Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
So, though I had not meant to save myself for marriage, I somehow had after all. I allowed Tansy to place the flower crown upon my head and then straightened up and looked in the mirror one more time. I readjusted my sleeves—the better to be certain my bruised wrist was hidden—and nodded my head.
“All right,” I said. “I’m ready.”
And by the Shining Throne, Liath Blackthorn had better be ready too. Ready to die, as soon as I married him…and then found a way to kill him.
4
There was a muted gasp when I stepped out into the courtyard, where the ceremony was being held. All of the High Fae were assembled there, waiting to see me married off to the enemy.
As I walked out into the golden sunlight, I saw their eyes widen. I had the pleasure of seeing Calista and Asfaloth look at each other in puzzlement. Where was the dowdy little cousin they had tormented so often and who was this princess who held her head high?
My Aunt Lyrah was sitting to one side of her children and she gave me a shocked and disapproving look. As for my Father, who was standing to one side of the Joining Arch, his sapphire eyes went wide for a moment and a frown spread across his face.
The Druid Priestess who was to perform the ceremony said nothing but only kept her thoughts to herself and her eyes cast down. She could barely be seen behind the roughly woven hood and cloak she wore. This was one of the only times when a mortal was invited into the Realm of the Fae and she doubtless wanted to keep from offending anyone, lest she be kept forever in the Summer Court to serve at the pleasure of the Fae King.
She probably had an iron amulet around her neck, hidden under her homespun cloak, I speculated. Iron is deadly to Fae of all kinds. It kills lesser Fae and saps the strength of the High Fae almost to the point of death. It would be powerful protection against my kind and knowing how unpredictable my people are, I wouldn’t have blamed the Druid Priestess for thus protecting herself while she was among us.
Holding my head high, I stepped up to the Joining Arch, which had been woven with flowering honey-musk vines. The tiny white blossoms filled the air with a thick, almost cloying scent. I ignored my father’s glare and looked around. Where was Liath Blackthorn? Had he decided he didn’t want me after all?
The thought filled me with a mixture of relief and humiliation. I would never live this down—to think that a denizen of the Unseelie Court would reject me, a Princess of the Seelie Court and leave me at the altar—it was a shame that would follow me all my days.
And yet, if he failed to show, at least I didn’t have to fear my wedding night. Though I was hoping to be able to find a way to kill him before he took me, I couldn’t be sure the opportunity would present itself…
My mind was still racing when suddenly a black rip appeared in the fabric of reality. My mouth opened in a silent O as it grew taller and wider, turning into a vast black oval about seven feet by four feet. And then, out of it stepped the strangest male I had ever seen.
Liath Blackthorn was as my cousins has described him to me…only their descriptions fell far short of the mark. He was immense for one thing—both extremely tall and muscular in a way I had not seen before. All the Fae of the Seelie Court are slender—even the males. But Liath’s biceps bulged and his broad chest flexed with muscle as he stepped out of the portal he must have created.
It was easy enough to see these details, since he wore no shirt. He had on black trousers and a rich black cape clasped around his broad shoulders and joined at the front with a delicate silver leaf. His skin was gray, as Calista had described it, but again, her description could not do him credit. It was the gray of shadows and smoke with a faint, opalescent gleam—in fact, not too far from the color of the underslip I was wearing as my wedding gown.
The vast expanse of smoke-gray skin was decorated in golden tattoos—markings the like of which I had never seen before. They seemed to shift patterns as he moved, gleaming in the dimness. For somehow the sun didn’t shine on him—it was almost as though he had brought a patch of shadow with him from the Winter Court.
“Have you looked your fill, wife-to-be?” His deep rumbling voice startled me and I jerked my head up to stare at his face.
He did, indeed, have curling ram’s horns protruding from either side of his head. They curved from his temples, framing a face that was handsome but scarred—a white ridge ran from his forehead all the way down to his right cheek, narrowly missing his eye.