If Rora’s eyes had been closed, she might have believed that a firestorm had struck indoors and that embers were scorching along every surface of her skin, burning and burning and burning until she turned to ash. Cassius’s hold loosened, and Rora’s body began to slide down his toward the floor.
His eyes were not black as she thought before, but a deep blue. Like the ocean in the midst of a storm. Or how she envisioned the ocean to be, since she had only ever read about it. Her favorite book was about an explorer who sailed the sea in search of a safer land; she had read it so many times that the spine was broken and the pages soft. She would like to know how it felt to stand and feel the crash of waves against her knees. Maybe Cassius would take her someday.
She felt the future rolling out in front of her, like the wind moving through the wheat fields. Too fast. Everything was too fast. But he looked at her mouth, and she looked at his. A spark burned up her spine, and for the first time in her life she could imagine exactly what it was like to control skyfire.
To be powerful.
Just when excitement overtook the fear, and she started to want things to be too fast, his hands slid away and he stepped back. Taven and Merrin had been maintaining a discreet distance until Cassius had lifted her, and now they waited only a few steps below them.
She was certain her guards could see the red flooding her cheeks, that they all could see, even through the layers of powder. In her mother’s efforts to seclude her and protect her secret, Queen Aphra had effectively cut Rora off from almost all personal contact. She’d traded friendship for solitude, social interaction for books. At her mother’s insistence, at her queen’s demand, Rora alienated everyone she knew to keep a secret that weighed on her more than this gown and headdress ever would. Even the maids who assisted her rotated regularly to prevent anyone from getting close enough to learn the truth.
Rora had certainly never been pressed against a man as she had been in Cassius’s arms. She was terrified that he would be able to see her nerves, that this would be one more area where she would be found lacking. But he didn’t laugh or tease her. Instead, Cassius knelt at her feet. Her heart skittered up into her throat as he carefully straightened and smoothed the mass of black fabric at the bottom of her dress. When he looked up, her thoughts tangled over their imagined wedding night. About how she would have to get used to him being even closer and more intimate than this.
Her thoughts spun out of control, but below her Cassius was unhurried and unembarrassed. He offered her the softest smile, softer than she would have thought him capable. Maybe her mother was right. Cassius had his rough edges, but perhaps there was happiness to be found with him.
“There,” he said, straightening in front of her again. He touched the curve of her chin, tipping it up slightly. His hand left her chin for the smooth crystal of a skyfire bolt on her necklace. His finger ran along the edge, and though it didn’t touch her skin, it was close. Maybe the crystal was crooked and needed straightening too. Or maybe it wasn’t. She only knew that she wanted him to do it again. He gave her a cheeky wink and said, “Your mother will never know a thing.”
Before she could make sense of her flurry of emotions, a door beyond them opened. A servant asked if they were ready, and Rora nodded shakily. Moments later cheering could be heard within the great hall beyond. Cassius clasped her hand and pulled her forward.
When they stepped through the doorway, Rora’s heart caught in her throat. Hundreds upon hundreds of people were crowded into the room to celebrate her betrothal to Cassius, smiling faces as far as she could see. The applause echoed around the room, filling her ears until she could not even hear herself think. Her favorite thing in the entire palace was the chandelier her great-grandfather had constructed by trapping the magic of skyfire in an elaborate glass structure, and she fixed her eyes on it. Tonight it shone brilliantly—lightning frozen behind glass as if the goddess herself had plucked it from the sky.
A squeeze of her hand pulled her attention to the side, to Cassius’s too handsome face. He smiled at her, the widest one yet, and she found herself smiling back. Something trembled inside her, like the plucked string of an instrument, and it seemed to grow, thrumming through her bloodstream until her whole body buzzed with an unfamiliar sensation.
It had been a long time since Aurora had truly felt like a princess. She made few public appearances, another attempt to hold her secret as long as possible. Occasionally, she would join her mother on carriage rides through the city, but she only ever waved through the windows. She was better off without the attention. She enjoyed her time alone, reading or riding her horse, Honey, or studying. She did not want to wear fancy dresses or attend parties or experience the frivolity of court life.
At least, that was what she always told herself. Now she felt as if she had stepped into the pages of one of her books or strode out of the shadows of her own life for the first time.
