by Bekah Harris
But when her mother gave her arm another squeeze, Ivy remembered her last tutoring session. In Faerie, in the Seelie and Unseelie Realms, humans were less than. They could even be taken as slaves, though the practice was no longer widely accepted. So betraying every instinct in her body, Ivy inhaled, slowly releasing the breath until the cold air and Winter magic retracted back into her. Ardan stopped in front of the stairs that led to the throne and bent into a sweeping bow.
“I have brought my fair princess a gift,” Ardan said. “A true offering that reflects my hope to give you all your heart desires.”
The entire ballroom erupted into applause.
Oh, my God, what a disaster.
Somehow, Jules managed to keep her face blank, which had to be some sort of miracle of the universe. Maybe she realized just how crucial this moment was. Ivy met her eyes, trying to tell her how sorry she was, trying to somehow telepathically communicate to just play along. She hoped Jules was getting the message.
Ivy stared at her best friend, suddenly dizzy.
The world around her tilted and danced. She blinked.
Gently, Lyric nudged her.
Remembering her mother’s warning, Ivy plastered on the brightest smile she could manufacture and dipped into a low curtsy. “My prince does me such an honor. What a splendid gift you have brought for me.”
Ardan bowed again, exaggerating the movement and holding her eyes. That arrogant smirk quirked up his mouth on one side, and he was so sure of himself, Ivy wanted to slap him hard enough to break the sharp bones of his cheek. Did he really think this would make her happy? Did he really seek to give her a special gift? Or was this an insult? Another test designed to make her stumble in front of her people?
Well, if so, she would play her part.
Fighting against a strange, threatening vertigo, she raised her chin and held out her hands. “May I?”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Ardan said. Then, he passed the silver leash to Ivy. Smiling, she addressed her court. “My first pet!”
Again, the crowd applauded, and Ivy stepped close to Jules, close enough to whisper in her ear. “Don’t say anything, and just go with what I’m doing.”
With that, Ivy gave the leash a gentle tug before passing her best friend off to Bear. “Take her to my room, and don’t let anything happen to her.”
“Yes, Your Highness,” Bear said.
He met her eyes, holding them for a moment, as if to gage the extent to which she was okay. She didn’t say so, but “barely hanging on” would be accurate. As Bear took the leash from Ivy, she squeezed Jules’ hand.
“I’ll be there soon,” she whispered. “I am so sorry.”
Jules gave her a weak smile before following Bear out the back door of the ballroom.
When Ivy turned around, Ardan was still waiting, his hand extended, to take their first dance. She expected to feel angry with him, but all her fury had been somehow replaced by a light feeling, as if she were floating in a sky filled with clouds. She would smile and flirt and dance tonight with her prince.
Tomorrow she would get mad. Tomorrow she would get even.
Taking his hand, Ivy allowed Ardan to pull her to the dance floor, where the crowd had parted to make room for the “happy” couple. Ivy glanced at her mother, as she framed her arms for a waltz, just as she had practiced. Queen Lyric smiled and nodded her approval, holding her eyes for a moment as if to urge Ivy to continue her performance.
“Do you like your gift?” Ardan whispered, pulling her close. “You have looked so lonely these last few weeks, I thought a friend might bring you some comfort.”
Ivy’s traitorous heart thudded against her rib cage with his touch. She swallowed the nerves that wriggled from her stomach to her throat.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I have missed Jules and will be happy to have her back.”
“Finally,” Ardan said. “It was my last effort to win your heart since my mother’s ruby didn’t meet your expectations.”
Ivy met his eyes, dark and intense, as the music began. The necklace had been an heirloom? Had belonged to his mother? The music was having a strange effect on her, though. Each note seemed to reverberate through her bones, echoing in a haunting tune that left her mesmerized. Ardan pulled her forward, and she followed his movements as their dance began.
