Strange. I hadn’t given him my blood.
“Do you accept your charge?” the priest asks me. I have to hold back my thoughts, because in this moment, I don’t want to accept. I want to do the opposite. I want to run before another attack breaks out.
There is still time to run, Arlet.
I open my mouth to say something, then think of why I’m doing all of this in the first place.
“I submit.”
A stone lands in my belly with a plop.
That fucking annoying priest continues. “As it was in the first age, as it shall be in all ages: the bride is claimed, and the royal house is strengthened. By the king’s strength and by her surrender, the union is made eternal.”
The words sound distant.
Arion takes both my hands in his. “Let the world see,” he says, low enough for only me, “that you are mine.”
The priest nods. “Seal your vows.”
Arion leans closer. His breath is warm, faintly scented with smoke and honeyed wine. I recoil from him. Not just inside, but outwardly. He looks confused. Furious even.
And then a sound tears through the garden.
Not applause. Not wind. A single shattering impact.
One of the pillars of the dome above us starts to come down. I am pulled out of the way by my husband.
Guards emerge from nowhere, trampling over the flower petals and delicately arranged decorations.
From the rubble and dust, a silhouette forms—tall, broad shoulders and a cleaver in one hand.
Vann. I am frozen in my spot. My legs grow roots, fixing me in place.
No.
“Arion!” His voice breaks through the roar, rough and raw.“Release that woman.”
Chapter 29
VANN
After I left Arlet’s room, destroyed and smelling like her, I got another message from Liana. The timing was almost too perfect.
They were just outside the city, and Mrath was still planning another attack during the wedding. I was instructed to hide and wait for her entrance. Then I would be able to take Arlet away to safety.
When I’d gone to her room, she’d refused me again. But if she could see that Mrath was coming, that she intended to make good on her promise to kill Arion, she might finally abandon this place.
It’s my last hope.
Just before the ceremony began, I snuck into one of the corners of Nicnevin’s temple. Perched high and wedged between a series of columns, I stare at the king of the Elven Dominion as he stands over my mate.
All I see is her tear-streaked face as I told her I love her. The hurt in her eyes.
I have a long way to go if I am to win her back.
“Before the eyes of the ancients and the bloodlines that shaped our people,” the holy man intones, “we gather to witness the binding of King Arion to the woman brought forth to serve his house.”
Each word falls like a hammer, driving nails into my flesh. This is not marriage. It’s consecrated ownership.