelope, we’ll have to find Sireen. I’m sure she’ll want to prepare you for your big entrance.”
“Big entrance?” We both balk, turning to look at Ian as if he’s sprouted wings and taken flight above our heads.
“For the engagement. Theron has a long-standing tradition. I thought you were aware of it.”
My blank gaze must be answer enough.
“It’s a celebration, Penelope. You might even call it a parade of sorts. We’re going to ride through the streets of Theron, and all the city will line the paths, wishing us well along the way.” Ian’s pale cheeks beam with pink, though this time it’s not from embarrassment. He’s happy, I realize, and more than proud to show me off. My only wish is that he had a more deserving bride. “You’ll like it. I promise.”
“Oh, she’ll like it!” Aras beams, switching from insensitive monster to zealous supporter in seconds flat. I’d be angry if I weren’t so impressed. “It sounds delightful, doesn’t it, Princess?”
“I’m sure it will be just as delightful as the missive you should already be preparing for Knox. Now, if we’re finished here, I think I’ll see myself to my rooms.”
I move to cross through the door, but Aras angles his body toward mine, a dangerous gleam sparking in his eyes. “Is this your way of telling me I’m dismissed?” he whispers, words so close to my skin that my shoulders threaten to crawl up my neck.
I square my jaw, eyes meeting his with a dangerous look of their own. “It’s my way of telling you many things, Aras, I can assure you that.”
I break his gaze, shoving my way through the door with more force than necessary, when Ian’s voice calls from the room. “And Penelope, no matter what Sireen may think, you are allowed to wear pants.”
For the first time today, I feel a spark of relief.
Thirty-Nine
“Relax, sister. It could be worse. Ian could be some sick, power-hungry ruler like our father. He could also be ugly as dirt. Seeing how he is neither one of those things, and you’re wearing your favorite black pants, I’d say this day isn’t going to turn out nearly as bad as we had predicted.”
Vivi leans back from my ear, settling into her spot behind me in the open carriage. She runs a careful hand along my simple braid, probably wondering why I refuse any style but the one Aras showed me so long ago. But she doesn’t ask or make a smart remark otherwise. I don’t know if it’s because she knows me so well, or if she’s that good of a little sister. Either way, I’m inclined to believe I’m one lucky girl.
“And what of tomorrow?” I push, watching Ian chat with the young man in charge of our carriage. “And the next day, and the day after that? Will those, too, work out better than we’d hoped?”
Vivi groans, dropping my braid as she shifts in her seat. “Now that, I cannot say, but I do know we have two weeks to think of a way to turn Aras back into his former self. I only meant to imply that perhaps you shouldn’t frown so much. The people of Theron don’t want to see a sour princess, stylish pants or not.”
Now it’s my turn to groan. “You’re right. I’m having a hard time processing this whole wedding. It’s not that I didn’t know it was coming, because I did. I just always hoped it wouldn’t. And now that it’s here…”
“You fancy a run and a long one at that. I know, I get it. I mean, Ian is amazing to the point of where it scares me. Who does he think he is, making everyone love him so? I’d be angry with him if I could, but I don’t want to listen to him apologize for hours on end. At this rate, I can’t believe he hasn’t offered to let me practice putting him to sleep with your dagger.”
Ashen help us. I am, too. Surely, Ian’s generous nature does have some sort of safety switch.
“But Ian isn’t really who matters right now anyway. You have two weeks, Brave. Two weeks until you march yourself down that secret aisle and leave your life with Aras behind forever. Today, you’ll smile and wave in this parade. Tomorrow, you’ll sit for hours on end while every stylist in the land tries to sew you a dress with pants. And in the days that follow, you’ll have countless meetings with Theron’s counsel, listening with a dutiful ear as they recount all the ways you will work to make their city safe. So, you see, Brave. It’s not Ian who needs the most attention right now. It’s not even Aras. It’s you.”
“And what I’ll do if Aras’ will cannot be changed.”
“And what you’ll do if it can,” she says, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I believe in you, Brave. I believe in us. Don’t worry about the future—focus on getting through these next agonizing minutes of today. Together, we’ll save Aras, and once that’s done, then you can worry about who your heart will choose.”
“But therein lies the problem—no matter what becomes of Aras, my heart chose a side so very long ago. No matter how perfect another man may be, I sincerely doubt it would ever be enough to ease the need to have Aras by my side. So, you see, Vivi, the problem is not deciding who my heart will pick. The problem is I already know.”
She leans away, falling back into the seat as Ian climbs up to join me by my side. “Then I’d say we’d better get to work.”
“What’s that?” Ian asks, the light of the sun making his golden hair shine like rays all of their own.
My mind races for an answer, anything to put my future prince at ease, but as usual, Vivi’s wit leaves me burning with a flaming embarrassment of my own. “Brave is getting nervous about the parade. She never has been one for large crowds, or happy people in general. She was raised by a panther, after all.”
“He was a perfectly normal human being until recently,” I grouch, shooting her a well-earned glare.
“So you say, though I think many would agree that’s a fact which remains to be seen.”
This earns a laugh from Ian, and I can’t help but notice how infectious his good nature is, even if it can be dreadfully annoying. Or a teensy bit attractive. Sometimes, I don’t know which. “You see—if you two aren’t the shining example of everything a healthy sibling relationship should be, then I don’t know what is.”
Vivi grins until her button nose wrinkles with glee, and I find myself smiling despite my mounting nerves. She may be off the hook for now, but I’ll pounce her later for the panther comment. She knows it, too.
“Then I suppose I’d hate to see what an unhealthy relationship looks like,” Aras drones, stepping into the carriage and plopping down beside Vivi. I shoot him a questioning look, but he only shrugs. “You didn’t think I’d let Orien’s princess go out on a welcoming parade without her loyal guard, did you?” He tsks. �
��Surely you must know me better than that.”
“On the contrary, some may say I know you a little too well,” I say, not bothering to hide the coolness of my tone.
Behind me, Vivi’s hand flies to her lips, a last effort to cover her mirth. Unfortunately for us, it does nothing for the shaking of our seats. “Too bad our father turned your brain into mush, or else maybe you’d remember.”
“Yes, too bad,” Aras growls, crossing his arms and angling his shoulders away from my rascally sister.
“Excellent! Now that we’re all in a terribly foul mood, I’d say it’s time to celebrate.” Ian’s eyes flash to mine, a playful glint hiding in their depths. He calls out to the man holding the reins, and with a jerk forward, the four of us are off to a parade that I’m positive only one of us really wants to attend.
Passing through the intricate metal gates of the palace and out into the open road, I look up toward Mother’s room, thankful to find her watching from her balcony with Papa dutifully sitting by her side. Lifting her good hand, she points to the darkening sky, the first of the stars beginning to find their place beyond the clouds. Her finger steadies, holding its place until she sees my chin tip up and my eyes drink them in. Satisfied I’ve had my fill, she rests her hand back over her chest, watching as we rattle past.
Look to the stars, she says. But also look to your heart.
I place my hand over my chest, hoping she can still see me as our carriage presses on down the narrow streets and out of view. Her advice doesn’t alarm me, nor does the fact that she met with Theron’s king and queen, agreeing to the announcement of our marriage. She risked her life to save me once, and now, even as she feels the heat of Knox’s fury against her skin, she’ll risk it again for the safety of us all. Protecting Theron has to be our end goal, exactly as it was when she set off to marry Knox so very long ago. But whereas her marriage failed, mine cannot.
The Darkest Night (The Orien Trilogy Book 2) Page 24