“I’m sorry,” Ivy said. She was having trouble remembering what they’d been talking about. “I didn’t realize the necklace was special. I just thought—”
“That I was trying to buy you off,” he finished. “Yes, that part was abundantly clear. I would never expect to win you with gifts. I only wish for you to give me a chance. I understand that everything has changed for you all at once. But we will never be friends if you don’t at least try to let me in.”
She squinted her eyes, staring into his, trying to gage his sincerity as he spun her across the floor. The onlookers oohed and aahed as the future of the Winter throne danced expertly in the middle of them all. Was Ardan telling her the truth? Was he being sincere? Even her mother had urged her not to trust him. Yet, as the music hummed hypnotically in her ears, she found herself enjoying the way Ardan lifted her from the floor as he spun her into the next step, and she grew dizzy and light in the revelry, as if her body now commanded her thoughts, rather than the other way around.
The music in the background intensified, as if their dance was setting the rhythm and meter, rather than the music itself. And then she was spinning and spinning, her head growing lighter and lighter as they moved across the floor. For the first time in weeks, laughter rose from her chest like weightless bubbles. She felt wild and free like a bird gliding on the wind, its wings spread wide.
Then, suddenly, the music stopped, and the world was clear again. Ardan leaned over her body, dipping her low to end the dance. Her heart raced from the movement and the proximity of their bodies. Before she realized what was happening, Ardan pressed his lips to hers, pulling her toward him. The crowd broke into lively applause, but as Ardan’s lips moved against hers, every sound but the pounding of her heart faded into the background. She wound her arms around his neck, returning the kiss.
“That will be quite enough.”
When Ivy opened her eyes, Queen Lyric stood over them with a tight smile. Her words and tone reflected amused admonishment, but her eyes flashed angrily in Ardan’s direction. Why was she so mad? He lifted her in his arms, steadying her before passing her off to her mother. But the world was still spinning.
“What’s happening to me?” Ivy whispered.
“Prince Ardan, my guards were supposed to have informed you that my daughter is not yet accustomed to the music and wine at our revelries. I would hate to think you took advantage of that.”
Ardan bowed, and strangely, he split apart as if there were two of him. Ivy laughed at the sight before her mother’s words registered. Wine? Music?
But Ivy had only had the one glass…
“I apologize, Your Majesty” Ardan said, “but no such message was ever delivered. I had no idea she had never tasted Fae wine. Please don’t think the worst of me.”
Queen Lyric narrowed her eyes at Ardan, and suddenly, Ivy was being lifted, though Ardan was standing still in the middle of the dance floor. She blinked in confusion until finally Lochlan’s face blurred in front of her.
“Am I drunk?” Ivy asked.
She’d had wine before, but she’d never felt like this.
“Very,” Lochlan replied.
“Is it obvious? Does everyone know?”
“I’m afraid so, your Highness.”
So Ardan had managed to make a fool of her in front of her people. How humiliating. She threw her head back with every intention of groaning, but it was laughter, rather than anguish, that filled the space between them as Lochlan carried her from the room.
Chapter Twelve
Jules had followed Bear from the room as Ivy passed her off—like she was some sort of trophy or prize. Was she totally delirious, or had
her best friend just announced to the room that Jules was her first pet? When the guard had closed the door to the ballroom, Jules dug her heels in, tugging against the leash Ardan had forced her to wear. What did a girl have to do to get a little dignity in this place? When Bear stopped and turned toward her, Jules gave him her most venomous glare.
“Do you mind?” She pointed to the silver collar around her neck. “My appreciation for kinky proclivities goes only so far.”
She expected Bear to smirk at her good humor, but instead, he just looked pissed. More than pissed, he looked like he could kill someone.
“What the friggedy frack happened between the last day of the semester and the time that arrogant prick showed up and tricked me into coming with him?”
Bear looked over his shoulders, scanning the hall. “Not here. It isn’t safe.”
Music from the ballroom echoed through the halls, making her feel lightheaded. Which was…weird. Bear cast her an apologetic glance and tugged slightly on the glowing silver leash. So they’d have to keep up the ruse for a bit longer.
At least, she hoped it was a ruse.
