Page 1 of A Crown of Tears and Treason
Chapter
One
EVIE
Clan weddings were one of the most dangerous events in all of Malhaven. Even I knew that, and I’d been sheltered from this vicious life for more than a decade.
My family had taken extra precautions to make sure my wedding was the exception, though. Warding spells up, no weapons, and enough sentinels to make our small sacred island shake when they marched.
I came prepared, too.
The endless rows of borrowed jewels caging my neck would draw all the guests’ attention away from the family bone pendant I’d insisted on wearing–and the secret pocket I’d sewn into the corset myself, which hid a bigger secret.
The risk of being discovered drew beads of sweat above my brows.
I was scared.
I was being forced to get married.
I hated my groom, the heir of the Serpent Clan, and wished nothing but the worst on him.
And, worst of all, I had to lie to my family about all of it.
“I still don’t like it.” Allie, my closest cousin, paced in the middle of the luxurious room, going from throwing me concerned glances to narrowing her eyes at the hulk of a man standing guard at the door. He was nameless and emotionless, staring at nothing and saying even less. His hands were big enough to snap Allie’s neck. “This is a family matter and he’s a stranger.”
No, he was a safety precaution in case I got cold feet and vanished.
“Oh, you know Fabrian.” I tried waving off her concerns, but my hands shook to the same frightened beat as my voice. If anybody asked, these were just wedding jitters. “He just wants to keep me safe.”
Safe, imprisoned–Fabrian didn’t know the difference. But I finally did.
Allie stomped right over to the Serpent guard, staring up at him with the confidence only a name like hers could have in the ruthless Clan world. Even while annoyed beyond belief, Allegra “Allie” Vegheara was a vision of confidence in a blue dress that looked like it had been tailored by the Marea Luminara sea surrounding us. The gauzy fabric clashed with the blinding white marble floor. She was no longer the toothless four-year-old I’d run around in the mud with during summers spent at our grandfather Constantine’s fortress.
She was half the guard’s size, but ready to throw spells if need be. “Are you going to tell him everything that’s said in this room?”
The guard nodded.
“Perfect.” She looked at me over her shoulder. “Evie, you can’t marry that whoring, ruthless waste of a man.”
My eyes widened with fear. “Allie–”
“What’s Fabrian going to do?” She waved an elegant hand. “Drag me in front of the Council for speaking the truth? Not even he can summon the magistrates for such a petty grievance.”
I had no idea. Unlike my cousins, I’d grown up wild. I didn’t know how to negotiate a deal, sniff out lies, hide cargo, or use protection spells. Shameful.
“Out of all Clan heirs, what could possibly possess you to marry Fabrian?” Allie sighed as she readjusted my ridiculous train.
It was either walk down that aisle or my cousins, the only family I had left, would be killed. I’d already lost my parents, nobody else was dying because of me.
“He saved me,” I lied, hoping the veil shrouding my face was enough of a cover. Fabrian really had spared no expense when it came to this blasted wedding. The veil was made out of Elekan silk, woven by the vestals in the sacred mountain cloisters. Light as air and opaque on one side, I could see everything, from the way the guard fisted his hands, to how Allie’s eyes filled with concern, but they couldn’t see my face.
I wouldn’t have been able to lie to Allie otherwise. She was The Huntress, future leader of the Protectorate, one of the oldest and most powerful Clans in all the continent. Our Clan. Her piercing green eyes could make assassins kneel with one glance. Songs had been written about her long, dark hair that looked untamed even while pulled back in intricate braids. Her mind was as sharp as her tongue, and her heart as true as her arrows.
“Evie.” Allie pinched the bridge of her nose and flicked her fingers. “I know you’re not used to Clan life and rules. But if someone saves you, you send them a dozen of your best cattle, a case of your oldest wine, and promise to name your firstborn after them,ifthey trust you enough to give you their full realname. You don’t go around marrying them. You’d have a damn harem by the time you hit twenty-five.”
“It’s more than that. Fabrian–”Threatened to drain the blood out of you, scorch the entire Protectorate Clan to the ground, and make me watch.“–rescued me when I most needed it. You know how horrible living in the mountains was for me.”
At least the parts I’d told her, after I’d shown up drenched in my parents’ blood at the Protectorate stronghold, scared and scarred.
