Page 47 of Upon the Riven Throne

But she had not won yet.

Mireille met her steely gaze. “I have.”

“What is she on about?” Nisha said from across the room. Kin must have made a sign, because it was followed by an incredulous, “Practicing her speech? It is not a state dinner. She doesn’t—what? Fine, yes, I’m listening. Stop grabbing at me like I’m a basket of scones.”

Mireille leaned closer to the mirror. “He will escort me to the ceremony. I will announce to the entire court that we planned a ruse and our betrothal was never intended to go through.”

Maeve’s eyes lit with dark satisfaction. If Mireille would do such a thing, if she cared so little for Alder that she might humiliate him, then he would never go through with the ceremony, lest he forfeit his kingdom. “Of course it was a ruse,” the queen purred.

“In exchange, you agree to never harm me, to leave my father, my kingdom, and the people of Norcliffe alone. You will bring no harm to those I love.”

Maeve considered the words. It was asking a lot for a simple proclamation from Mireille, but the proclamation would mean Alder had lost his bargain with the queen. He must marry for love or Rivenwilde would be Maeve’s. Mireille was willing to bet she wanted the fae lands more than she wanted Norcliffe. But lately, Mireille was betting on a great deal.

Maeve’s lips curled. “It is a nice touch, announcing your ruse publicly. Adds to the disgrace. I like it.”

“Well,” Mireille said. “You know how I feel about fae who trap me in bargains.”

Maeve laughed, the sound light and genuine. “To be sure.” She lifted a hand, as if signing their contract in empty air. “Let our bargain be struck. You will make the agreed upon announcement, humiliate the prince, and I will leave your sad little kingdom and its people alone.AndI vow to not so much as touch a single hair on your pretty little head, or anyone you truly love.”

Heart thundering, Mireille could only nod. “I agree to your terms.”

“What was that?” Nisha called from the connecting room, just as Maeve flashed a final wicked grin and disappeared from the glass. “Did you just say something aboutterms?”

Mireille turned to find Nisha striding back into the main chamber, Kin at her back, fingers twined anxiously together. Mireille gave the group a baffled smile, shoving her hands behind her back where a gold bracelet now hung at one wrist, its clasp heavy against her palm. “Are those not the ceremonial words?”

Nisha’s gaze narrowed.

Mireille shrugged. “Well, it was certainly how Alder initiated our first bargain. Perhaps someone could let me know so that I won’t do it wrong.” She lifted the braceletless hand to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

Nisha did not seem convinced, but the room was empty of evil queens. Kin had fulfilled the favor Mireille had asked. All that was left, was for Mireille to pretend she was about to not get married.

CHAPTER22

Mireille clung to Alder’s arm as he escorted her down a torchlit path lined with flowering vines, moths fluttering near mounds of night-blooming honeysuckle, and blossoms trailing on a chill breeze. The sun was just beginning to set, casting everything it touched in an amber glow. A stole had been added to her dress for warmth, but she found being close to Alder’s side was of much more comfort. It did not stop the anguish that twisted in her gut, but the look he had given her when he’d come to retrieve her had certainly helped.

Alder leaned near as a beautiful archway of orange blossoms came into view. They were being married in the lane. He had not told her.

His lips brushed her ear. “I will keep you safe, this time I swear it.”

Mireille’s chest swelled with warmth. And then, suddenly, a strange, fluttery panic. “Wait.” She gripped his arm, and he stopped, turning to look at her. “I—” She could not tell him. She could say nothing she wanted to. She could only ask, “I must know. If this dress was truly my imagining, then how did it come to exist here, outside the dream, with every detail exact?”

“I remembered,” he said simply.

“Every detail.”

His brow pinched. “Of course.”

Mireille drew a deep breath, then let it out with a shaky smile. “I am ready.” She turned to face the path, arm in his.

He gave her a sidelong glance but continued on. As they reached the lane, the fae lining each side and dressed their finest turned their attention to the pair. Each held a tall taper, the flames defense against the dark.

Queen Maeve stood toward the end of the path in a place of honor as her station demanded, near a stone dais beneath the grandest orange tree of all. Delicate white blossoms draped low enough that they nearly brushed the dark hair of the fae officiant standing in wait.

Thomas stood near the front of the crowd with Kin by his side. Thomas was noticeably more anxious than Kin, which spoke volumes given that the fae woman knew a great deal more about what was to happen than him, but he gave Mireille a small nod.

Her chest squeezed. They were so very, very close to either victory or utter failure.

Soft music accompanied their walk, and as Alder and Mireille moved past the fae, their candles lifted skyward. Mireille was shocked to see her Westrende friends tucked into the crowd beside Nisha and her feral grin, and worried what bargain must have been struck to bring them there while securing both the fae kingdom’s secrets and the safety of Westrende officials. She shot Alder an anxious glance. He whispered, “They were transported to the lane and shown nothing else. It seemed wise to permit them to witness our interaction with the queen, besides that Lord Holden demanded as much on your behalf.”

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