The applause died down, and Cassius led her to the center of the room for their first dance. He pulled her close, his long, muscled arms wrapping her up like a butterfly in a cocoon. He smelled of leather and salt and something distinctly male. She fought the urge to lay her head upon his chest as the music began and they started to move.
She had expected to spend the whole night on edge, protecting her secret and her mother’s plan to keep the throne in the Pavan family while also guaranteeing a ruler who could protect the kingdom. But between one twirl and the next, all those worries fled and thoughts of Cassius, of their potential future together filled the gaps.
* * *
Aurora’s flushed skin was beginning to show through the powder in places—the hollow of her throat, the crest of her cheek, the curve of her lip. Cassius fought the urge to finish the job, to rub it all away so he could see her truly. “You’re different than I expected,” he murmured when the dance brought their bodies close.
Something had changed in the way she looked at him, softened, as if her initial distrust had all but melted away. A part of him wanted to shake her, to tell her she was being a fool for trusting anyone, let alone a man like him. But a greater part of him craved that look, yearned for her eyes on him the way a flower strained for the sun. But if he were a flower, he would no doubt be poison. He drew her closer anyway. Cassius felt the irrational urge to mark her, claim her as his; and if the only way to do that was to let some of his poison rub off on her, then so be it.
“Different in a good way?” Confusion and hope and worry warred on her face. For a girl that had tried before to be ice-cold, she was a riot of barely checked emotions now.
He let the hand on the middle of her back stray to her side, dragging his fingers along the stays of her corset again. “Very good.”
“You are not what I assumed either.” She offered him that sweet smile.
If she knew what that smile did to him, she would be less generous with it.
Emotion was not something with which he had much experience. His parents’ marriage was one of strategy, and that same attitude extended to their parenting. As a boy, he had not known that bloodthirsty competition between siblings was not the way of every family. But he knew now; he felt the yoke of his father’s control constantly tightening around his neck, and it was only recently that he had cared enough to fight it. Or perhaps, he had stopped caring altogether. Consequences meant little to him now.
So he did not react when he noticed his father glaring, eyes flicking down to the hand Cassius still rubbed scandalously along Aurora’s side. He’d come here at his father’s bidding, but the king would not be pulling Cassius’s strings for much longer. He tucked the princess closer, until he could feel the hot puffs of her breath in the hollow of his throat. He slid his hand dangerously low on her back. This was one thing his father would not control. Aurora was his way out, his fresh start. And once they were married, the king would realize that his control over Cassius had died when they left Locke.
The first song ended, and the floor grew crowded with more couples. He led the princess over to where both their families gathered on a dais. Queen Aphra sat upon an elaborate throne made from the same sandstone as the palace, and it glittered gold in the light. A smaller version that was likely Aurora’s remained empty, and several ornate chairs had been added to the dais for his family.
Despite the smaller chair, his father sat as if this room and the people in it were his to command. His mother surveyed the room with a scrunched nose as if already planning how she would change the palace around her. He led Aurora to her vacant throne. Before she could take her seat, he pulled her to a stop and lifted her hand to his mouth, giving the back a slow, grazing kiss. He watched the delicate column of her throat move as she swallowed. When she lowered herself into the chair, he took up sentry position beside her.
After a moment, their parents returned to their previous conversation, and he heard his father questioning Queen Aphra about Pavan’s holdings. They discussed the various crops that grew in the fields surrounding the city, the river that provided water from the north, as well as borders and resources and interaction with several of the nearest Stormling strongholds.
Cassius had spent his life hemmed in by sea and jungle. Few braved the perils of any of the unclaimed wildlands territory; far fewer braved the wilds that led to Locke. Conquest was nearly unheard of in the modern era of Caelira. The challenges of protecting the land were too consuming to dream of conquering more. But even so, Locke’s lethal location provided a great deal of protection and privacy, and most important, it allowed them to control the flow of information in and out of the city. The power of the Locke family was renowned across the continent because they made it so. Pavan was the centermost city of the continent, and thus had potential allies (and threats) on all sides. It would be … an adjustment.
The king’s corresponding stories about Locke were exaggerated and embellished as always. Cassius tuned out as Queen Aphra inquired after his uncle, who was protecting Locke in their absence. He didn’t care to listen to fabricated stories about a brotherly relationship that was just as poisonous as the one he had with his own brother. Bending close to Aurora’s ear, Cassius murmured, “Take everything the king says with a grain of salt.” He touched the pointed tip of the skyfire crystal that perched upon her shoulder. It was sharper than he had expected. “We’re all putting on shows today.”
