Page 54 of House of Gilded Nightmares

“The ceremony starts in an hour,” she says briskly. “Let’s get you presentable.”

I get up and she turns, the expectation for me to follow clear. She leads me over to a large copper clawfoot tub in the corner of the room. A clap of her hands summons a group of women into the room, each carrying a bucket of steaming water which they pour into the tub. In the brief few moments the door is open, I catch sight of Zyren out in the hall. An arrow of pain moves toward my heart, but then the wave of emotion subsides as it hits the barrier I’ve erected there. It doesn’t matter anymore. My fate is certain. It is done.

The flurry of women strip off my clothes, help me into the tub of hot water, and scrub me thoroughly. Every bit of dirt from my travels, both on my skin and in my hair, is washed clean. It seems fitting, cleansing that brief moment in my life where I was free, vanishing all traces of its existence. I can almost feel, as they wash me, Zyren’s handprints being lifted away, and the last lingering touch of his kisses all over my body. All gone from me, rinsed away, forever more.

I rise from the tub, skin gleaming, and am assaulted by several women with towels, drying me vigorously. One even runs her hands through my hair, drying it with flares of magic. It still surprises me, the subtle uses of it here, when it was so sparsely used in Eldare. I wonder, since Avonia told me what my mother did, if Zyren was right about the High Priest and how he stole the magic. But in my heart, I know it’s still true, even if he’s not the one who took me from Valaron. He must still be stopped, and once I prevent the nightmares from escaping, I’ll find a way back to Eldare to save Lilette and the others. I hold onto that small comfort as the women fuss over me.

One of the servants approaches with a dark gray silken thing draped over her arm. She gestures for me to lift my arms and slides the dress over my head. It falls to my ankles, smooth and form-fitting. I can’t help but notice it’s the same shade of pewter as Zyren’s eyes, and I quickly shove the thought away. Several other women turn their attention to my hair, pinning it atop my head with jeweled clips, gold with blue gems the same shade as the court insignia.

“That will do,” says the woman in charge with a dissatisfied shrug.

“I’m so happy it pleases you,” I say in a blade-edged tone.

It’s the first thing I’ve said since the women entered my room, and for a moment, everyone goes still. The head woman forces a tight-jawed smile onto her face and inclines her head ever so slightly.

“Of course, Highness.”

I stride for the door, and one of the women rushes ahead to open it. The rest fall in line behind me. If I am forced to be queen, then I will be queen. I’m not about to let someone shove me around. I didn’t let the Vor Kyran do it back at the Amethyst Palace, and I’m not going to start now.

When the servant opens the door, I come face to face with Zyren. His face is a storm of emotion, quite the opposite of my frigid exterior. A frenetic energy surrounds him, and tiny wisps of shadow spin off into the air. His eyes lock onto mine.

“You are ready?” The weight of mountains lies behind his question.

I nod sharply. “Yes.”

His face wipes clean of emotion, and he falls in step beside me as I stride down the hall for the stairwell. Several of the women move ahead, leading the way. I expect us to travel to the throne room, but they descend the stairs, all the way to the ground floor and out into the courtyard beyond. It seems I am to make my marriage vows before the entire city.

The courtyard has been transformed overnight. Cascades of purplish-black flowers have been hung along the walls and arch over the entrance to the courtyard, and two huge urns of them stand on either side of the doors to the palace. Strings of white lights crisscross the space. At first, I think they’re lit by magic, but when I look at one directly overhead, I see a tiny pixie trapped within the glass globe. Deep blue house banners hang along the stone walls every few feet.

Beyond the courtyard, people are already crowded against the wrought iron gates that hang between the crescent moons, waiting to come inside. The citizens of Selaye are everything the fae are fabled to be. Tall, with glowing skin and long hair and eyes in unnatural shades of color. Ethereal and otherworldly. I never looked like anyone in Eldare because I wasn’t one of them. Here, in Selaye, I am among my kin.

A stir arises from the crowd when they see me, people pointing and calling my name. I am more than their queen. I am their savior. The black orb that hangs in the dusky pink sky above, visible now even in daylight, reminds us all of that simple fact. My ladies-in-waiting usher me into the corner of the courtyard, where a tall, thin man wearing long black robes stands. Deep red hair falls down his back, and an amulet with a huge green stone is strung from his neck. Magic pulses in the air around him as we approach. The stiffening of Zyren’s posture tells me this man is not someone he cares for.

“Sarielle,” the robed man says. His eyes skim me up and down, his gaze penetrating. “The last of House Otreyas. You have arrived, it seems, just in time to save Valaron from certain destruction.” He bows his head slightly. “I am Xinius, the royal sorcerer of the Court of Nightmares.”

I incline my head in greeting.

“I will be performing the ritual today,” Xinius continues. “It serves as both marriage rites and to satisfy the spell that was wrought all those centuries ago to protect Valaron. But first, I must examine you to confirm the purity of your blood.”

My chest tightens. “Examine me?”

“With magic only.” He offers a thin smile that sends a tickle of intense unease up my spine. “Come closer.” He gestures to me with spidery fingers.

I flick my gaze over to Zyren who is staring at Xinius with murderous intensity, as if at any moment he might snap the man’s neck. But when he catches my gaze, he gives a slow nod of acquiescence. Feeling as if I’m offering my throat to a dragon, I take two steps forward until I’m standing directly in front of the sorcerer.

Xinius locks gazes with me. His eyes are pale, pale green, so light as to appear nearly solid white, with no pupils at all. It’s incredibly unnerving. I try to calm the racing of my heart, which senses the predator within this man, the magic that can snap me like a twig. When Xinius places the palm of his hand across my forehead, fingers pressing down into my hairline, I can’t help but flinch. His skin is cold and papery against mine.

And then, the magic I’d felt crouched within him crashes into me.

I go rigid as it lances through me with the hot crackle of a bolt of lightning. It feels as if that magic is trying to enter every inch of me, searching for something, ripping me apart from the inside out. My limbs begin to shake from the pressure of it, and my eyelids flutter as my eyes roll back in my head. The blood in my veins seems to simmer as if being summoned forth. I grit my teeth against the pain and the invasion, my jaw locking.

“That’s enough,” Zyren growls, stepping forward. The roil of his shadows press against the white-hot magic pouring off Xinius.

A final surge of power from the sorcerer nearly takes my breath away, and then his hand falls from my forehead and he steps back. Zyren grabs my elbow to steady me as I sway in place. Slowly, Xinius turns his gaze from me to my guardian.

“Ahh,” he says, a knowing smile on his face. “I see.”

“See what?” Zyren asks, his tone laced with warning.

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