The first time the fae lit the bonfires and sang in the equinox the way they did in the home world, there was a bloody ambush.
The otherkin fight with fangs and claws, and knives chipped from obsidian or stone. They hunt in packs and prefer ambush over outright confrontation.
And the first time Lammastide darkened the skies, when the fae were merry and drunk, the otherkin slipped from the forests and attacked.
Hundreds died until Blessed Maia and the other fae queens joined their powers together and fueled the fires with their magic, until the otherkin were blinded by the sudden light and left defenseless. The fae retaliated and drove them back, but now we always remember to light the bonfires.
It is an honor for my mother.
It’s a moment where she and her sister queens will stand in power before all the fae assembled.
And it forces her hated enemy, the Prince of Evernight, to bear silent witness as she reigns supreme.
I don’t give a damn about any of it.
“Did you know?” I stare at myself in the mirror, clad in my underthings.
There’s a pair of dresses laid out on the bed behind me.
One is green and gold—the colors of the Goldenhills, now that I know the game is afoot. Mother gifted it to me weeks ago. It’s another slap in the face to know this has been going on for at least a month, and I was completely unaware of it.
“Know what?” my sister asks.
“That she’s sold me to Etan,” I snap.
Andraste pauses, her gaze sliding over everything. It returns, hesitantly, to me. “I thought you were enamored of him. You wrote of him when you served in Queen Maren’s court. You seemed… to bear feelings for him.”
I can’t stop myself from pacing. “That was before I came to know him. He found me today in the tents. He….” I bite the words off. “Marrying him would be… unpleasant.”
Andraste’s eyes sharpen. “Did he threaten you?”
“He practically said I would be his property.”
“Mother’s signed the contract,” she says slowly. “All it requires now is your signature. It was supposed to be announced on the final night.” Her mouth tightens. “I thought you knew.”
How? I can’t stop my gaze from lifting to meet hers in the reflection.
Mother barely speaks to me, and Andraste is too fucking busy with her little court within courts to have time for me.
The courtiers all know which way the wind is blowing.
I’m the queen’s unfavored daughter.
Without magic. Without power. Not even half as pretty as my mother and sister.
And Andraste is angling for the position of heir. She’s built a small court of courtiers around her—the Crown Princess’s Larks, they call themselves. An unofficial title, but one which I’m certain is not too far away.
I don’t know where that leaves me.
“Here.” Andraste pushes me into a seat and gathers my hair into a pile on my head, twisting sections of it into place and considering it. Those blue eyes wear the weight of a thousand years, and sometimes I wonder what she’s seen at court. “Let me fix your hair. Mother will have your head if you appear looking like this.”
It’s been years since we’ve even touched.
I hear the echo of laughter in my ears as she rifles through the pins on my vanity and finds the comb.
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know.” She begins to soothe the silken weight of my dark hair with the comb. “She won’t renege on a signed contract with Maren. If you even mention it, she’ll be furious.”
“I know.”
And Mother’s fury is to be avoided at all costs.
My stomach sinks like a lead weight.
What am I going to do?
“Tell me about Etan,” Andraste murmurs. “Why would marrying him be unpleasant?”
It feels strange to confide in someone, especially her. But Andraste might be my only hope. If Mother will listen to anyone, it’s her.
I tell her everything, finishing with, “He said he intended to visit my tent tonight.”
Andraste weaves golden chains through my hair. Little stars hang from the end of them. “If he wants to get through, then he will. He’ll bribe the guards, and someone of them will have overheard Mother gloating. They’ll know that encouraging Aska’s favor is to be allowed—”
“That’s hardly reassuring—”
Our eyes meet in the mirror again as she says. “You don’t have to be here.”
My mouth feels dry. “Where am I going to stay?”
Staying in her tent isn’t an option. The maids will gossip, and then Mother will want to know what’s going on.
Andraste leans closer, resting her chin on my shoulder as she examines the masterpiece she’s made of my hair. “I don’t know if you can avoid this fate, Vi. I’ll help you. I’ll try to speak to Mother, but you know how she gets. My influence is limited, at best.”
And you don’t want to lose your precious seat at her side.
I look away.
“But maybe you don’t have to give him everything. Etan likes your innocence, and all men like to know they’re the first—maybe they’re afraid they won’t be able to hold up to the memory of any others? But you don’t have to give it to him. Maybe you don’t have the choice in who you will marry, but the gift of your virginity? That’s yours to gift as you please, Vi.”
“What?” My jaw drops open.
“You haven’t signed the contract,” she points out. “As far as Mother knows you are unaware of her plans, as she no doubt intended. The fires will burn for the next three nights while the queens meet. The wine will flow. The dancing will leave us all with blistered feet and sore heads. You’re not expected to do anything other than be seen to be enjoying yourself.”
“That’s not exactly helpful.”
“You want a choice?” Something dangerous beckons in her pretty blue eyes. “Then this is your chance to make that choice. If Etan wants your virginity then deny him that pleasure.”
“I can’t just sleep with a stranger!”
“Why not?”