Page 119 of Vow of the Undead
Close to dawn, the door opened again and I held my breath.
Three servant girls, wiry and with wide eyes not unlike Embla, came into my bedchambers carrying my wedding dress. I kept my attention on the dress, trying to wipe thoughts of Embla and every dead human I’d seen since learning about vampires. Was the truth worth it? Or had life been better when they were mere shadows?
One of the servant girls beckoned for me to step into the dress while the others held each side, careful to not let it wrinkle. Obediently, I stepped forward, and allowed them to pull it up and over me. The smooth fabric seemed to mold to my body as silky as water, tight but with enough give for me to move and breathe freely unlike a tethered corset.
The girl pointed for me to face the mirror while the other two made quick work of brushing through my wet hair. The warm bath had been a welcome reprieve for my body, but the quiet had left me dwelling. My mind had circled the same thought over and over.
I can’t marry the man who sewed Silver’s mouth shut.
I can’t marry King Drakkar.
How can I bear to marry a monster?
For my sister. Staring at myself in the floor-length mirror, I pulled myself into the present moment and raked my gaze over the image of me as a bride.
Like the royals’ decadent embroidery, the wedding gown was a shimmering gray, almost silver. When the light caught it, the fabric nearly shone white, but in the shadows, it was as dark as my inky eyes. Embroidered blood red roses lined the hem, swirling vines and trailed each edge with jagged, dark green thorns. The sleeves grew wider and wider the closer it came to my wrist and more roses encircled the long, swooping sleeves. The back plunged so low it nearly exposed my entire spine to the cold drafty air that swept through Mara’s Keep.
A miserable frown tugged at my mouth and shadows darkened the hollow of my eyes. I was an unbecoming bride, not meant for this moment or this wedding, yet I supposed it was always my destiny. No matter what the Gods had intended, it was the Norns who truly determined each person’s life by weaving their individual’s threads in the way they saw fit. My mother had predicted I’d end up queen of Vylheim, and now I was only minutes away from fulfilling that vision.
Except it’d never come to fruition.
A strange twinge contorted my chest. My mother was a true seerborn, her visions were never wrong.
Before I could dwell on it, one of the servant girls yanked my hair. I yelped and she quietly apologized as she tugged my loose hair into braids. All life and personality and hope had been stripped of these girls. How long had they been serving in Mara’s Keep? How long had they been at the whim of the vampires’ appetites? Though they were likely nineteen, perhaps even twenty years old like Embla, they reminded me of scared children. Of myself. Of Silver…
When I became the huntress, I would end this. Then, even the executioners would no longer be needed, because all the vampires would be vanquished, gone, and we’d be free of this life as their blood source.
They twisted my hair and pinned the intricate braid like a crown at the back of my head while two braids hung down to frame my face. The first girl secured a real, glittering crown just above my hairline. Without a word, they vanished from the room, leaving me to glare at the bride in my reflection.
She was empty, the hollow lifeless husk that Astrid had foretold I’d become, though it wasn’t at her hands that I’d been drained of all life and hope. I’d fought so hard, only to find myself in the same place I was several weeks ago, bound to an arranged marriage, desperate for Silver’s safety, even if I wasn’t Silver anymore.
Though the wedding dress didn’t have a pocket, I couldn’t give up my pendant. In a daze, I sat on the bed and dragged the skirt up to my waist. Securing the chain around my thigh, I let the pendant hang against my bare skin, cold and sharp against my soft flesh.
Staring at the stake beside my pillow, I leaned over and grabbed it. I forced it between the chain and the muscle along my thigh until it was securely pressed against my leg.
A knock echoed throughout my bedchambers and I let the skirt fall over my feet. When I stood, the dress’ long trainflowed around me like shimmering water. I floated to the door, but it swung open before I reached it and two vampires stepped inside. Even if Darius’s guest had offended King Drakkar, neither Ylva and Darius were as cruel and cold-hearted as Dante or Astrid. They hadn’t murdered Embla or tried to kill us. They were just bloodthirsty monsters bent on keeping their food source safe.
Ylva and Darius gave me instructions I only half heard.
“Follow me.”
“You’ll approach the throne veiled.”
“Do not…”
I trailed at their heels, my heart beating slower than I could have ever expected at this moment. Instead of dizzy and overwhelmed with nerves, everything within me numbed. The hallways closed in, the stone walls taller and narrower than I’d recalled.
Think of Silver.
For the second time in twenty years, I was about to see my sister’s face. That, at least, was something to keep my feet moving forward. And perhaps once I laid eyes on her, I’d have the strength to lay the truth bare before Mara. The people needed to know what monsters lurked in Vylheim.
Ylva yanked the veil that’d been tucked beneath my crown and draped it over my face. The doors to the throne room groaned as Darius pushed them open. I stood at the threshold, scanning the vast room through the transparent gray fabric.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes, human and vampire both, royal and even some commoners, stared at me. King Drakkar sat on his throne, his crown like mine but larger and with darker jewels. My gaze fell across every face, my eyes darting for any sight of a face like mine.
Where was Silver?
Ylva prodded me forward with her sharp fingernails poked into my spine. I blinked suddenly and shot her a grave look. A spark ignited through the damp ashes of my numb heart.
