A Wedding
When she woke Beth was no longer in her bed. Well, technically she was, but it wasn’t the bed she’d fallen asleep in. She was back in her old room in Faerie, at the Dark Court.
What the hell?
This had to be some sort of dream. Why else would the room be the same as it was when she’d left it six years ago? Down to the half-drunk glass of Fae wine that she’d snuck in here only hours before the incident.
She sat up, which turned out to be somewhat of a mistake. Could you get nauseated in dreams? She put a hand to her head as the room spun a bit, shimmying around her in ellipses before settling down. The white gauze that draped the canopy bed frame clung to her dress as she struggled to stand. Wait, dress?
The stone was freezing against her bare feet as she hurried to the floor length mirror that still resided beside the wardrobe.
Beth had never been one to be shocked by anything less than alien invasion, but the sight beheld in the mirror drew from her an audible gasp. She brought her hand to her mouth. She was wearing what could only be a wedding dress.
White and floor length, the garment was embroidered with silver celtic knot work around every hem. The material gathered at the waist and cascaded out like a frozen waterfall. It was low cut but thankfully had sleeves, even though they opened at her elbows like bells. The Dark Court was also known as the Winter Court, and with good reason. It was always cold in the Pale Palace. The edges of her sleeves seemed to sparkle a bit, just as the bottom part of her skirts did. She swallowed down a gag, and then noticed her hair.
Her previously rebellious waves were piled atop her head in countless braids, so intricate that they looked like celtic knot work as well. And tucked into the braids via a gorgeous, glittering comb was a veil, that reached down to the floor.
This time she did throw up, reaching for the wastebasket beside the vanity that she was so glad hadn’t been moved. There was nothing in her stomach but bile, but her gag reflex didn’t care as it continued to throw a fit.
She realized when she set the wastebasket down that holding it had made her hands dirty. In fact, she noticed as she looked around, everything in the room was covered in a thick layer of dust. As if literally no one had touched the place for six years. It came to her that this couldn’t be a dream, her subconscious was never this detail oriented. She’d fallen asleep in her bed, in her and Benji’s house in the mortal realm and woken up in her old bed at the Pale Palace dressed like a bride. Again, what the hell?
Her makeup, she noticed belatedly as she glanced back at the mirror, was also mostly silver and sparkly. Except for her amethyst eyes, which had been framed in a healthy serving of black liner and mascara. Damn, she needed to get her some Fae mascara. Her lashes were so long and thick she had to tug on them to make sure they were real. Which they were. Ow.
The door opened without warning and she jumped, turning to face the intruder with a mouthful of questions. All of them died on her tongue when she came face to face with her old nanny, Benji’s mother.
“Miss Katherine,” said Beth on an exhale. She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or terrified. Katherine had every right to hate her.
“Elizabeth,” Katherine said. Her voice cut like ice. Apparently, she knew her rights and utilized them quite well.
“I’m so sorry,” Beth found herself saying.
There were a million other things she should be doing. Running, for instance. Or at the very least inquiring as to how the hell she’d ended up here. But she had felt bad for so long for taking Benji away from his mother. It had been his choice, ultimately, but Beth had been leaving because of what she’d done in his defense. She hoped he hadn’t come along because he felt that he’d owed it to her, but she couldn’t be sure.
Benji had assured her on the few times she’d brought it up over the years that he’d come of his own volition, but there was always doubt in her mind. The guilt gobbled her up sometimes, bit at her in sharp, painful stabs.
Katherine’s lips pursed as the woman regarded her. In her right hand was a pair of slippers. White slippers. Slippers that would match this ridiculous, beautiful dress. Beth swallowed.
“As long as both of you are safe,” Katherine said, managing to sound a tad less chilling.
“We are. I mean, he is,” said Beth. “I’m not so sure about myself. How did I get here? Is Delphine here? Why am I wearing a wedding dress?”