“And you?” she asked. “Should I disbelieve everything you say as well?”
He didn’t back off; instead he traced the crystal down to the curve of her shoulder. As he considered how to answer, he dragged his fingers toward the nape of her neck. Her head dipped forward slightly, and he curved his palm over the back of her neck. “When you’re raised to be king, you’re taught to choose your words carefully, to utilize them with as much precision as a sword in a fight. But I—”
“You’re the second son.”
He frowned, and his hand tightened on her nape for just a moment before he realized his error and released her. “Yes, I am. And I am not like my father.” He knew there was too much aggression in his tone, and when she cast her eyes up, he nearly lost all his patience for this game. He wanted this girl. More than that … he required her. And he was not always the most patient hunter. He was preparing to ask her for another dance when his brother stepped into view.
“A princess as lovely as you should spend the entire night upon the dance floor. Allow me to correct my little brother’s error.”
Casimir held out a hand in offering, and Cassius’s fingers itched for the blade he usually wore at his hip.
“Mir,” he grumbled in warning. But that only made his brother push more. They were alike in that. When Aurora laid her hand in Mir’s, he pressed a kiss to her palm. A long kiss. Fire licked up Cassius’s spine, and nearly a dozen Stormhearts burned hot and cold and everything between as they filled with his energy. His brother was very, very lucky that the Stormhearts could only influence storms, not create them. He wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from raining down fire and floods, brother of his blood or not.
Cassius snapped, “That’s enough, Casimir.”
“Come now, Brother. Surely, you would not deprive me of the chance to get to know my future sister.”
Cassius bared his teeth in grim smile. “Get to know her from a distance.” There was no hiding the threat in his words.
Mir winked at the princess and said, “He never has been good at sharing.”
“And you never have been good at keeping your hands where they belong.”
Cassius was nearly vibrating with fury now, but his brother was still as calm as could be, his thumb lazily stroking Rora’s palm as he kept hold of her hand. “No. No, I have not.”
Cassius gripped Aurora’s shoulders and pulled her back against his chest. The headdress blocked his view for a moment before he leaned around and fixed his brother with a glare.
“Careful, Cassius.” His brother smiled. “You’ll frighten her away before she’s truly yours.”
“Boys.” A tinkling, fake laugh drifted over from where their mother sat. “At least pretend to be civilized.” The dais was set apart enough that no one could have heard their words, but his mother’s warning cleared Cassius’s head enough to remember that people were watching.
“A little healthy competition never did any harm,” his father replied, looking at Casimir with approval. Once upon a time that might have been a painful blow to Cassius, to see his brother favored over him, but take enough of those hits, and eventually you don’t even feel them.
His mother turned to the Pavanian queen and said, “You are so lucky you have no sons. They are beasts on their best days.”
Queen Aphra’s smile faltered only for a moment, but it was long enough. Unlike in Locke, where secrets were easy to bury, there was not a kingdom on the continent that had not heard of the death of Pavan’s heir. His mother looked out at the dance floor, her lips tipped up in mimicry of pleasantness. Everything about his mother’s looks should have lent her warmth—her honey skin, dark brown hair, and eyes that shone somewhere between. But there was no disguising the cold in her.
Enough. He cared not for silly dances and frivolous parties, but he would keep Aurora on the floor until morning if it kept her in his arms and his family at a distance. He took her hand and began pulling her away without explanation. To his brother he called back, “You’ll have to beg a dance another time. Perhaps after our wedding. Tonight is ours.”
* * *
Aurora’s cheeks hurt from smiling, and her face was hot from what felt like one unending blush. She held Cassius’s elbow, leaning in to him as she tottered like she had drunk her weight in wine. She hadn’t had a single drop, but she felt slightly drunk all the same. He held both her hands atop his forearm, keeping her steady every time she inevitably tripped over her dress.
Yesterday she had been certain that life as she knew it was coming to an end, with her future resting on a blade’s edge as thin as the half-truths they’d told for years. But now … all the world looked different through hope’s glow.
