Page 47 of Jailer to the Death God
“Exactly.”
“We’ll be traveling together,” she says. “Riding in the same carriage. That should be close enough for you.”
“And what about when you marry one of the fawning mortals in that ballroom? The lord I took you from—he seems like the kind to kill you in bed and take the crown. I can’t trust you with someone like that.”
“I told you I’m not marrying him.” Her breath puffs, hot and angry, in the cold air.
“I’m not sure I can trust you with any of them. One or more could be plotting your demise.”
“Unlikely.”
“I won’t take that chance.”
She whirls, looking up at me with those blue-gray eyes, the pale fire of her anger stealing my words.
“Marry me yourself, then,” she hisses.
“What?”
“You heard me. A marriage. We’re already bound by one contract—why not add another? The Council won’t be happy about it, and neither will I, but you’re very convincing—you can get them to approve it somehow. That way you’ll be near me all the time, and no one will question it. You can protect me, and then, at the end of the year, when you return to your realm, I’ll be free of you, able to marry again. And it will be my choice next time.”
It’s a good idea. A compact, convenient solution, for both of us. I struggle to refute it, but I can’t.
“Very well,” I tell her. “We’ll go back to the party. You announce your choice, and I’ll help you convince them.”
“They won’t like it.”
“We seem destined to be unpopular, you and I.” I give her a grim smile.
“Fucking unfair, I say. We’re so charming.” Her mouth trembles. At first I think she’s going to cry, but then she smiles—a strained, hysterical little smile, but it’s there.
“The deal is struck, then?” she says, extending her hand.
I grip hers. “The deal is struck.”
21
I can’t believe what I just suggested.
I can’t believe he agreed.
It makes sense, and it’s also an absolutely terrible idea.
I am going to marry the god of death.
Arawn transitions back to his human aspect and I brush snow and leaves off my clothing as we hurry toward the palace. My bodyguards are outside, peering down the garden paths. Relief sweeps over their faces when they see me coming.
“Your Majesty.” One of them greets me, his tone tinged with rebuke.
I give him a vaguely apologetic nod. I make my guards’ job difficult sometimes. But there are moments when a girl needs to be alone.
My re-entrance into the ballroom brings with it a blast of freezing air that tosses my hair and turns every face toward me.
I could ease back into the dancing, take the time to chat with more of the men gathered here—but I see no point wasting their time and mine.
My guards close the doors behind me, while Arawn moves to my side. He keeps step as I walk to the center of the room.
If I announce my choice publicly here, as Arawn suggested, the Council will have little opportunity to protest. Arawn and I are leaving tomorrow anyway. I’ll give orders for my wedding preparations tonight, and when Arawn and I return, we’ll make the marriage official.