She thought back to what she remembered of last night. She must have been drugged to be unconscious for not only transport but for the extreme makeover as well. Had she taken something? The Fae wine was the only thing she’d drunk at home, and Sebastian would never poison her. Nor would any of her roommates. She trusted them all, despite their quirks.
If she had been slipped something it must have been at the Glen during her shift. She’d been treating herself to a celebratory shot of schnapps for every fifty bucks she made in tips. There were a few instances where she’d poured a shot and had to tend to customers before she could get to drinking it. A lot of opportunity for someone to slip something in. Damn. There had been all sorts of Dark Fae at the bar, people that she’d bet anything were here now.
Katherine cleared her throat. “Delphine has been gone for some time. And you’re here because . . . you’re getting married.” She looked a little ashamed that the words had come from her lips.
As well she should, Beth decided, as those words stole the breath from her lungs. The room started back up on its ellipses again. All thoughts of Delphine fled from her mind as she reached for the post on the bed frame in an attempt to stay upright. “At whose order?”
“Your mother’s and the Queen’s,” Katherine said. Her lips came together to their pursed position. If Beth recalled correctly, that was their natural state.
No. No no no. This couldn’t be happening. Her mother had all but disowned her six years ago, why was she finally claiming her now? The only people by Fae law who could force her into marriage were her parents, namely her mother. And the cold-hearted bitch was taking advantage.
Beth began pacing.
“I have shoes for you.”
“This is bullshit,” Beth muttered, her mind sputtering over the end of her single life and frantically scrabbling to come up with a plan to prevent it.
Katherine’s lips pursed tighter, which Beth hadn’t known was possible. “Elizabeth. Put on your shoes. I’m to bring you down to the throne room immediately.”
“Who am I marrying?” she asked. So far, her plan included running the instant the two of them stepped into the hallway. She’d escaped this opulently disguised prison before and she could do it again, even in this damned dress.
Katherine gestured for her to sit so the slippers could be placed upon her feet, but Beth opted to do it herself. Taking the slippers, she lifted one foot at a time, sliding them on.
“Sir Ronan Mac Nevin.”
Beth gasped again. Twice in one day, this was becoming a habit. “The Queen’s Knight? No. No way. Seriously? Why?”
Katherine came forward and brushed off any dust that clung to the dress. “That is not for me to answer, Elizabeth.”
“Betcha nobody else will though,” Beth grumbled.
She glanced down at her nails and noted that they were black instead of white or silver, which was a nice contrast to the rest of her outfit. Damnit. She hated that the Dark Fae were so fashion forward.
She followed Katherine to the hall where her heart sank as two guards each took ahold of one of her shoulders. So much for plan A. And so much for avoiding the Dark Lady Maeve; she of the winter crown and off-with-your-head mentality.
This was such crap. Marriage alone was something that she’d sworn off for at least twenty more years. Being Mac Nevin’s bride meant accepting his debts and promises, just as he would accept hers. But she had none! No one knew but her mother and Benji about the murder six years ago, and she was pretty sure it had been passed off as a freak occurrence, not linked to her thirteen-year-old self.
So the Knight was getting a squeaky-clean woman when most Fae grooms had to deal with tons of boons owed and oaths made. While Beth was about to become the Dark Lady’s little bitch monkey!
She began to panic, her breath coming in short hard bursts as she tried to drag air into her frozen lungs. Oh, god. This was it. It was over. She’d never make it back home. Would never again drop her keys on the porch of that wobbly, christmas-light-strewn house by the ocean. She would spend the rest of her life at the whim of the bitchiest queen in existence and her top thug.
“Calm down. This is an honor.” Katherine sounded sad.
She had to be wondering if Beth and Benji had ever gotten together. For all Katherine knew she could be walking her son’s love into the arms of some other man, and she would have no choice.
Beth was heated by a sudden, fierce outrage on Katherine’s behalf, which didn’t help her hyperventilating.
“Stop,” Katherine said to the guards, who halted abruptly.
She moved to stand in front of Beth and put her cool hands on her cheeks, which helped to slow her heart ever so slightly.