She peeked behind Cassius’s shoulder at the brooding brother who trailed them. He was playing chaperone, king’s orders, as Cassius walked her back to her rooms.
Casimir was nearly as tall as his brother, but his body was leaner, his face a little softer, more pampered, perhaps. His hair was longer with a slight curl to the ends. If she did not already know which was which, she would have assumed that Cassius was the famed elder brother known as Prince Cas. Taller and broader—she assumed him the more powerful, but perhaps that misconception was part of what made Casimir all the more dangerous. He was quicker to smile and joke, and would no doubt make a charismatic ruler, but there was a hint of cunning to him. As if every word was a strategic move on a game board that she could not see.
The three of them made their way down the main stairs onto the ground floor. “Prince Casimir,” she called back, “my mother said that you were also recently engaged to be married.”
Casimir’s eyes flicked to his brother’s back before he answered, “I’m afraid your mother’s information is outdated. That betrothal was dissolved.”
She wasn’t sure whether to offer condolences or ask for more information or remain silent. But she’d never been one to keep her mouth in check for long. Still soaring from her unexpectedly wonderful night, her curiosity got the better of her.
“How does one go about dissolving betrothals?”
She was smiling widely as they entered the north residential wing, and a few moments passed before she noticed the brothers had gone rigid. Cassius’s expression was dark and hard, like that of the intimidating man he’d been at first sight, and it made the air feel thick in Rora’s throat.
“There’s only one way a betrothal sealed by a royal contract can be broken,” Casimir answered.
It wasn’t the eldest brother who continued, but Cassius. “She died, Aurora.”
She wanted to rip one of the skyfire crystals off her necklace and shove it down her throat.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but she knew the words meant little. They couldn’t change anything, couldn’t unravel time. But he thanked her anyway, and dropped back as they approached the ornate archway that separated the royal chambers from the rest of the wing. Cassius touched the gold-painted, carved wooden frame, but didn’t pass under it. Rora whispered, “I’m sorry I brought up the engagement. I didn’t know. I never would have—”
Cassius cut her off, grasping her chin between his fingers. She went silent and very, very still. His gaze pinned her in place, making her forget her panic.
“You did not know. Besides, we Lockes don’t dwell on the past. We move forward. Always forward.”
“Does that come from your family creed?”
His brows lifted. “How did you know that?”
“Eyes always to the horizon. Is that right?”
The fingers on her chin loosened, and he dragged his thumb along the line of her jaw.
“Smart little bird.”
Her nose crinkled. “I am not even remotely birdlike.”
Cassius reached up and plucked one of many feathers from her headdress, trailing it over her cheek. She opened her mouth, and then closed it, scowling up at him. He laughed, the sound rumbling in his throat. It was the most carefree she had seen him yet.
“The royal chambers are through here,” she said, gesturing beyond the archway.
He looked down and cleared his throat. “It’s probably best if I say good night here.”
His hesitant expression seemed out of place on his sharp features. For the first time, she wondered if he too had been dreading their union, if even now he only charmed her out of a sense of duty. Guilt singed through her like skyfire. What would he say when he learned the truth? When he discovered all her lies?
“Cassius, I know an arranged marriage likely wasn’t something you envisioned for yourself. It’s not what I saw for my future either. But—” She stopped, nerves bleeding back in for the first time in hours. “I think we could—You seem like—”
“Stop worrying, Aurora.”
The words were punctuated by his hands cupping her jaw, fingers splaying down her neck. She did the opposite of what he said. She worried about the powder on her face that would smudge off on his hands. She worried about his closeness and the state of her breath. She worried he would kiss her and that she would be exceptionally bad at it.
“A treaty has nothing to do with what’s between us. I fight for what’s mine, Princess. Whether it’s against storms or my brother or your stubbornness—I fight to win.”
She eased out of his grasp, bumping into the archway behind her. For a moment, he had held her a little too tightly, the growl in his words a little too fierce. She was not sure how she felt about being his, of belonging to him. As a child, she had belonged to her parents, then as new heir, she had belonged to the kingdom. When her magic never manifested, her life belonged to her secrets. She had hoped that when all was said and done, she could finally belong to herself.
