“I wish you would tell me what you know.”
I wish I could tell you.
Great. Just like how she cannot hurt Arion or Thorne.
I lie on the floor until the world stops spinning. The collar hums against my throat, a cage with a heartbeat.
And in the distance, through the shattered quiet of the palace, I swear I can feel the faint pull of another heartbeat answering mine.
Sleep tugs at me, leaving me lonely and confused.
Chapter 24
ARLET
The next morning, I awake alone.
Light peeks through the curtains, and I see no sign of anyone trying to enter.
Was I wrong? Was it not actually Vann who had come?
Will Vann try again? Is he even alive?
I…don’t know. The thought of him dead shocks through me, and I sink to the floor. My eyes burn. This place will be my grave.
Merlina, Eslina, and Kiala do not come to my room. Instead, regular servants arrive to bathe, feed, and dress me. I accept their help reluctantly and comply when they explain that my presence is required at a court meeting.
Though…I don’t know where my ladies-in-waiting are, and that worries me.
My dress today is much less restrictive. The deep, muted green makes me seem unassuming, and it matches the collar I still wear. When we reach the audience hall, I am surprised to see that barely any part of the palace looks damaged. How were they able to clean so quickly? So efficiently?
Hundreds of chandeliers hang from the arched wooden ceiling.Maldita sea, there’s even music playing. It rolls in waves. Strings,flutes, and the slow, deliberate rhythm of drums that mimic the beat of a heart.
The room is filled to the brim with those who have already traveled for the wedding: the lesser courtiers and higher courtiers alike, the mountain lords, and the envoys from the sea region. I recognize some of them from the ball and wonder just how many were lost in the attack.
Thorne sits at the back of the room, on the Throne of Living Wood. Even from here, I feel the pulse of its magic. The connection between it and Arion is strong.
I notice the smaller, less ornate chair set up as some sort of seat of honor. The collar around my throat rubs where it meets my skin. I feel it like a rash today. The weight of it is worse after a night of poor sleep.
Arion gestures for me to join him, and I do. I feel a strange vibration in my collar as I approach his throne. It fades a little when he takes my hand. I almost recoil at the contact, but force myself to stay still. The other guests watch us.
My betrothed’s voice, when he finally speaks, is smooth as oil.
“Let us begin.”
The music fades. The great doors close behind the last of the attendants, and the sound dies like a candle snuffed out.
Arion surveys the room, smiling faintly. “We gather today not in mourning, but in gratitude. My sister’s rebellion has been quelled. The city still stands.”
I glance at him but try not to let my features change. Seems a little…premature. One group of Mrath’s assassins doesn’t equate to an entire movement. How can he say so calmly that the resistance is finished?
A courtier near the front rises. “Forgive me, Majesty, but reports from the lower wards claim the fighting has not fully ceased. Are we certain the threat is gone?”
Arion’s expression doesn’t change. “The only threat to this court is rumor. The rebels were scattered mercenaries, nothing more.”
Murmurs ripple through the chamber. Someone else, a lord fromthe south, leans forward and stares at me long and hard. “Should the wedding be delayed, in case any remain?”
The smile Arion turns on him is soft and terrible. “The gods have tested us,” he says, “and found us worthy. To delay would suggest doubt in their judgment. The wedding will proceed.”