Jules didn’t know what series of events had led to Ivy disappearing from Kingston Academy other than her new title. Whatever it was, though, Bear had been neck deep in the plot. She followed him down a bright hallway glimmering white with prismatic flecks that looked like ice. Jules shivered, rubbing her arms. It was cold as the devil’s heart in this place.
Jules glanced from door to door, wondering which one was Ivy’s and what her room would look like. To say the least, this place was a big step up from the KA dormitories. Finally, Bear slowed his pace and lingered in front of a bright white door, intricately carved with wintry designs—snowflakes and trees, all of them outlined in sparkly silver. Bear quickly inserted the large key in the door and twisted it. With a loud pop, Ivy’s door unlocked and creaked open. Always the gentleman, Bear stepped aside to allow Jules inside.
“Ah, Sir Gawain,” Jules said with relief. “Good to know that chivalry isn’t dead everywhere—um, where, exactly, are we, if I could be so bold?”
Bear peeked outside once more before closing the door, as if he was making sure they were alone.
“You’re in the Winter Court of Faerie, a world outside the human realm. It’s made up of two realms, the Seelie and the Unseelie. The seasonal courts are all a part of the Seelie Realm, which branched off from the Unseelie Realm centuries ago. Or, more accurately, the Unseelies were forced out.”
“Right….” Jules said. “Since the Unseelies are obviously so charming.”
“Basically,” Bear said, his mouth quirking up. “You’ve met Prince Ardan, so I’ll let that speak for itself. Now, how did you get mixed up in all of this? Ivy is going to be furious.”
“Well, maybe if Ivy had actually trusted me enough to tell me what was going on, I wouldn’t be mixed up in all of this.”
Bear shook his head. “She was trying to protect you. She didn’t want you to be in any danger. She thought it would be easier if…”
“If she just disappeared without a trace? If I lived the rest of my life never knowing what happened to her? Blaming myself for missing something important? She should know me better than that. You both should have.”
The leash around Jules’ neck jangled as she moved. “Do you mind? My flea collar is getting a little uncomfortable.”
“Sorry,” Bear said.
He walked toward her and fumbled with the impossible clasp, but the damn thing wouldn’t budge. Figured.
“I’m going to have to freeze it,” Bear said. “Don’t move.”
Jules watched in fascination as he held up his palms, his fingers lengthening into lethal points of what appeared to be ice. Placing his other hand between her neck and the collar, Bear used the sharp points to pick the lock. Finally, there was a loud click, and the collar fell away from Jules’ neck and into Bear’s hands.
“Thank you,” Jules said.
She rolled her neck and smoothed the sensitive skin, now bare, with her cold hands.
“Now, tell me how you got yourself involved with Prince Ardan. How did you get here?”
So Jules told him. About returning to Ivy’s empty room and searching for her. About Nan’s emails. About Ardan’s sudden appearance in the doorway.
“So you made a deal with Prince Ardan?” Bear asked.
“Yes. I agreed to—”
“Don’t,” he hissed. “Don’t say anything yet.”
He took her hand, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. “Did he mark you? Did you seal the deal in any way?”
“I don’t know,” Jules said. “We shook on it, but I don’t think he left a mark.”
“Did he touch you anywhere other than your hand?”
Jules thought back to the strange way he had shaken her hand before entering the Winter castle. Her chest filled with cold, inky dread. She turned her arm over and stared down at the crease of her elbow, where Ardan’s thumb had pressed into her. There, barely visible, was a small dark mark, faint like a birthmark, in the shape of a plus sign.
“The Iron Cross,” Bear said, dropping her hand. “If you tell me about your deal or if you lie to Prince Ardan, this mark will start to burn. It will spread over your entire body until…”
“Until what?” Jules said. She was really starting to freak out. “Bear, tell me what happens if I break the vow.”
“The mark will sear through you, burning you up until you die.”
Jules stumbled back, trying to absorb what Bear had just said. It couldn’t be permanent. It couldn’t be.
