Page 39 of Heart of Night
“She will make for a beautiful bride,” Ephegos says to Erina, the two men tall enough to talk over my head in the literal sense.
It costs me everything not to scoff or scream or try to pull away from Erina’s hand, which is clutching mine so hard now I remember what shackles feel like. The pressure puts my stiff wrist at an awkward angle, making pain throb there for the first time since the battle against the Flames. I swallow the hiss when the pain shoots all the way to my shoulder until the tattoo stings like it’s been set on fire. Good the dress has short sleeves covering the general area of the inked bird mid-flight. I’d hate having to explain anything to Erina or his court. It’s enough that Herinor, Kaira, and now Clio—and apparently Ephegos—have seen it. The rest of the world can remain oblivious for all that I care.
Clio’s odd silence at the sight of it creeps back into my mind, and I fight the urge to reach for my shoulder and touch the bird hovering there like a real presence.
At my carefully blank expression, Ephegos raises a groomed brow. “Have you informed her, Your Majesty?”
Erina shakes his head, his grip pulling me outward and forward, guiding me into a chair one of the servants is pulling out for me. The sepia upholstery is repulsive, as is the golden paint covering the wooden frames of the chairs.
“I thought the honor would fall upon you, my friend.” That Erina is calling Ephegos friend… My stomach reminds me how little it can handle food with the constant nausea from the news being sprung upon me every other minute.
“Well, Wolayna.” Ephegos waits for Erina to sit to my right at the head of the table before he takes a seat across from me, bracing his scarred hands on the meticulous white tablecloth as he captures my gaze with a fake friendly one of his. “Since you lost your former husband, I’d hate for you to fall back into a life of poverty and stealing.” He clears his throat when his already soft voice breaks into a whisper. No one pays attention to our conversation since they are all whispering and murmuring their own speculations over the seating arrangement at the end of the long table. “So, instead of tempting you to loot King Erina’s ships again, we made an agreement. You become his bride.”
His words hang in the air as if unfinished, and my brain is working overtime to fill in the blanks while keeping myself from reacting to the obvious insults in his statement. “What do you get out of the bargain?” I ask in my sweetest courtier tone, remembering every painful moment of my mother dragging me to noble receptions throughout Meer. I can do this. I can be strong, unbreakable. I can be the Ayna who defies all odds—for Myron, who defied all odds for me.
Erina braces his elbows on the table, leaning into my space as he whispers the answers I’m demanding from Ephegos. “My friend came to my general with an offer I believe everyone in the human realms will benefit from. You are the price, Wolayna. But since you should be already dead, sacrificing you doesn’t feel like too much of a price, does it?”
The gasp escapes my lips—I can’t help it—and I could swear Herinor tenses behind me. I don’t know how far away he is, but I know he won’t leave me alone in here—even when it’s not for my benefit. It’s his orders that keep him glued to me. And perhaps a little bit his honor.
A sour taste rises in my throat, and it has nothing to do with the odor of the colorful, fish-topped salad a servant is placing in front of me. My stomach dips at the thought of potentially more magic-subduing substance in my food.
If only I could feel the power slumbering in my system… It’s been silent for too long, and I wonder if they’ll let me go without the drug long enough at some point for me to recover at least a fraction of it. A fraction would be enough to overpower a human guard and fight my way out.
Absently, my hand makes it to the side of my thigh where it comes to rest upon the outline of the knife, fingers itching to draw it and stab Ephegos in the eyes he’s blinking at me like he can’t quite believe I am finally showing a reaction to the news.
Erina’s mouth is still too close, his breath hot on my cheek and his nose grazing the shell of my ear. I can feel all eyes in the room on us as the courtiers observe what they believe could be a scandal—or their next romantic sensation.
“I will not marry you.” My voice is toneless, so soft I can barely hear myself speak, but determination rings true in it anyway. With all the strength I can muster, I turn my head so my face is lined up with the king’s, put on my sweetest smile as I draw back an inch, and repeat, “I will not marry you.”
Across from me, Ephegos shifts in his chair as if he wants to respond to a comment he obviously isn’t supposed to hear while Erina’s face turns unreadable as he studies me with dark brown eyes glinting with resolution. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, Wolayna. Try to refuse, and I’ll destroy the one thing you hold dear.”
“There is nothing I hold dear anymore.” The words are out so fast I can’t believe I spoke them. But I did, and their meaning makes my life appear even bleaker than it already is.
“Are you so certain? Would you bet your life on it?” His finger comes to rest beneath my chin, tilting my head up an inch so I can’t look away, no matter how much I want to. “Or, let’s say … the life of the male you love, perhaps?”
My heart stops—literally stops. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t remember to keep my expression blank and my emotions locked away. In my shoulder, a light tingle spreads as if something is fighting for my attention.
“Everyone I love is dead. You and your friend”—my eyes dart to Ephegos, who’s doing his best at pretending he isn’t listening in on the conversation, fingers interlaced at the edge of the table—“made sure of that. And your general of course. Everyone I love is dead.”
How Erina remains unfazed is beyond me. He merely twists his mouth into a regal smile, leaning back in his chair, releasing my chin. “Are they now?”
The air is thick, the pressure on my chest making it impossible for me to take the deep breath I so desperately need.
“You will marry me, Wolayna. If you refuse, I will destroy him.” Reaching into his pocket, Erina retrieves a shiny black feather, twirling it between his fingers like he is musing about the meaning of it.
It could be any bird’s feather. Any Crow’s. Ephegos could have forced Herinor to give up one of his.
The panicked pounding at the center of my heart tells me, though, that it belongs to Myron. And that I’m about to lose him all over again.
Twenty
Ayna
Odja is the only one from Erina’s court I see for the next week. No matter how many times I beg him to let me talk to Myron, or to ask the king to let me see my husband, he remains adamant about executing his orders of keeping me secluded in my room. At least, I have Clio who visits twice per day with the task of getting me dressed in the morning and dressed for bed as if she weren’t a princess. Today is no different.
When she steps into the room, her sepia maid’s uniform clashing with her copper hair and jade eyes like it’s actively trying to, I sit up where I’ve curled into myself on the broad bed to forget the world and the impossibility of escaping my fate.
I tried to sneak out of the room three times the first night without success. The palace guard caught me the first two times, and when I opted for the window and climbed down the ropes of Tavrasian wisteria along the palace wall, Herinor was waiting at the bottom, a frown on his features and an apology on his lips as he marched me back to my room. He doesn’t have a choice. His life depends on keeping me in line.