He cursed beneath his breath, and when he approached her again, his words and his face had grown softer. “By now I’m sure you’ve noticed that my family is … intense. The same is true for our home. We’re battered on both sides—storms from the land and the sea. Our proximity to the latter makes our Slumber season so short it’s barely worth calling it a season. When you live in a place so ruthless, you learn to protect the things that matter. To be ruthless in return. I know the shortness of this life, and when I make a decision, I do not look back. My decision was made the moment I laid eyes on you.”
He slid his finger down one of the skyfire crystals on her necklace like he’d done after he carried her up the stairs. She sucked in a breath, and the rise of her chest caused his finger to brush her collarbone. Then he did it again. Not an accident this time. She was breathing fast, clutching at the archway behind her.
His thumb rubbed over her mouth, smearing away the last of the white on her lips. Her eyes fell to his mouth, once quickly, then again for good. He sighed, warm breath drifting over her skin. “This is where I step away and let you go to bed. Before I’m tempted to walk you directly to your door.”
“And that would be a problem because?”
“I’m a thrill seeker. It’s why I have these.” He took her hand and lifted it over his shoulder, until together their hands surrounded the snow Stormheart at the top of his spine. The movement put their bodies even closer, and an icy draft stole over them. She should have jerked away. But instead she arched into him, seeking his warmth. His gaze appeared black again. “If I walk you to your room, if I know exactly where to find you in the middle of the night when the palace is quiet and I can’t sleep … I might be tempted to lure you from your bed for a little adventure. And then we’d both be risking our parents’ anger.”
If he was trying to deter her, he was using the wrong methods. She spent every moment of every day yearning for adventure, and she would gladly take it from his hands.
“What makes you think I’d be so easy to lure from my bed?” she teased.
For the barest moment his body pressed forward against hers—muscles pulled taut, hard as stone. She melted into him, pushing back until their bodies aligned from chest to hip. Then he ripped himself away, leaving her arm hanging in the air and several steps between them.
“I like a challenge, Aurora. Do not offer yourself up as one unless you are prepared for the consequences.”
He nodded his head toward the archway, his muscles tight with tension, and said, “Good night, Princess. Until tomorrow.”
Rora’s body followed his suggestion, slipping through the archway into a wider hallway and out of sight, but her mind was still stuck on the way it felt to be pressed against him. Rora had read of perfect kisses, prompted by perfect words and perfect settings, and she had a feeling she’d just missed a chance at having the real-life version. She moved in a daze, one foot in front of the other, but every step got a little harder, as if a rope around her middle tried to pull her back through that archway to claim that perfect moment she let pass by.
She opened the door to her bedroom, heard the squeak it made, and started to step inside, but her mind was buzzing now. When would they next have a moment this private? The days to come were a series of celebrations and dinners and meetings. There would be people everywhere, always watching them. For all she knew, they wouldn’t have another chance until they were at the altar, and then she would be having her first kiss in front of an audience.
No. She didn’t want to wait. She’d spent years making the cautious choices, swallowing down her most reckless impulses, to protect her secret and the crown. Just this once, Rora wanted something that had nothing to do with storms or being royal. She wanted that kiss.
She tugged the door closed, decision made, and turned back toward the archway. As she was about to step through, she heard Casimir say, “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?”
Rora halted. She’d been so caught up in Cassius that she’d forgotten about his brother.
Cassius answered, his voice barely above a growl. “Let me worry about that. It’s working, isn’t it? She’s little better than clay in my hands.”
Rora’s ears started ringing the way they did when a loud noise sounded too close.
“Her mother is powerful. Rumor has it that the girl might be more so. I wouldn’t get too confident.”
“Confidence is exactly what she lacks. I don’t care how much power she has … she’s tentative and unsure. She’s soft. I’ll have no problem bending her to my will. So you can run along and report to Father that everything is moving according to the plan.”
“Where are you going?” Casimir asked, and Cassius’s heavy footfalls only sped up.
“For a walk. Would you like to chaperone me for that as well, big brother?”
There was no reply, but after a few moments, Rora heard Casimir turn and leave too, and when his steps faded into silence she slid down the wall until her legs collapsed beneath her. The corset cut into her hips and thighs in this position, and the weight of the headdress pulled her head forward.
