Page 3 of Ties of Death

He glances over and meets my eyes. I drop my gaze, my skin heating with my hurt-fueled anger.

I hoped the rumors of the king of the gryphon clans trickling to me over the years, as few as they’ve been, were false. They whisper that he’s like a demon, quick to strike down any who defy him, holding himself apart from even his allies. But it seems that every single one of them is horribly true.

There’s an air to him, one that’s like staring down a savage monster. It’s not only that he can kill with hardly any thought, but that I have no doubt he wouldn’t hesitate to. Maybe even that hewantsto. My Daenn never would have, but this man is a stranger to me. A stranger who has no qualms about murdering lords and stealing a woman to be his bride. Noqualms about trampling on my heart and marring the memory of what our friendship used to be.

Daenn Henriken was my best friend, but sometime in the past eight years, this man killed him.

2

Steels My Resolve

Rattling jerks me awake. I bolt upright from my bed, thoroughly disoriented for a moment.

I’m in bed in a small cavern room, like the ones I spent my entire childhood in. Somehow, I must have fallen asleep on the flight back, which means someone carried me to this room, laid me in this bed.

My mind offers up vague recollections at the conclusion—low murmurs, strong arms holding me against a solid chest, a smooth gait until my back met the mattress I now lie on.

Was it Daenn who carried me? That he would dare touch me after how he upended my life and betrayed me—my stomach churns at the thought.

Now the door is opening, and I tense, half panicking as if my thoughts might have summoned this new, heartless version of my old friend.

But it’s only a woman, hardly more than a girl. She looks vaguely familiar, but it takes my mind a moment to click the details into place. Last time I saw her, she had pigtails flying behind her as she ran with the other children of the clan.

Even though I place her face, I don’t know her name. As I stare at her, wordless, she cautiously ventures farther into the room with a hesitant smile.

“Good morning, I’ve come with some breakfast and your—your dress.”

My gaze snaps to her hands. In one, she does hold a bowl of something steaming, and despite her distance, I can almost smell the spicy porridge I grew up eating and missed desperately in my years away.

I never could convince the cooks at Tolomon’s manor to make it for me, and Tolomon believed that the best way to combat homesickness was to ignore it entirely. He was my new home now, he’d always said. I didn’t need to drag in vestiges of my old life to muddy the waters. It seemed sweet at first.

Then it just made me want to scream.

I almost reach for the porridge, but then I register the green dress in her other hand.

“Is that a wedding dress?” My words are deceptively calm.

The girl nods. “Yes. I’m to take you to the ceremony hall as soon as you’re finished eating and dressed.”

I swing my feet off the bed and cross the room to her, taking the offered bowl of porridge. Now that I’m near enough, I canactuallysmell it, and it’s even better than I remember. Sweet and spicy, with a hint of tang that probably comes from the rosenberries mixed in.

I move to the rug near the firepit and settle myself on it with far less ease than I used to as a girl. I’m out of practice from living in the lowlands with their high chairs. “This will be all I need. Thank you.” I pour as much dismissiveness into my tone as I can manage, a haughtiness I learned from theVerkslish noble ladies who used it on me when I first came to their court.

It’s somewhat ruined when I take a large bite of porridge, shoving it in my mouth with far less delicacy than is becoming of a lady. But as the flavors hit my tongue, I have to withhold a moan. I desperately missed this.

The girl blinks and sways back and forth a moment, unsure what to do with the dress she holds. “Oh, I just thought—since it’s a bit fancy and all, you might need help dressing. Shall I put it on the bed for you, then?”

I swallow the last of my bite and shake my head. “No. Take it back with you. I don’t need it. I’ll wear what I have on now.”

That pulls her up short. Her eyes go wide, and she gapes at me. “You can’t... that is... you’re wearing black!”

I tilt my chin up. “I am. And I won’t be wearing anything else to my wedding to that snake.”

She flinches back. “Miss—I mean, my lady—you shouldn’t... you’ll make the king very angry”—her voice drops to a whisper on these words—“if you defy him like that.”

Even the clan is afraid of Daenn now. The realization only steels my resolve.

“Let him be angry. Maybe he’ll stab me through the heart like he did my husband.”

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