Page 41 of Bound and Beguiled

Ahead of us, two giant canines prowled. Fenn, a huge tawny wolf, stood shoulder to shoulder with Kynan, whose animal form was a wolfhound. Although more slender than Fenn in this shape, my Sir was easily as tall, and when he reared up on two legs he could almost look Mouse in the eye. His tattoos, inked with magic, revealed themselves in the swirling patterns of his brindle fur, giving him an arcane air enhanced by his gleaming black eyes.

Directly to either side of me walked Katarina and Efa, who’d chosen to keep her two-legged form. Her badger form was dangerous, she’d told me, but not intimidating. They were dressed head to toe in unrelieved black; ravens on their way to a funeral. Behind them strode Sid, clothed in shadow, and Mouse, who’d chosen to oil the acres of rippling green muscles exposed by his Cairn Riders vest rather than wear a shirt.

A rush of air drew my gaze upwards, and I followed the swooping path of Mared’s stunning wings through the afternoon sky. I’d expected her animal form to be something cuddly, something sensuous. A fox, perhaps, or a mink. But when she’d shimmered into being as a Great Horned Owl, it had felt exactly right. She was a deadly and beautiful creature.

The world around us wavered with a hazy glow as we moved within the Bwbachod’s veil of invisibility. The plan was to drop it when we reached the edge of the crowd for a big, dramatic entrance. I rubbed my thighs, trying to get rid of the last-minute anxiety sweat dampening my palms.

Efa took my hand in hers, placing a warm, lingering kiss on my knuckles. “You got this, love. Time to show them who you really are.”

I squeezed her fingers, blew out a breath, and raised my chin. Showtime.

The veil hiding us from view fell, punctuated by a gasp that rolled over the crowd like a tsunami. In the shocked silence that followed, the crackling of burning rosemary from the ritual fires grew, filling my ears.

I squared my shoulders.

For a long moment we stayed just like that, soaking in the astonishment of my once-community. Emyr snorted, pawing the ground, while Fenn and Kynan paced back and forth in front of us in a clear territorial warning. The rest of us were still as statues. I had to bite back a laugh as a perfectly calibrated wind blew across us, lifting our hair and clothes in cascading ripples. Dramatic, lovable idiots.

Emyr started forward, his hoofbeats like gunshots. People winced as they rang out, backing into each other, and the path before us widened. My escort moved as one, our progress slow and deliberate. Belatedly, the violinist took up the traditional entrance march. Seconds later, they tapered off with a discordant hiss—leaving only the snapping fire and swelling whispers to accompany us.

I couldn’t keep my eyes from flickering over the crowd. As expected, shock, disapproval, and even fear radiated from most of the Bound. Most, but not all. To my surprise, some of the faces were smiling. Katarina’s parents looked a little like someone had slapped them on the behind, but welcoming pleasure suffused their faces, and they waved as we passed by.

Not far from them one of my second cousins stared, open-mouthed with amazement, at something behind me. His gaze tracked upwards, and I realized it was Mouse who’d caught his attention. Radek must have felt me looking, because he met my eyes, blushed as red as his hair, and gave me a surreptitious thumbs up.

I clenched my jaw to keep from laughing and made a mental note to slip him the number to the Broken Crown. At this rate, Sid was going to find her bar overrun by Bandless rebels.

My amusement fled as I met my mother’s eyes. Standing at the front of the crowd beside Franklin’s parents, she was giving off so much rage I expected her to burst into flames at any moment. Her practiced, humble expression had frozen into an eerie rictus that sent chills prickling down my spine.

I tilted my head in a mockery of acknowledgement as Emyr came to a halt. Mouse’s broad chest severed the stare down, and I blew out a breath in relief.Getting into a fistfight with Mother isn’t on the agenda, I reminded myself as Mouse lifted me from Emyr’s back, setting me down as lightly as a feather.At least not until after I deal with Franklin.

He and his escort had entered almost completely unnoticed, thanks to our dramatics, and now stood opposite us looking utterly scandalized.

Seeing Franklin again hit me like a ton of bricks, and for a moment I faltered. He was still handsome, still the glimmering fantasy that made my friends jealous when we were teens. His pale skin looked darker against the white robe, as if kissed by the sun. Sandy blond hair was perfectly—if conservatively—styled. His chin was cleanly shaven, its strength disguising the weakness of his spirit.

Everything about him was a lie.

Then I looked into his eyes, and the avarice there was like a slap to the face. He was giving me the same look I’d seen him so often give other women. I’d spent years watching him turn that hungry gaze on everyone but me. Years of feeling less than, invisible, unwanted.

Now he finally looked at me, and it made my skin crawl.

Slowly, leisurely, Franklin’s eyes lifted to my face, only to tighten with rage at the disgust curling my lip. Hidden in the folds of his robe, the knuckles of his fists went white in warning.

My body flinched reflexively. I tried to mask my response, but the malicious sneer twisting his lips told me he knew how he affected me—and liked it.

“Please take your places,” intoned the officiating Keeper, gesturing to the length of linen cloth that did nothing to cushion the stone at their feet. It might have been wishful thinking, but it seemed to me like there was a hardness to their eyes when they looked at Franklin.

I knelt, clenching every muscle in my body to keep from shying away when Franklin positioned himself much too close. The cry of an owl overhead allowed me to breathe again, although I remained tense.I was not alone.

The Keeper began to speak, the rhythm of their words washing over me in a familiar hum. I’d heard this sermon dozens of times. I let it fade into the background as I inhaled deeply of rosemary-scented smoke, allowing myself to remember every trespass, every injustice I’d suffered at Franklin’s hands.

“You are embarrassing yourself,” the asshole himself hissed. “I don’t know what you think to prove with this stunt, but rest assured that as soon as we are bound, your game is over. I will not be humiliated by my own wife.”

I didn’t bother answering.

The Keeper’s next words came out hard. I wasn’t imagining it this time—they glared at Franklin before turning to my escort with a gracefully outstretched hand.

“Let those who would speak to the bride’s honor do so now.”

Katarina swayed forward. She had to wait for the scandalized whispers to die down before she could begin, but when she spoke her words were honey sweet and sharper than a scalpel. Somehow, without ever saying a single impolite word, she verbally eviscerated my mother, Franklin, Franklin’s parents, and the community as a whole—all the while cooing about my many fine qualities. I had to bite my cheeks to keep from laughing when she managed to fit in a compliment for her own mother—one that was in itself a biting condemnation of mine.

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