“You can take it off, right? You can use your magical voodoo or whatever it is to remove it? Bear, tell me you can get this thing off me!”
She held out her arm to him. But the look on his face told her everything she needed to know. And then, she remembered what Prince Ardan had said about Ivy. “If I’m going to marry her, I have to make sure that she is mine and mine alone.”
Oh. My. God. If Prince Ardan was willing to brand his fiancé’s best friend to make sure Ivy stayed faithful to him, what would he do to Ivy if he found out she was in love with her guard?
“Whatever Prince Ardan needs from you, he needs it badly enough to kill you if you reveal it. Jules, you can’t ever tell Ivy or anyone else the terms of your deal.”
“So I just have to do what he wants?”
Bear met her eyes. Jules had been a faithful admirer of Bear’s baby blues—sharp, piercing, and shocking. But now they just looked tired, haunted. Worried. Slowly, he nodded.
Tears stung Jules’ eyes. She had wanted to see Ivy so badly, she agreed to Prince Ardan’s deal without thinking it through. She held out her arm and stared down at the mark that branded her as the tears slid from her eyes. Now, she would have to betray her best friend to live or betray Ardan and die.
“There’s nothing you can do? Can’t anyone do anything?”
Bear shook his head. “That bastard!” He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. “It’s an Unseelie mark, so the only way to have it removed is by an Unseelie more powerful than Ardan.”
“Okay,” Jules said. “That’s not so bad, right? We just have to find someone more powerful than Ardan and then get it removed.”
Bear burst into hysterical laughter. Worry was not a good look for him. Clearly, things here in Narnia were not as good as they were back at Kingston.
“What?” Jules said. He was really starting to freak her out.
“Prince Ardan is an Unseelie Royal. There is no one stronger than him—except another Unseelie Royal. And King Odrhan will never remove a mark his son put there. It might compromise Ardan, and he’d never betray him.”
“Well, what about the other one? Doesn’t he have a brother? Could he remove it?”
“Padraic? Not likely. The Unseelie royals may fight, but they are fiercely loyal. One would never betray the other. Padraic is next in line to the throne. He’d never do anything to anger his father.”
Suddenly, the door behind them burst open. Before Jules could register what was happening, Bear had pushed her behind him and pulled a blade from the sheath he wore on his waist. He put it back when he saw who it was. Jules heart rattled inside her ribs as a tall, elfish man with pale skin and dark hair rushed into the room, carrying Ivy in his arms. Her best friend threw her head back, silvery white strands of hair escaping from jeweled pins intended to hold them in place.
“Oh, my God, is she drunk?” Jules blurted.
Under different circumstances, it might have been hilarious, but the expressions Bear and the other guy wore were so intense that Jules hoped her best friend hadn’t ingested anything deadly.
“Extremely,” huge dude said. “The queen ordered me to put her to bed.”
Bear sighed and rushed toward Ivy’s bed, pulling back the covers. “Did anyone notice?”
“Only everyone inside the ballroom,” he said. “The Unseelie Prince certainly took full advantage of the opportunity as they danced. Between the Fae wine and the music, she was flying high. Queen Lyric is furious. She will have words with King Odrhan tomorrow.”
Something changed in the air, then, Jules noticed. The space around them grew deathly quiet, and the temperature seemed to drop by several degrees. When she looked at Bear, he was clenching his fists at his sides, and his jaws indented at his cheeks from grinding his teeth.
“I don’t understand,” Jules said. “Did she embarrass the queen or something?”
The man looked in her direction, as if noticing Jules for the first time.
“Lochlan, this is Jules, Ivy’s best friend. Jules, this is Lochlan, head of Queen Lyric’s guards.”
“And no, she did not embarrass the queen, but Ivy will feel embarrassment and betrayal once the drunkenness wears off.”
“Did he touch her?” Bear asked.
“Barrett, this is not something you can afford to be angry about. She belongs to him, not to you.”
“Um, excuse me, but doesn’t Ivy belong to herself? I mean, what with the women’s suffrage movement and—”
