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“That remains to be seen. The handfasting may be a blessing.”
“The magical prenup,” I whispered.
He nodded, eyes still tracking Ciara as his prince delivered his sister to her fate.
When the pair reached Bain, Lach stepped between his sister and her betrothed and drew a corded length of golden rope from his pocket. He didn’t speak. Instead, he handed the rope to Bain and backed away. As Bain moved forward, Ciara shuffled a bit closer to her fiancé.
A few people were murmuring around us, heads bent together in quiet conversations, and I wondered if I was the only one perplexed by the strangely silent ceremony.
“Okay, what is this?” I muttered. If no one was going to speak, I might need some subtitles.
“It’s an old custom, extending back as far as our histories,” he said quietly, but a few people around us turned ever so slightly to listen. “Back then, if two fae felt called to mate—”
“Mate?” I nearly choked.
“Mate,” he repeated, the word low and gravelly. “Don’t worry. For us, it’s about more than sex. Mating is choosing to bond your soul permanently to another. If a couple felt compelled to do so, they would handfast.” He nodded to Ciara and Bain, and as he did, she held out an arm. It trembled slightly as Bain wrapped the rope around it, crossing the cord several times loosely enough that it draped at her wrist. “Back then, for a year and one day, the couple would live together and wait for the magic to seal. If magic deemed them true mates—if it found their love to be selfless—the binding would become permanent, etched into their skin for the world to see, and their souls would be linked.”
“She’s linking her soul to his?” I hissed, wondering if I should run up there and put a stop to this, wondering why Lach hadn’t already done so. This wasn’t the casual, politically driven arranged marriage she’d been promised. What was Bain up to?
But Roark laughed, the sound hollow, as he pulled his gaze from the ritual to meet mine. “That kind of magic died long ago. I’ve never been to a handfasting that resulted in a mating bond, and I’m guessing neither of them is in danger of committing an act of selfless love.”
He had a point. I settled into my seat, my eyes still glued to the wordless ceremony. Bain slipped his own hand past the loose rope he’d placed on Ciara, closing his fingers around her forearm. Ciara did the same to his. The crowd erupted in applause, but I only stared.
Roark grimaced. “And now we hope we find a reason to call this thing off.”
I blinked at him. “What?”
“Nowadays, a handfasting is like a trial marriage. If either of them discovers an irreconcilable reason to break their public pledge of intent, the entire thing is dissolved. If they had gone through with the banns and been married, there was no way out for either of them.”
It was almost like Bain had done Ciara a favor, although I couldn’t imagine why. Maybe he really believed Lach had tried to poison them with that clover. Or maybe he was up to something. But now Ciara had a way out, unless…
“What if magic seals their bond?” I asked, my stomach twisting as Bain untied the rope to reveal fresh tattoos inked where the rope had bound them.
“It won’t.” He shook his head with a tired sigh. “Like I said, that sort of magic is long dead. There is a spell on the rope, though; hence the tattoos. If one of them declares just cause, the spell will determine if it’s true and release them both.”
But even with that huge loophole, Ciara looked a bit green as Bain lifted her hand for all to see the marks they bore. More applause erupted, and soon a line began to form, every guest joining it to speak with the couple.
I imagined that the only thing worse than being stuck in a trial marriage for a year and a day was pretending to be happy about it while well-wishers fawned over you.
“Get me up to the front?” I asked Roark. He glanced at Ciara and nodded with grim understanding.
We pushed through the crowd, no one raising a complaint when they saw the Nether Court penumbra at my side. I waited to allow Aurora to finish offering her best wishes before I rushed forward and gave Ciara a huge hug, whispering, “Do you need me to kidnap you? Because I will get you out of here.”
She giggled a little and squeezed me more tightly. “I’m fine. Honestly. I have a whole year now.” So she did intend to find her own way out of the handfasting. “But can you save my brother? He’s in a mood.”
It wasn’t the time to tell her that I was likely responsible for his melancholy. I pulled away, promising to do so, before I offered Bain a limp congratulations. Roark waited off to the side, chatting with Shaw, so I started toward him to inform him of my new mission, but he nodded to the bar in the corner. Glancing over, I spotted Lach leaning against it. I mouthed a “thank you,” and Roark bowed before turning to speak to Shaw.
Each step I took in Lach’s direction tightened my nerves. By the time I slipped up to the bar and ordered a single glass of ambrosia, I was wound tenser than a spring.
Lach finally looked at me, but he didn’t speak. Quiet but not angry. No, the shadows in his eyes had nothing to do with me. I considered reaching for his hand, but I held back. Maybe I wasn’t the person he wanted to comfort him. Who could blame him after earlier? For a moment, we simply stared at one another, daring the other to break the silence.
It didn’t have to be complicated. One of us just had to say something. “The ceremony was…”
I couldn’t finish the thought, couldn’t force myself to act like I was happy about it.
His jaw worked for a moment like he was chewing on his response. “I’m not a big fan of handfasting.” He downed his remaining drink in a single swig. “Either way, it delays the inevitable.” He glanced around the room and let out a long sigh. “But I think I’m the only one who isn’t swooning. I feel like I’m ruining the party.”
Maybe it was the honesty of his response that clicked some missing piece into place. Tonight’s ceremony was about politics and plotting. Maybe with us, it could just happen. Maybe we didn’t have to know where it was leading. And maybe we didn’t have to plan for a worst-case scenario. Maybe I could just be here with him and let the rest figure itself out. No magical escape clause necessary.