Page 3 of Crown of Light and Ashes
Silence falls like a blade. Even my courtiers seem to collectively hold their breath.
"What?" Nesilhan whispers, her composure finally cracking.
"You heard me perfectly well," I reply, circling her slowly. "A marriage alliance between our houses. You, to be specific, as my wife. That would satisfy the blood debt."
"That's absurd," she hisses. "Marriage alliances are for political arrangements, not blood debts."
"Are they not both a form of contract?" I ask reasonably. "Besides, I'm being quite generous. One life for a lifetime of service seems rather balanced to me."
"You can't seriously—" she begins.
"The alternative," I continue, voice hardening, "is that I separate your brother's head from his shoulders right now, and we risk open war between our courts. Is that your preference, Lady Nesilhan?"
Her hands clench into fists at her sides, and I can practically feel her hatred radiating like heat. It is intoxicating.
"Why me?" she demands. "There are other daughters of Light Court nobility. Why demand specifically—"
"Because you're the one standing in my throne room," I interrupt smoothly. "Because you had the courage to face me directly. Because," I lean closer, my voice dropping to a whisper meant only for her, "I find your defiance... entertaining."
She recoils slightly, her golden eyes widening.
"And," I add, raising my voice for the court to hear, "because as the sister of the offender, your service most directly balances the scales of justice."
I turn to Councillor Taren, who looks ashen. "What say you, Councillor? Your daughter's hand in marriage to save your son's life and prevent war? Seems a rather obvious choice to me."
Taren looks between his children, naked anguish on his face. Political calculation wars with paternal protectiveness. But we all know which will win. It always does.
"Father, you can't—" Nesilhan begins.
"I accept the terms," Taren says heavily, unable to meet his daughter's eyes.
"Excellent!" I clap my hands together, shadows dancing around me in response to my satisfaction. "We shall hold the ceremony tomorrow at sunset. How fitting—the threshold between day and night for the union of shadow and light."
"Tomorrow?" Nesilhan gasps. "That's impossible—there are preparations, arrangements—"
"I'm a rather spontaneous person," I reply with a sharp smile. "Besides, the sooner we satisfy the blood debt, the sooner your brother is officially pardoned. And," I add, letting my gaze travel slowly down her body, "I find I'm suddenly quite eager to be married."
Gods, she is magnificent. The way her chest heaves with indignation, the flush of anger on her cheeks, the proud set of her shoulders even in defeat. I want to possess every inch of her, to see that defiance transform into something else entirely. The urge to claim her immediately, right here on the cold marble floor, strikes me with unexpected force.
Nesilhan must have read something of my thoughts in my expression. She takes an instinctive step back, eyeswidening slightly.
Perfect. Let her see exactly what awaits her.
Speaking of her brother... I turn to where Zoran still kneels, chains binding him to the floor. He stares at us in horror, clearly understanding that he is being spared at the cost of his sister's freedom.
"Release Lord Zoran," I command the guards. "He is a guest now, not a prisoner. See that he's given quarters befitting his station." I pause, then add with deliberate cruelty, "Near my personal chambers, I think. So he can be close to his beloved sister after the wedding. He might even hear us if we're feeling particularly... enthusiastic."
Several courtiers cough to hide their laughter. I don't bother hiding my smirk.
The guards move to obey, unlocking Zoran's chains. He stumbles to his feet, looking broken in a way that has nothing to do with physical mistreatment.
"Nesilhan," he whispers, reaching for her.
She takes his hands, her face a mask of determination. "It's alright," she murmurs. "I choose this."
Her words, meant to comfort him, send a spike of irritation through me. She doesn't choose this—I do. She is mine now by right of ancient law, by blood debt, and most importantly, because I want her. The sooner she accepts that, the easier her transition to Shadow Court will be.
"Emir," I call, "see that Lady Nesilhan is escorted to appropriate chambers and provided with everything she needs for tomorrow's ceremony." I pause, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "And send up my grandmother's wedding dress. The black one with the plunging neckline. I believe it will suit my bride perfectly."
