Page 2 of The Deathless One
“Princess!” Callum lunged forward, and she froze in fear.
But then he pointed at her hands, and she realized she’d gotten some of the ash from her burners on her fingers. One touch, and she’d leave dark smudges all over her wedding dress.
“Ah,” she whispered. Her hands shook as she wiped them off on a cloth nearby. “Thank you.”
He nodded before clasping his hands behind his back. “I’ll watch the wedding from the balcony. Good luck.”
The knock she dreaded soon came, and she followed the train of royalattendants waiting for her down the dark halls. Much of their castle had to be reopened for the visiting neighbors. This wing hadn’t even been furnished with the whale-oil lamps that illuminated the rest of her home. The new lighting made her normal chambers much more welcoming than the guttering torches of this unfriendly wing. Black soot seeped down from the ceilings, dripping through the stories above her head to meld with the years of candle smoke that stained the walls.
Her mother waited for her at the end of the hall. Queen Rhiannon of Inverholm was stunning, no matter what day it was. But on the day of her daughter’s wedding, her mother was exquisite.
Gray hair curled carefully around her face, braided in intricate knots all the way down her back. Her azure gown was the same color as the depths of the sea that surrounded their peninsula kingdom. Gemstones decorated every limb, from neck, to wrist, to fingers. Her ears glimmered with more diamonds, but the stony expression on her face did not match her sparkling attire.
Jessamine bowed low. “Mother.”
“You do not have to do this.” The queen’s voice echoed through the hall, bouncing back a hundred times before it faded. “We could yet save this kingdom.”
They both knew it was a lie. The plague had cut them off at the knees. No one could work, and those who did got sick. The kingdom didn’t have the money or the means to cure the plague, and if it were left unchecked, soon there would be no one in Inverholm at all.
“I wish to marry him.” She stood strong and tall, her shoulders broad as they held the weight of her lie. “I wish to save my home.”
Her mother’s eyes saw straight through her, and Jessamine’s heart ached, knowing the lie now stood between them. But one of them had to do something. And her mother had already tried and failed to fix this problem.
This was their last and only choice.
The queen nodded and held out her arm for Jessamine to take. Together, they descended through the darkness and stepped out into the brilliant sunlight illuminating the courtyard, where a crowd awaited.
Leon Bishop had brought a small entourage. A few dukes and duchesses all wore the customary black garb of his kingdom. All the others—guards, maids, and footmen—were in dark shades as well, though they stood out with their pressed white collars. They looked like guests at her funeral, and she’d never hated the color black more.
Her people intermingled with his, wearing navy and other shades of blue. Most of them were nobility, hoping to get a good word in before the merger of the kingdoms. All were running like rats from a sinking ship toward what they hoped might save them.
The image of them all wavered in front of her as her gaze turned inward. Her vision blurred and the crowd became a bruise that spread throughout her kingdom, smudges of black and blue, just like the ones hidden underneath the sleeves of her wedding dress.
Leon waited at the altar, all handsome golden man dripping in rich colors. In contrast to the shadowy shades he made his courtiers wear, he was clad in a pale cream suit edged in golden threads, the picture of conquering wealth, framed by the sea behind him. The entrance gates were now closed, the seal of her family crest ensuring they were locked—their giant raven spread its wings over the entire doorway. The courtyard became a balcony that extended out over the water, the only part of the castle without walls. A sheer cliff dropped down to the channel that led into the city.
She ignored everyone around her and instead stared out at her kingdom. Her home towered over the sea, and everything spread out from there. The Water District was tucked against the coastline, with its tall, five-story homes packed tightly against each other. All the city’s water was first pumped through the sewers and then into the manufacturing plants for filtering. The Factory District lay to its left, belching out pillars of smoke. The Merchant District that spread thin beside the border so tradesmen didn’t have to travel deep into Inverholm. Both the Pleasure District and the homes of the nobility were tucked up against the massive stairwell that led to the castle gates.
Leon had supplied his own priest, of course, and that left her mother to walk with her all the way to the front of the crowd. The onlookers took their seats as the priest intoned some nonsense about matrimony and gods.
She heard a whisper from the book of witchcraft. No god would bless their union. They’d all died years ago, and the echoing cries of her people in mourning trailed like ghosts through her mind.
Leon grabbed her hands in his, icy fingers lacing through her own. When he squeezed, she looked into his eyes and wondered if she’d ever find him handsome. Oh, he was fine enough. Everyone said so when the nobles from Orenda visited, which they did every year for the harvest festival. Golden locks often flopped in front of his eyes, and she’d seen many noblewomen brush that lovely hair back for him. His blue eyes were so pale they were nearly white in some lights. Angular features, broad shoulders: he was a handsome man by every regard.
She just didn’t want him. Never had. Not when they were younger, and certainly not now.
They’d known each other since they were children, and she’d always seen the cruel edge to him. And now, after they’d sacrificed her to him, she could see it even more clearly. He’d arrived two nights ago with the rest of the Orenda guards. It had taken only a few hours for her to see that harsh nature again.
“Are you excited?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the priest’s droning.
Jessamine had no idea how to respond. No, she wasn’t excited. She loathed the idea of getting into bed with him tonight, especially considering that she knew what he would expect. Kissing. Touching. Lingering underneath the covers, where so few men had ever touched her, and she didn’t really want them to. Men were too… boring. She found far more excitement in researching witchcraft than in clumsy kisses and fumbling hands.
“I am,” she replied. Her voice was a breathy whisper. A lovely sound that only a princess could make. She’d spent her entire life developing that exact sound.
“And you’ve given up all that… nonsense?” He stared at her a little too hard.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His fingers squeezed hers almost to the point of pain. “I have friendsin high places, remember? A little rumor reached my ears that you’ve been dabbling in magic.”
