Page 25 of The Manticore's Human Queen
As she slips away into the darkness, I feel a surge of anticipation that has nothing to do with escape and everything to do with witnessing her transformation complete itself.
Tomorrow night, the world will see what I already know: Annelise is no one’s captive anymore.
28
ANNELISE
The morning of my wedding eve dawns grey and cold, matching the suffocating weight that settles over the estate. Servants scurry through the corridors like ants, their arms full of flowers and silks, their voices hushed with the reverence reserved for sacred rituals. But nothing is sacred about what will happen tomorrow—only a mockery dressed in white lace and golden chains.
“My Lady, you must hold still,” the seamstress mutters around a mouthful of pins as she makes final adjustments to my wedding gown.
I stand motionless on the pedestal, a mannequin draped in ivory silk that costs more than most see in a lifetime. The dress is beautiful in its way—layers of gossamer fabric that catch the light, tiny pearls sewn into intricate patterns across the bodice. A masterpiece designed to showcase Lord Renlir’s wealth and taste. All I can think about is how easily it will tear when the time comes to run.
“Exquisite,” Lord Renlir declares from his chair by the window. His silver eyes rake over me with the same expressionhe might use to appraise a new hunting hound. “My son has chosen well.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” I say, the words slipping out automatically, honey-sweet and empty as air.
“The guests will be most impressed.” He rises and approaches, circling me slowly. “Lady Morvaine from the eastern estates, Lord Valeth and his sons from the south. All the finest houses will be here to witness Zarren’s triumph.”
Triumph. As if marrying a terrified human girl is some great conquest worthy of celebration.
“I am honored by their presence,” I lie smoothly.
“Indeed you should be.” His cold fingers adjust a fold of silk at my shoulder. “Few humans are granted such privilege. You are a symbol, child. A testament to our house’s power and generosity.”
The seamstress finishes her work and steps back with a satisfied nod. “Perfect, my Lord. She’ll be the most beautiful bride in the realm.”
Beautiful. Always beautiful. Never clever, never brave, never strong. Just beautiful, like a flower bred for decoration and nothing else.
“You may go,” Lord Renlir dismisses the seamstress with a wave. When we’re alone, his mask of benevolence slips slightly. “Tomorrow will be a day of great celebration. I trust you understand what is expected of you?”
“Of course, my Lord.”
“Smile. Look radiant. Play the part of the blushing bride.” His voice drops to a whisper. “And remember—any… difficulties… will be dealt with swiftly and permanently.”
I meet his gaze with perfect, practiced innocence. “I live only to bring honor to your house.”
He studies my face for a long moment, searching for cracks in my façade. Finding none, he nods curtly. “See that you do.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of preparations. I smile at the florists arranging elaborate displays. I nod appreciatively at the cooks describing tomorrow’s feast. I listen with feigned interest as the musicians rehearse the processional that will march me to my doom. All the while, the stolen key burns against my skin where I’ve hidden it beneath my bodice—a small piece of metal that represents everything: freedom, rebellion, love, hope.
When night falls, I slip away from my chambers and make my way to the ballroom. The hall is transformed for tomorrow’s ceremony. Garlands of white roses drape the walls, and hundreds of candles wait to be lit. At the far end, a marriage altar draped in cloth of gold gleams like a funeral pyre. In the center of it all, Tarek’s cage sits like a grotesque centerpiece.
He waits for me, pacing the confines of his prison with the restless energy of a predator. When he sees me approaching, his dark eyes lock onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
“How are you holding up?” he asks as I kneel beside the bars.
“One more day,” I whisper, pressing close to the golden bars. “Just one more day of this performance.”
“And then?”
“And then we burn it all down.”
Something fierce and proud flashes in his eyes. “You look different tonight.”
“Do I?”
“Dangerous.” His voice is a low rumble that makes heat pool in my belly. “Like a blade hidden in silk.”
