Adaia sinks onto her throne. “Whether the marriage is consummated or not, you went behind my back to steal my daughter. You married her in secret. You stole her from me. And regardless of your fucking offer to allow her to return at whim, I find I care little for such assurances. You lie as well as you breathe, Evernight. So I will offer you a little bargain, if you dare….”
Don’t trust her, whispers the Darkness within me.
For once it seems to be working in alignment with me.
I don’t, I tell it.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“I fear Iskvien has made a foolish bargain over the course of a mere three days,” she replies. “I would hate for her to regret such impulsiveness. You may have her. For three months of the year, one for every day she has known you. As spring beckons you will return her to me for the rest of the year.”
“Absolutely not.”
She leans forward, a serpent about to strike. “You say you haven’t ensorcelled her? Then prove it. Nine months at my side is long enough to break any enchantment, and we shall know the truth. If she chooses to return to you at the next queensmoot, then I will believe her heart is true.”
“You say you don’t trust me? Then the reverse is also true. If I give her back to you, then I fear I will never see her again,” I counter.
“I will swear such a thing before the alliance,” Adaia replies coldly.
There has to be some trick to it. But I can’t see it. “You will not use your magic to deny her the ability to say she loves me. You will not turn her heart to ice. You will not kill her, or harm her, or allow anyone else to do so either.”
Adaia curls her lip. “I don’t need to, little princeling. She barely knows you. Once she realizes what kind of monster she’s tied herself to, then she’ll come crawling back to me.”
I don’t know why cold panic grips me. “One year is not enough.”
The smile that spreads across her face shows no mercy. “Your doubt reveals your intentions—”
“As I said, I don’t trust you at all. Fifty years.”
“Three.”
“Forty.”
“Four.”
At my side I sense Vi tensing.
“Thirty-five.”
“Five.”
“That’s enough,” Vi gasps. “Enough! Do I not have any say in this?”
“Forgive me.” I’ve been alone for so long that making such decisions by myself is instinct.
Or maybe it’s just instinct to start firing back the second Adaia opens her mouth.
But if I keep doing that, then Vi is going to be the one caught in the middle.
“Thirteen,” says Lucidia, her voice cracking through the tension like a whip.
“What?” For once, both Adaia and I echo each other.
“An auspicious number,” Lucidia continues. “You will have thirteen years to win her heart, Prince Thiago. Every winter, you will have her for your own. Every spring, you will return her to her mother for nine months.” Those gimlet eyes turn to Adaia. “And likewise. The disputed territories in Mistmere will be held in trust by the alliance. By the time the thirteenth queensmoot arrives, the princess must make her final choice. She must choose to stay with her mother, or to fully accept her role as the Prince of Evernight’s wife. Whoever wins will take both the girl and the territories.”
“That is not what he said yesterday,” Adaia spits, on her feet once again and furious. “He gave them to me.”
“And you said they weren’t enough,” Lucidia counters, “not when it came to your daughter’s heart, though I find it interesting you didn’t bother to mention Iskvien, just now. Is that what you want, Adaia? He’s offered you Mistmere in exchange for her hand. Just say the word, and those lands are yours.”
Fury blights those almond-shaped green eyes. Our stares meet, and my thumb, casually stroking Vi’s hand, goes still.
Say it. Agree to it.
Take the fucking lands.
But perhaps she sees my eagerness.
“Thirteen years then,” Adaia whispers. “Thirteen years before Iskvien must make her final choice. But if you lose, then I will take your life too. For the audacity in daring to touch my daughter.”
“I’m not going to lose.” I have to trust in fate. I have to trust in Vi.
“Then swear it,” she hisses. “Swear it thrice, or I am done with this entire mockery of a treaty. Or do you not trust her love?”
“I swear it,” I snap. “I swear it once, twice, thrice.”
Vi gasps. “No!”
I squeeze her hand. “I trust you. I trust what we have. You will never choose her. I know that.”
She swallows. “It’s not me that I don’t trust.”
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss it. It doesn’t matter what Adaia does; she can’t destroy the promise of what we have.
“So be it.” Adaia draws herself to her full height, smiling darkly. “Enjoy the next three months, my darling daughter. I shall see you again come the spring.”
And then she turns and stalks from the Hallow, taking all of the oxygen with her.
“What in the Underworld were you thinking?” Thalia demands, the second we’re safely in my council chambers inside the castle of Ceres.
She hasn’t dared raise her voice before then.
Too many ears who didn’t need to hear this argument.
“I was thinking that I would have her despite the costs,” I snap. “Adaia wasn’t going to back down.”
“You offered your life,” Thalia growls out. “You played directly into that bitch’s hands.”
It’s Vi who comes to the rescue.
“His life is safe,” she says into the ringing echo within the chamber. “I will never choose my mother. I swear it.”
“She’ll try to turn you against me,” I warn. “She has nine months every year to do so.”
Vi’s smile is tremulous. “She can try. She’s spent my entire life trying to mold me to her whims.” A stubborn expression comes into her eyes. One that promises trouble for me, if I ever try to stand against her. “She didn’t succeed then and she