“Elizabeth, it would do you well to think of this as a great gift.”
Yes. It probably would do her well to think of it that way. To just accept her fate and willingly kiss her home and friends and dreams goodbye. She understood the earnest in Katherine’s words though. If she fought this, it would mean her head. It would mean her mother’s head too, which was almost enough to make her want to, just to repay her for making Beth do this at all.
But no. If she fought this and lost her life, then she would never see Benji or Rose or anyone again. That wasn’t worth it. She would make sure she kept them in her life after this stupid ceremony was over. She had no idea what Ronan Mac Nevin was like, but maybe he would let her travel. That wasn’t unheard of between Fae couples, was it?
She couldn’t remember.
Once Katherine seemed satisfied that Beth wouldn’t pass out between the guards they retook their pace. The throne room was in sight and fast approaching. Before she had time to think or scheme anymore they were through the doors.
The room had to have at least twice as many people that had been at the Glen last night, and that was saying a lot. Beth tried not to hyperventilate again. The crowd cleared, and she was led to the end of an aisle. A black velvet aisle with silver trim. It was pretty, she reluctantly admitted to herself. At least if she was being forced to wed it would be a pretty wedding. Maybe not one she would have chosen for herself, the lack of color irked her, but pretty all the same.
At the end of the aisle was a throne, upon which sat the Dark Lady. Her skin was luminously pale and her hair was raven black, glossy and braided in a pile atop her head. Her dress was also black and even more intricately designed than the astonishing wedding dress that Beth sported. Her dark red lipstick matched sharp looking nails, which she tapped thoughtfully against her chin.
She leaned forward slightly, her back straight, and set to examining Beth from head to slippered toe. Beth met her eyes when she was through.
“She’ll do,” said the Queen, her voice a bit deeper than Beth expected from someone who looked so delicate.
The crowd cheered in response.
Beth’s eyes were drawn to the guy who had to be the Knight, standing to the right of the Queen. He was as beautiful as everyone said he was. His hair was long, straight and a pale, almost silver blonde. Half of it was tied back behind his head and the rest hung down unhindered, giving him an ethereal, Legolas type glow. He wore a black outfit that somehow managed to show off his perfect physique while still seeming formal. He had a light weapons belt slung across his hips from which a sword of some kind dangled. He maintained a warrior’s stance; straight with his legs spread slightly, arms behind his back. His midnight blue eyes were focused on the Queen. He hadn’t yet even glanced at Beth.
Beth searched the crowd for Delphine, but hadn’t Katherine said she’d left? She’d left and hadn’t searched out Beth or Benji? If Beth wasn’t completely overwhelmed with the situation at hand she would have been much more confused and hurt. However the situation at hand needed all of her attention.
Off to the side at the front Beth spotted her mother, who was cheering just as jubilantly as the rest of the crowd. The Fae’s cheeks were flushed red and the dark gold hair that Beth had inherited looked less voluptuous than she remembered. The woman attempted an innocent wave when she noticed Beth’s gaze, and Beth promptly flipped her off.
The Dark Lady laughed, having caught the action. “You were always spirited, young Elizabeth. Are you ready to proceed?”
Beth wet her lips. Hell no, she wasn’t ready to proceed. But beneath the Queen’s mirthful smile was a predator waiting to attack and she knew it. She had seen people with far less noble blood killed for far less than refusing to marry the Queen’s own personal Knight. So Beth nodded, unable to find her voice.
The Queen made a gesture and the room quieted while music erupted from violinists all around. Katherine ever so slightly pushed Beth onto the carpet and she managed not to stumble.
Ronan turned, finally facing away from his lover, and his mouth opened slightly when he found her, like he hadn’t expected to see her there. He closed it again and brought his arms from his back to rest at his sides, bringing his feet closer together in the same motion.
Beth tried to step in time to the music. However, this wasn’t the mortal wedding march that had a distinctive and demanding beat, so she failed miserably. From the stern look on his face Beth could guess that this wasn’t Ronan’s idea either.