There was a hole in her chest, an awful, gaping hole that screamed like she wanted to. Like a cyclone, it seemed to suck up everything in its path until her knees were curled into her chest and her body hunched, and she just kept collapsing in and in and in. Suddenly unable to breathe, she clawed at the beaded fastenings that connected her headdress and necklace. One of her fingernails bent and splintered as she scrabbled for the hooks; when she could not find them, she took hold of the beaded cord and pulled until it broke, beads scattering across the stone floor around her.
The headdress tipped sideways, tugging painfully on her hair. Again and again, she pulled at the ties until her palms felt raw and beads littered the floor around her. The headdress began to sag, and she was nearly done, nearly free when someone stepped through the archway, and she froze.
Novaya.
Thank the skies. The dark-haired servant held an urn full of steaming water in her hands, and she stared in horror as if she had stumbled upon a monster rather than a crying girl. Nova had been Rora’s closest friend before she cut herself off from everyone at her mother’s command. Girls with secrets the size of Rora’s could not have friends. Nova took a step forward, paused, then knelt down, her large brown eyes carefully blank.
“Should I call for your guards? The queen?” Nova asked.
“No!” Softer, Aurora said, “No. Please don’t tell anyone.”
Once upon a time, Nova had kept all her secrets. Now the two rarely even looked each other in the eye when their paths crossed, and it was all Aurora’s fault.
“Your Highness? What happened?”
Rora shook her head and returned to tugging at the headdress still tangled in her hair. She couldn’t say the words aloud, couldn’t let anyone see how much of a fool she was. Aurora had become accustomed to her shortcomings as a Stormling, as an heir. But she’d thought she had her mother’s strength, tenacity, and intelligence. But maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe she was altogether … inadequate.
“Stop, Princess. You’re hurting yourself.” Nova put the water aside, crawled forward, and grabbed Rora’s wrists. “Aurora, stop.”
All the years spent missing their friendship came rushing back, and she froze at the sound of her name. Not Princess. Not Your Highness. Aurora. But the moment she stopped moving, it all came crashing down on her. Her naïve plan to kiss him, to experience something real. She should have known that her future would hold only more lies. As if she knew anything about real life, real anything. She lived in this palace, protected and pampered and put away like a doll on a shelf, too fragile for anything but appearances. And it seemed that’s all she would ever be.
Cassius wanted control of the city for himself. He thought he’d have to fool her to get it, but the moment the world found out that Rora had no magic, he’d become the ruler in truth, and she’d be the puppet at his side. He wouldn’t have to feign interest in her then. He wouldn’t need her at all.
She wound her arms about her legs and rested her forehead on her knees. Nova moved closer, and Rora sat still and silent as the girl worked to remove the headdress. Her old friend had grown into a beautiful young woman—flawless bronze skin, shiny black hair, stunning features. She’d recently begun assisting the royal seamstress in addition to her position as a maid. She probably had more friends than she could count. Aurora could not help imagining how different her life would be now if she had never become heir.
The headdress finally gave way, and Nova slipped it off and laid it on the stone floor beside them.
“Tell me what happened.”
Rora leaned back against the wall. It was cool against her abused scalp, and she muttered, “Nothing happened.”
At least she had that much. She hadn’t kissed that beast. But what she had done felt worse. She had hoped. And hope broke more hearts than any man ever could.
“Should I get someone? A friend?”
Rora let out a bleak, cold laugh. As if she had any of those. Softer, she said, “I don’t want to see anyone. I just need this dress off. The makeup too. I need to breathe, and I can’t do it through all this mess.”
“I can do that. I came to help remove the headdress and gown. Stand up and we’ll go to your room. Everything will be fine, Your Highness.”
She didn’t tell her old friend how wrong she was, not as she peeled the dress off her and unlaced the corset. Not as she wiped away the powder that was smudged and striped on Rora’s face, thanks to falling tears. Another maid came in with more steaming water for a bath and Rora let them clean her up, wishing it was as easy to wipe away the last few hours.
She sat in the bath until the water grew cold and her skin shriveled like dying fruit. She had to face the facts. The Rage season was coming, as was this sham of a wedding. And she didn’t know how to fight it any more than she knew how to stop a storm.
But she would not give Cassius any more opportunities to see her vulnerable. Nor was she giving up. If there were no other way, she would marry Cassius.
But she had six days. Wars had been won, empires toppled, and cities leveled in less time. If there were a way out of this, Rora would find it.