Page 87 of The Exile's Curse

Allita nodded, put the jar down on the counter, and opened it before bustling back out into the bedroom. Chloe applied the salve to her scar cautiously. It was an odd shade of green but smelled pleasant enough, and the ache under the skin eased as she rubbed it in.

When she was finished, she scowled again at her reflection. What had she gotten herself into? She hadn't been allowed to talk to Lucien again yet. Once she and Lucien had announced they were willing to marry, Irina, Katiya, and Royve Ava had brought her to this room, the healer had worked on her arm some more, and then plied her with food and several cups of herbal tea that had sent her to sleep.

She'd woken when Honore arrived to check on her. Not the most comfortable conversation. Honore had delivered a gentle but clear lecture on all the ways Chloe had been foolish in sleeping with Lucien and then by getting caught with him in the cave. Not to mention forming a bond with him. She couldn't argue with the former part and had bitten her tongue about the latter. She understood Honore was duty bound, as her superior officer, to tell a junior when they had screwed things up, but the storm and what came after were not Chloe's fault, and the bond had been necessary.

Just as marrying Lucien was necessary if she wanted to survive this mission with her chance at a career as a diplomat intact. At least Honore hadn't discharged her on the spot.

After the colonel left, there'd been another round of healing and then more tea. She'd barely stirred until morning when Allita, who'd apparently been assigned with her in her new quarters, had woken her.

There was no point scowling. She'd made her choices. Now she had to make the best of them. Even if that meant spending the day with Irina and Katiya and playing the radiant bride-to-be instead of doing any actual work.

She left the bathroom to find Allita laying out clothes she didn't recognize on the bed. "Where did these come from?"

Allita turned with a smile. "My lady, Her Majesty thought you might like to wear something traditional for the day. She sent these."

A simple white gown and one of the long vests the Andalyssians wore lay on the covers. The vest was blue, its embroidery gold, similar to the colors in the gown that she'd worn to the wedding ball. Du Laq colors. Well, better that than de Montesse colors. Those would hardly be appropriate when she was about to marry Charl's best friend.

She didn't want to think about what Charl would think. He was dead. Imogene, on the other hand...well, after she stopped laughing, she might be sympathetic, but the laughter would come first. Rightly so. It was ridiculous. Chloe had survived ten years in Anglion without falling foul of any rules, but a week in Andalyssia and she was a ruined woman unless she married the man most of Lumia assumed was her mortal enemy.

Which he had been. But now...now she didn’t know what Lucien was to her. Temporary husband. Lover for a night. Those were not things that usually went along with being mortal enemies.

Not to mention he'd saved her life. And had only agreed to this marriage to save her from the consequences. Hard to believe she should still hate him after that. It took effort to hold on to her anger. And she was tired of it. Tired of nursing old wounds and wishing she could fix old mistakes. Especially when it seemed she was still adding new ones to her tally.

So yes, Imogene would laugh and then stand beside her as she divorced her second husband. One step up from widowhood, she supposed. But two marriages and no husbands to show for it before her thirty-fifth birthday felt careless. And really, this entire business had only reinforced her resolve not to try for a third.

But first, she had to marry the second.

She stroked a finger over an embroidered flower. "Of course I'll wear them. That was very kind of Her Majesty. Will you do my hair in an Andalyssian style?" If she was going through with this, she might as well look the part.Maybe it would make it easier to continue down this path if she did.

"Of course, my lady." Allita lifted a small fabric pouch from beside the dress. "This came for you, too. From Lord Castaigne."

"It did?" She took the pouch, trying to hide her surprise. She hadn't expected anything from Lucien. Maybe a note. But the pouch was too heavy for just a note. She untied the laces that held it closed and tipped it upside down. A familiar gold ring fell out into her hand along with a folded sheet of paper. She put the note aside and stared at the ring.

Lucien's signet ring. Not the one he had inherited from his father and now wore as Marq. This was a smaller one that he wore on the little finger of his right hand. A gift from his grandfather for his Ascension.She didn’t think she’d ever seen his hands without it, even though he wasn’t a man who wore much in the way of jewels. And now he was giving it to her?

"A betrothal ring, my lady?" Allita peered at it. "Is that the customary style in Illvya? It looks like very good gold," she added, as though worried Chloe might take her comment the wrong way.

"It is the custom to have a betrothal ring, yes," Chloe said, still staring down at the ring. Why had he sent her this? To keep up appearances? That would be like him. Not wanting her to have to answer questions. Though, honestly, she was far more likely to get questions about why they were marrying so quickly than why she didn't have a betrothal ring.

Charl had given her a diamond. A family ring she'd left behind when she went to Anglion. She’d taken her wedding band. It had been proof of her widowhood in those early days. Eventually she'd stopped wearing it, and no one seemed to notice. She'd never quite been able to bring herself to sell it. Charl had commissioned it himself, so it was hers free and clear. Along with the memories it carried.

It was hidden in one of her dresser drawers in her bedroom back in Lumia.

And now, for a time at least, she would wear a new ring. Make new complicated memories of it and a man. Hopefully less tragic ones.

She slipped the ring on. It fit, more or less, and she curled her fingers closed to admire it in the light. It was, as Allita had said, good gold, the band gleaming in the sunshine. The face of the signet was etched with the tower of the Castaigne family, three stars arching above it.

What would Lucien’s family say if they knew what he was about to do? Goddess. She hoped Aristides would cooperate with a quick and quiet divorce when they returned. She didn’t need more disapproving in-laws to deal with.

"It suits you," Allita declared. "But we must make haste. You are due to speak with the patrarch and Sejerin Silya in an hour, and then Lady Irina will take charge of the rest of the day."

The patrarch wasn't as intimidating as she had feared. The priest kept his questions brief and seemed satisfied when she said she was marrying Lucien of her own free will. She resisted the urge to look at Silya as she answered, afraid she wouldn't be able to resist rolling her eyes. But the patrarch took her answer at face value and didn't offer any objections to the wedding occurring the next day. Of course, that might have been the presence of the queen, Honore, and Irina who’d accompanied her. A reminder that whatever the goddess and the balance might think about things, the more earthly powers in the kingdom wanted the marriage to be done with quickly so they could all return to more pressing matters.

The patrarch and two of the svasyas performed a blessing rite, speaking seer tongue. Chloe risked a tiny thread of magic to see if she could see their magic, but despite a faint glow around the three men, she couldn't really tell what the purpose of the magic they used was. She decided to take it as goodwill and leave it at that.

After the priests stepped back from the small altar fire, Silya took a turn. Chloe kept her eyes downcast to avoid more disapproval from the seer, though she didn’t entirely let go of her magic. Silya’s part of the rite didn’t seem to take long and ended with her proclaiming, "The balance will be restored."

The words rang true. She’d forgotten about that, that she had a taste of Lucien’s power. She kept her face still, not wanting to give herself away. He’d told her not to use the power, but she hadn’t actually been trying to. So, at least, Silya believed what she was saying. Did that mean her concern was genuine? Though belief in the balance and Chloe and Lucien providing an opportunity for her to interfere with the negotiations weren't necessarily mutually exclusive.

---