Patience. Discipline. Covenant law.
Dawn creeps closer. I should leave. Return to the infernal courts and attend to other contracts.
Instead I remain exactly where I am, watching moonlight shift across her face, unable to move.
23
ILYRA
The knock rattles through the house around midday—sharp, authoritative, belonging to someone who doesn't wait for permission.
Bram sweeps inside before Vaelra even reaches the door.
"The announcements have been posted for a week." He doesn't greet anyone, just states facts like he's reading inventory. "Time to show the settlement a united front."
My stomach twists.
Vaelra straightens immediately, smoothing her skirts. "Of course. Mariselle and I should join you—make it clear this is a union, not just a transaction. Strengthen your connection with our kind and yours."
"But it is a transaction."
The words slip out before I can stop them.
Three heads turn toward me in unison.
Vaelra's smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Ilyra, go put on something appropriate."
Bram's gaze slides over me, assessing. "Yes. Something that shows you understand your position."
Mariselle smirks from behind her mother's shoulder.
No one acknowledges what I actually said.
I turn and climb the stairs, jaw tight, fingers curling into fists against my thighs. In my room, I yank open the wardrobe and reach past the wedding dress hanging like a shroud.
My hand closes on dark blue fabric instead—one of the dresses Azrathiel brought me. Simple but well-made, the kind of thing a merchant's daughter might wear. Not ostentatious enough to draw questions, but far nicer than anything I owned before.
I dress quickly, braiding my hair with more care than usual. The silver pendant settles cold against my collarbone.
Azrathiel.
I close my eyes briefly, reaching for the connection between us. Just his name, silent in my mind, more plea than summons.
No answer comes. He's probably watching from shadow anyway.
Downstairs, Vaelra circles me once, adjusting my collar and smoothing invisible wrinkles. "Better. Remember to smile."
"And stand close to Bram," Mariselle adds sweetly. "People need to see you're willing."
Bram offers his arm like he's already claimed ownership.
I take it because refusal would cause a scene Vaelra can't afford.
The four of us step outside into harsh daylight, beginning our slow procession through the settlement. Neighbors pause mid-conversation to stare. Children whisper behind their hands.
Bram's grip tightens on my arm.
"Wave," he murmurs against my ear. "Show them you're grateful."