Page 8 of Ties of Death

“Are you really going to marry us against my will?” I ask Jakob coldly.

Sigrid looks down, her mouth twisting.

“Better that then let rumors of the king keeping a mistress spread,” Jakob says practically. “Which will no doubt happen should he keep you near him without a wedding first.” There’s a long-suffering about his demeanor that tells me he has had this argument already with Daenn, and, of course, the king got his way.

I whip my head to glare at Daenn. “Better to keep me in the cells. I’ll make your life as much of a nightmare as you’ve made mine, otherwise.”

“That’s not close enough.” Daenn shows no hint of offense at my defiance. If anything, he almost seems… sad. What could a monster possibly have to feel sad about?

I sneer. “What, you need to be able to see on a daily basis how you’ve shattered me?”

Eskil growls, but Daenn just shakes his head. “You will have more freedom if we’re married.”

“How? How is being shackled to you through marriage more freedom?”

“Your magic will be directly linked to me then. The magical proximity should allow you some physical distance.” Daenn looks back to Jakob. The closure of the subject is clear. “Let’s begin.”

I have no idea what my magic has to do with this, but I’m not given a chance to ask. Jakob launches into the weddingceremony with the same practicality he’s always had. He speaks of our sacred vows to each other and our god, Lirev. Out of respect for said god, I don’t scoff, but I’m sure my expression is still mutinous. He speaks a blessing over the wedding bands, matching silver bracelets in different sizes, that sit on a table to his right.

He reaches the end of his monologue and looks expectantly at us. “If you would take the marriage bands.”

Daenn takes the smaller one meant for me; it’s not a perfect circle, but rather a spiral, like a breeze’s swirl trapped in silver. He reaches for me, but Jakob clears his throat, pointedly looking at Daenn’s gloved hand. Now that I’m not trapped against a wall, I look at them more closely. They’re dark leather, but fitted and thin, looking more like a second skin than the riding gloves common amongst the clan’s warriors.

Daenn tenses. “No.” The word is a sharp growl. “The gloves stay on.”

Jakob looks ready to protest, but Daenn’s entire demeanor has shifted from tight control to barely restrained danger. Jakob purses his lips before acquiescing. “As you command, my king. Lady Emana, if you would raise your left hand.”

I hesitate—not out of the defiance that has been coursing through me, but from the tension in the air now. It’s so thick and heavy I could cut it with my letter opener. Daenn feels deadly in this moment, and his tension has leeched into the rest of the room. Eskil and Kettil stand stiff, and Sigrid is pale. My magic spools out into the room, but I ignore it. It’s not like I can direct it to do anything useful here.

I won’t give Daenn the satisfaction of seeing my fear. I swallow it down and turn, raising my hand to chest level. Daenn is as still as a statue for a moment, his gaze softening when he looks down at our hands. Then hemoves, so very slowly, and slips the bracelet over my hand. The leather of his gloves brushes my skin, warm and soft, as he pushes my long black dress sleeve out of the way to help the bracelet lie correctly.

The bracelet glints silver against my wrist, most of it peeking out beneath my sleeve. It’s loose now, but I’ve seen the magic at previous weddings. It won’t stay that way.

I never thought I’d resent seeing one of my clan’s wedding bands on my wrist, never thought it would feel like a shackle.

Jakob clears his throat. I take the hint and reach for the other spiral band, having to lean into Daenn’s space to reach it. He smells of pine and stone, exactly like he used to. It’s a knife to my heart that such a comforting scent belongs to someone so cruel now.

I grip the wedding band and wait for Daenn to offer his hand.

He makes no move to.

I glance up, frowning. This is what he wanted; why is he—

The cold, unbridled fear on his face draws me up short.

His gaze meets mine, and his expression shutters, falling back into that cold mask—but he can’t entirely pull the fear from his eyes. That fear scares me more than anything else from him. I’ve never seen Daenn so afraid before.

My magic reaches for him, and I can almost sense the exact moment it touches him, because he inhales slowly and his shoulders relax infinitesimally. After a moment he even lifts his hand, so I push the bracelet over his fingers and into its place on his wrist. When I move to pull his sleeve out of the way, he jerks his hand away. “I’ll do it.”

And with quick efficiency, he does, tugging his sleeve and the edge of his glove out of the way until the wedding bandrests directly against his skin. The band disappears as he shifts his sleeve back into place.

Jakob speaks the final binding vows. “With these bands, you are tied to each other as the stars and moon and sun are tied to the skies. May you reflect your love, loyalty, and respect for each other until they shine brighter than the noonday sun and help you soar together on the winds of life. So may Lirev bless this bond.”

The bracelet on my wrist contracts like a living thing until it’s snug against my skin—not painful, but neither will it come off without bending it horribly out of shape. With it, a heat flashes through my whole body, searing and sharp and overwhelming my senses for a moment. Even after it’s gone, I can feel the memory of it.

No, that’s not just the memory, but a lingering sensation. It’s still searing through me. It takes a moment for me to register what it is.

Magic.

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