Why would the Queen force one of the only people who was supposed to be truly important to her to wed a stranger? It couldn’t before political reasons. Beth had absolutely no affiliations. What else had Sian said? Beth couldn’t remember, and nothing was making sense.
Her mother had something to do with it too. If only she had more time to figure this out, then perhaps she could find a way out of it. Maybe cite some overlooked fine print or something.
Before she knew it, she was stopping in front of the Knight of the Unseelie Court. She noted the foot height difference between them and looked up into his face. His expression was almost completely neutral, the only hint at real feelings was the slight dip between his perfect eyebrows.
“You are fortunate in the wife that I have chosen for you, Ronan,” purred the Dark Lady. “She has neither oaths nor boons for you to bear. Elizabeth, however, must swear an oath to me.”
Beth swallowed once, twice, and then nodded after her voice again refused to join the party. She turned toward the throne.
“Ronan Mac Nevin’s oath is thus,” the Queen said, gesturing for a man who had been standing behind the throne to step forward and read out of a leather-bound book.
“To protect the Dark Queen at all costs,” he said, his voice high and reedy. “To do her bidding and defend her title and in her name, to carry out justice. To pleasure her at any summons and to always think of her before one’s self.”
“Do you agree to this oath, Elizabeth Cavanagh?” asked the Queen.
Beth was staring at Ronan in disbelief. Her mouth had even dropped open slightly.
That oath was ridiculous! Be at her beck and call all the goddamned time. Would she be expected to pleasure the Queen? Beth hadn’t been kidding about becoming the Dark Lady’s little bitch monkey, apparently. But what choice did she have? Her mother had obviously brokered some sort of deal with the Queen. Why else would this match have even been considered otherwise?
“Y-Yes,” she managed, her voice still hoarse from trying to give these assholes good customer service last night. One of them had even drugged her for it!
“And do you accept any and all boons that Ronan Mac Nevin may owe, so that you might be called upon to perform or deliver them instead of or as well as he?” asked the Dark Lady.
“Yes,” said Beth, hoping her soon-to-be hadn’t pissed off anyone dangerous. Who was she kidding, though? Ronan was the Queen’s Knight. He had probably pissed off every single Fae in existence at one point or another on behalf of her Royal Bitchiness.
“And Ronan. Do you swear to protect Elizabeth Cavanagh and take partial responsibilities for any oaths or boons she may give or owe in the future?”
Ronan looked at the Dark Lady then, his eyes shuttered and his face composed. “Yes,” he said, his voice spine-tinglingly deep and slightly rough.
“Then kiss her,” the Queen said. It almost sounded like a dare. Her lips even curved up as if she were taunting him.
Ronan grounded his teeth, took a deep breath, and leaned down to brush his lips across Beth’s.
And that should have been the end of it; a simple, albeit awkward kiss in front of dozens of beautiful onlookers. But Beth wasn’t prepared for the ripple of pure energy that traveled from her lips to her toes the instant they touched. Nor was he, judging by the way his eyes widened, and then closed. He pressed a little harder and then they were really kissing. Jack and Rose on the bow of the Titanic kissing. His hand came up to cup her cheek and her eyes slid shut. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that she was signing away the life she had worked so hard for.
Then the Queen cleared her throat daintily and he stepped back, and it mattered again, it mattered a lot. Beth blinked back a few tears and fisted her hands, trying to get her breathing under control. The kiss had amped her up and left her feeling somewhat needy, but she had never felt anything as dangerous as it had been. That was the kind of kiss a girl could get lost in for days.
“I’m giving you a week’s honeymoon, as custom dictates,” said the Queen who didn’t look nearly as pleased as she had before that world-shattering kiss. “Which will commence tomorrow morning. Tonight, we rejoice.”
She clapped her hands together and suddenly Katherine was tugging Beth away.
“Let’s go get you changed,” said Katherine quietly as the crowd began to disburse.
Beth looked back to find Ronan still in place, watching her go with a frown marring his stunning features.