Page 48 of Upon the Riven Throne

It was not wise, but Alder had done it anyway. For her. She felt her mouth go soft and shaky.

“They are safe,” he vowed. “No matter what.”

She nodded, swallowing back what he evidently assumed was fear. He reached across his chest, squeezing Mireille’s hand where it rested on his arm, then turned to face her before the dais. He took both of her hands in his. She could feel his magic, ancient and powerful, and truly could not believe what she was about to do.

As the officiant cleared his throat to speak, Alder tugged her a fraction closer, as if he could tell she might be about to do something rash—or, possibly, to bolt.

Voice low, she said, “You have asked me to trust you with much. I need you to trust me now, even more. At least for the next few minutes.” She squeezed his hands then pulled free, and something that might have been fear flashed in his expression. Or, perhaps, he had been certain she would betray him all along.

Mireille stepped forward to address the crowd, trembling with nerves. The gathered fae stirred at the break in ritual, some appearing only intrigued while others seemed ready to act. She could feel the queen’s magic, biting at her as if in anticipation, the bracelet’s clasp hot on her wrist.

So much rode on this one thing. It had to work. She swallowed hard, curling the fingers of that hand into a fist.

“Regretfully, I must inform you all that this engagement has been a ruse.” Gasps and excited murmurs broke out immediately, forcing Mireille to raise her voice. Evidence that at least part of those in attendance hadn’t believed the ceremony would play through had her prickling in cold sweat. Pressing down the thought, she announced, “You have all been misled, and for that, I am sorry only that it may hurt those I truly love. The prince and I never intended to complete the ceremony.”

Maeve grinned triumphantly from her spot beside the dais, as if the chaos of the crowd gave her strength, then the sharp sting of magic clawed up Mireille’s body and down to her wrist.

The clasp snapped. The bracelet fell to the ground.

Mireille had done as the queen’s terms had asked. The bargain had been sealed, as easily as that. Norcliffe and her father were safe, but only from direct attacks. And Mireille knew how those terms could be subverted, which meant they were not truly safe unless… Well, all that was left was to make Alder choose.

She turned to him, and the crowd hushed. His gaze lifted from the chain at her feet. There was something a bit feral in his expression, his posture seeming to want to act but unsure exactly what to do. He would not surrender, even when he believed all was lost.

Neither would she.

She stepped closer. “It was a ruse, a bargain, and you are the most brooding, confusing, and utterly vexing man I have ever known. All of those things are true.”

The queen was gleeful, her magic dancing at Mireille’s back, ready to devour all of Rivenwilde once the last sand dropped on her deal with Alder. Mireille did not spare her a glance. In fact, she was afraid her expression might give her away.

“Despite all of it, the danger, and the misery, and certainty that every day in this beautiful palace was wasted on me… for, you see, I understood that everything that mattered would soon be gone.” She swallowed. “Despite all that, I fell in love.”

Alder’s jaw went slack. He looked for a moment as if unsure he’d heard her right, and then, all at once, like he had never quite seen her before. It pleased some deep part of Mireille that she had surprised him so thoroughly. And also, not a small amount, that he did not seem disappointed by her confession. The magic bit at her harder, painful fingers that wanted to lash at her.

She took another step toward him, her voice dropping. “I love you enough to break your curse, but only if at least some small part of you could love me in return.”

He was silent for so long that Mireille worried she had judged the situation disastrously wrong. Perhaps his care and attention over her was truly only his vow, or that he merely needed her to draw the queen to the ceremony for his plans. Perhaps she would be the one to stand humiliated.

Perhaps she had cost them their chance at the queen.

She said weakly, “The curse surely does not require that you fall madly, head over heels. Even just a little bit, a small amount. If you loved me at all, it could work. We could be free of your bargain with the queen, before the last sands fall.” Desperate, she pleaded, “I know that you need a princess of Westrende to break the Rive. I am sorry that I have kept?—”

The bite to Mireille’s skin went sharp, a rumble of power passed through the dais, and before she could get the words out, the queen laughed, loud and squawking, like carrion on a carcass, ready to claim her prey. It could be no accident the confession had been stopped. It was the single advantage Mireille had.

A pillar dropped to the earth. The queen stepped forward. “He will never marry you, fool. He would lose everything. Nothing matters more to the prince than this land. After all, it is all that he is.” Maeve’s voice dipped, and another pillar fell, crumbling before it even touched the ground. “He couldneverlove you.”

Mireille had lost her chance. The queen would act, and Alder would attack, and they would no longer be fighting bargains. They would be fighting the sands of time. She opened her mouth to shout the truth but before a word escaped, Maeve lifted her skirts to move, her magic rising through the space.

It was over.

Alder dropped to his knees.

“Mireille,” he said, grasping both her hands in his. “I do. I do love you. Like a fool, for all of it—my kingdom, my title—I would give it up, if you would be my wife.”

Behind them, Nisha let out a loud whistle, and at least one other fae in the crowd cheered. With the queen in attendance, it was an act of bravery, but very few understood what was truly at stake. It was not if Alder could find a true princess of Westrende on such short notice, if that was what he thought. He had assumed they had lost. And he was taking her as his bride on their way down.

He loved her. Genuinely. And they were nearly out of time to break the curse.

The queen surged forward, her fingers seeming too long for her hands. There was a darkness about her edges, and heat rolled off her, and though her voice turned cruel and hard, it somehow felt persuasive. “Adorable, truly. But, prince, she has betrayed you. She’s all but admitted she’s been in league with me this whole time.” She held forward a hand and the chain lifted from the dais to settle in her palm. “We had a bargain, she and I. And look at you, down on your knees.She vowed to betray you.”

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