Page 23 of Their Witch Bride

“How do they treat their women?” She’s moving as fast as she can through the halls. She’s moving so fast that I’m having to nearly run to keep up.

She waves her hand in front of her. “The way bloodthirsty monsters would normally treat their wives, of course. But this isn’t a marriage of love or happiness, darling, it’s a marriage where one life is being sacrificed for the many.”

We’re nearly at the front door, and my stomach’s nearly in my feet. “So, I should be expected to fight?”

She glances back at me. “Darling, you’re no Battle Witch. You should be prepared to roll over and take whatever they throw at you. Maybe they’ll be able to toughen you up in a way I never could.”

That sick feeling wells up in me as she tosses open one of the doors to the castle.

Once we step outside, I watch as my whole life is loaded onto the carriage. In front of and behind the carriage, a whole pack of shifters sit atop their horses. Waiting. There’s at least two dozen of them, still radiating anger and distrust. It’s as if the peace treaty was never signed, and they’re just here, expecting an attack at any moment.

Ignore it. Stay alert. You can do this.

My mother surprises me by wrapping both of her strong arms around me and squeezing me tightly. “Don’t screw this up,” she tells me before shoving me toward the carriage.

I stumble but catch my footing before I fall on my face in front of all of these shifters. Straightening my dress, I glance around me. None of the witches are outside. None wait to give their goodbyes or cheer as I drive away. This is really it.

My old life is dead and this new life, married to three shifters, is all I have.

Somehow I need to survive it.

Prince Arlys is suddenly beside me.

A small squeak leaves my lips. “You’re as quiet as a cat!”

He lifts a brow. “We’re not cats. We’re wolves.”

Okay, fair enough.

He offers me his hand to climb into the carriage. My breath catches, but I place my much smaller hand in his, and a familiar tingle moves through my body. It’s strange how tiny I feel next to the huge shifter. Yet, I can’t decide if I feel safe or terrified beside him.

“Princess Tara?”

I glance in his direction.

“Is the step too tall?”

It’s then that I realize I’m just sitting there holding his hand. My cheeks heat, and I shake my head. I don’t look back at him or my mother as I step into the carriage, because I can’t look at him, and because I know she won’t be there waiting.

There’s no one else in the carriage. It’s large and plush, more so than I would have expected from shifters, but it doesn’t matter. I set my bag of weapons down next to me and hold myself stiffly, wondering what I’m supposed to do now.

The horse starts moving. I decide the hell with it, and lean out the window. My mother, of course, has already gone back inside, even though the sentries still have their gazes still firmly on the group of shifters.

My home for the last twenty years slowly passes by. I lean further out the window, and my heart leaps when I see Baldemar. He waves at me and I might not be sure from this distance, but I think he might have tears rolling down his cheeks. He holds up a dagger I made. It’s one of my favorites – the one that’ll give its bearer the strength to face all things.

I smile and place my hand over my heart. Baldemar’s my only friend in the Crystal Realm. My family. He’s the only person who will miss me, but right now, that feels like enough.

Our gazes remain locked until the carriage rolls out of the castle grounds and I can no longer see him, no matter how far I lean out the window. Blinking away tears, I turn and focus on what’s ahead – whatever that may be.

TEN

Arlys

One of my men goes tumbling off his horse and I lift a hand to signal for the others to stop. Drogo is on the ground in an instant, helping him up. Rinan and Drogo are both looking at me, waiting for my decision about what we should do. The truth is, we can’t stay awake through all of witch territory. If we keep going, and they attack, we’ll be useless. And we’ve already been going for days, even before the wedding, constantly on guard with the witch queen herself. My men need a rest. I need a rest.

“We stop!” I say, and my words are met with breaths of relief.

Pulling off the road, we move as far as we safely can, not wanting to be out in the open, at the mercy of any spiteful bitch who comes along the road and wants to send liquid fire raining down on us. The carriage is the trickiest to get off the road, but we manage, and then everyone is unloading the horses and preparing for bed.

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