Page 69 of Beltane

He opened his mouth, struggling to find the words, and before he could say anything more, the doors to my sitting room opened and a steward walked through to announce a visitor.

“Her Royal Highness Elizabeth, the queen consort of England.” He bowed before standing aside so Gran could push her way through.

“Oh my dears, my dears,” she said, giving me a gentle smile as she walked closer. “I’ve just heard the most wonderful news.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyebrows, expecting celebrity gossip or word from Edward’s elder brother on his annual world tour.

Gran looked at me with her bright blue gaze, curling her lips into an excited smile. “Yes, Reginald has decided to arrive early. He’ll be here the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh.” I loathed this type of update the most.

“Don’t be so glum,” she said. “Your marriage will be the highlight of the summer. Classically impromptu. We’ll do it in Aberdeen to give it a vintage ambiance.”

She meant secret. After the gossip surrounding Ivy and me, she didn’t want to make it seem like Reginald was my cover-up, though that was precisely what he would be.

I hardly cared about being the princess of Monaco or my upcoming nuptials. If it weren’t for everything else that came with it, the place among my family and a chance to restore my father’s name, I would have taken Carter up on all the times he’d asked me to move to the US and marry him instead.

Of course, that ceased to be a possibility when I left. I hadn’t heard from either of them in weeks, but I preferred it this way. The separation didn’t chafe like it used to. I didn’t lack for sleep nor did I waste away like some invalid on death’s doorstep. The magic had truly left us, but with it went my last bit of hope. I no longer enjoyed the sunrise. I found no pleasure in decadent foods. I no longer found anything joyful about the world around me. At night, when I was my most lonesome, I stared at the moon and swore I heard my prince of darkness calling out to me. I’d become pathetic, and I had no desire to change it.

Likewise, Edward had turned equally somber and morose. Since we’d been home, he hadn’t gone out to his usual nighttime haunts, nor had he paraded his retinue of slags through his rooms. We had both been irrevocably altered by what had happened on Beltane, and nothing Gran could throw at either of us would make much impact.

“Thank you, Gran,” I managed when she’d stopped rambling and looked at me for a response.

“Do try to cheer up before he arrives, yes?” She sighed and pinched my cheeks the way women used to do when trying to add color to their faces. “No one wants to marry a corpse.”

Edward snickered, causing Gran to snap her attention his way.

“And you,” she said, narrowing her piercing gaze. “Have you made up with the duchess of Hanover?”

He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Granny, please.”

“Don’t destroy this match, Edward.” She tsked her teeth at him, reminding me of all the times we’d gotten into trouble as children. “It took a great deal to get her parents to agree, especially after all of your…indiscretions.”

“I am perfectly capable of finding my own bride, thank you.”

“Then why have you not done so?” She raised her eyebrows.

Edward made a weak attempt at an excuse by gesturing vaguely to me and waving his hand around. “I’ve been caring for my little cousin, you know? She’s a bit more work than she looks.”

“Tut!” Gran shook her head and took a deep breath. “You’ll be married by the end of next year. End of discussion.” She was still muttering about her ungrateful grandchildren after she’d waltzed through the room back into the hallway. The steward shut the door behind her, and I glanced at my cousin with a thousand questions on the tip of my tongue.

“Have you talked to Katherine since—” Since you woke up in the Irish forest? Since you came out of a never-ending dream? Since you stopped being trapped by the king of fairies?

“No.” He shook his head. “What is there to say? It wouldn’t work out between us.”

“Well, that’s not very optimistic, is it?”

“Hmm.” He sat his teacup down and put his elbows on the table, a very ungentlemanly thing to do, but it gave him the advantage when he leaned in and narrowed his brilliant hunter-green gaze on me. “You’re the one to talk. When was the last time you spoke to your wife or your husband?”

I scoffed. “I’m not married. Not yet, anyway.” The words tasted vile in my mouth after all these years of saying I’d been wed to three people at the same time. But I wasn’t. I didn’t have the scars on my hands. I didn’t have the gift. Whatever we’d done on Beltane had reversed the magical tie that bound us together. Now, Carter and Ivy could be together untethered, and I’d marry Reginald just like I always should have.

“Miriam,” Edward said, a rumble in his deep tone informing me of his great displeasure with my behavior. “Do you hear yourself?”

“Edward, I’m fine.”

He snorted out a laugh. “Fine? Yes, you’re so fine that all you do is mope around this bloody castle like Henry VIII’s ghost. Will I find you in the showers next?”

Laughter bubbled up my chest and over my lips, and I shoved his shoulders while I tried not to cry. “Hush!”

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