HOUSE OF CURSES (Royal Houses #3)

1. The Wedding

1

THE WEDDING

The mirror revealed a distorted reflection.

“You look lovely,” Audria said from her left.

Darby nodded eagerly. “Stunning. You will be the prettiest bride of the entire Season.”

Bride.

That word hadn’t sunk in yet.

Even though Kerrigan was standing in a lush white gown—the most stunning her designer, Parris, had ever created for her—it didn’t feel real. None of this felt real. And how could it after everything she had gone through to get here?

“You don’t have to do this,” Darby whispered, glancing nervously at Audria.

“Yes, she does,” Audria said with a sigh. “There is no way that March will let her out of this.”

She was right.

Audria was always right. She had been Kerrigan’s closest friend as a child before she disappeared into the House of Dragons—a feeder program for wayward youth to join a tribe. And while Darby might be Bryonican now, she had been Kerrigan’s roommate when they both were Dragon Blessed nobodies.

“We can get her out of here,” Darby argued.

“To what end?” Audria asked. She plucked at her navy-blue sleeve—the color of the Bryonican tribe. “If she doesn’t show, the House of Medallion will crush the House of Cruse.”

Kerrigan winced. The House of Cruse were her people. She might have been thrown out like the trash, but the people had always hoped for her return. They were innocent in this.

Two weeks ago, she’d been kicked out of the Society, lost her dragon, and incited a riot against the same organization. Then, war broke out. She was called to the battlefield to fight the recently released House of Shadows. They’d succeeded in stopping their advance, and she had been given her much coveted spot as a dragon rider, but she had to release her affiliation to the traitorous court, only to regain the mantle she had shed at five years old—a Bryonican princess. Felicity Kerrigan Argon, First of the House of Cruse of Bryonica.

Now, to save her people, she was set to marry her enemy. No pretty dress could make marrying Ashby March any better. If she didn’t marry him, he would destroy her house. He wanted to be king too much to not follow through on his threat. He might have changed his tune after the battle when he deigned to see her as an equal, but love wouldn’t stay his hand.

“But …” Darby argued.

“Stop,” Kerrigan said with a sigh. “I’ve already made my choice. I was betrothed to March at birth. The documents were signed long ago. Legally, I could snub him and walk away from this marriage before the king and queen. The consequences though …”

Her friends looked up at her in dismay. They all knew there was no other choice.

A knock sounded at the door. Mistress Hellina—First of the House of Stoirm, her mentor and surrogate mother—peeked her head inside. “Are you ready?”

“Helly,” Kerrigan whispered.

She took Kerrigan’s hands. “Chin up, my dear. You can get through this.”

Helly had her back. She would still live in the mountain after this. She would still be a Society member. March would get his throne, but he would never have her heart. Never.

“I’m ready.”

Audria and Darby took up the long train of her dress as Helly led the way to the palace throne room. Belcourt Palace was at the heart of the Bryonican capital, Rosemont. The venue was a true honor bestowed upon them by the crown. It helped that March’s great-aunt was the queen. That their union would likely mean they would ascend to the coveted royal position. Fae were long-lived, but after one to two thousand years, their will to continue faded, and thus, they moved on. Many believed the king would enter the abyss as soon as a replacement was clear.

“Breathe,” Helly reminded her.

Then, she disappeared to her seat inside.

Littlings scattered the golden sunflower petals that bloomed all over Rosemont during the summer. A string quartet played the opening notes to the famous wedding tune. The double doors opened to reveal Kerrigan in all of her splendor, and the crowd rose to their feet, facing her with awe on their faces.

The awe was warranted. Her dress was a delight. Layer upon layer of white fabric gave her an impressive empire waist with a full skirt to the floor and a train that cascaded behind her. The bodice fit her like a glove with careful boning to hold it up, a V in the front and back, and a bow wrapping tight around her waist. The sleeves fell off her shoulders, revealing her pronounced décolleté. But the mesmerizing thing about the entire ensemble was the magic threaded through the dress. It had no ornament. No diamonds or rubies or sapphires to make it glow. The dress shimmered from top to bottom, as if pixie lights danced under the surface. Parris had imbued it with so much of his magic that it dazzled. Every person in attendance was going to want a gown from his commission. All those years of not paying for dresses and calling it advertising was finally paying off.

A hush fell over the crowd. Her father, Kivrin, stood in the front row. It was customary for him to walk her down the aisle, and though he had offered, she had declined. She wouldn’t bring him into this sham.

She stepped forward in the heeled slipper and tried to forget that she was entering an arranged marriage. That she hated her future husband. That there was nothing she could do to stop this.

That … there was only one person who could do anything about this.

And he’d left.

Her heart panged as her thoughts veered to Ford. Today was the last day she should think of him. Not as Prince Fordham Ollivier of the House of Shadows, but as her Ford. The male she had fallen in love with. The male who had flown off into the distance to break the curse that kept them apart. He wasn’t going to barge in today and demand her to be released from this bargain.

Still, her heart hoped. The traitorous thing.

She stopped before the dais, and finally, she lifted her gaze to March.

He was no longer the cherub-faced youth who had skinned squirrels alive to see what they looked like on the inside or the dangerous person he’d been who knew how to give her bruises where no one would see them. She’d hoped he would be ugly, but of course, full-blooded Fae were rarely unattractive. And he was devastatingly attractive. All sharp angles, hard jawline, dark features, and imperious blue eyes. He was tall and arrogant and charming. The bachelor of the season. And her worst nightmare.

His smile was as deadly as his anger. He thought he had fallen for her, that he understood love. But all he knew was that she was like him. She had been successful on the battlefield, a sight to behold atop her dragon, Tieran, and he had seen himself in that and suddenly wanted her.

“My lady,” March said, offering her his hand.

She glanced over her shoulder. Just one time with hope that Fordham would save her from this, but the doors were barred. No one would be getting through them. Though Fordham had his shadow magic and could jump inside this room anytime he wanted, he hadn’t made his appearance. She knew what that meant. She’d always known.

Love meant despair and defeat and death to Prince Fordham.

Love would never be enough.

“Kerrigan,” March said. His voice a note sharper. As if he knew precisely what she was thinking.

She turned her gaze back to him. Let him see the fury in her emerald eyes. Fury at him for forcing this upon her. For thinking that taming her unruly red curls into a delicate crown, hiding her softly pointed ears that revealed her half-Fae heritage, and draping her in frippery would change who she was or how she felt about him. She held that gaze for a beat and watched the shock appear on his face.

He had thought she had come around. That she could ever want this or him. She had let him think that while she planned a way out. Now that there was no way out, she could let him see precisely who he was marrying.

His face hardened, and he took her hand in a crushing grip. “Shall we?”

She stepped up onto the dais before the entire Bryonican court.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today for the marriage of Lord Ashby Hallinger March, First of the House of Medallion, to Lady Felicity Kerrigan Argon, First of the House of Cruse.”

The rest of the words disappeared in a haze. She was committed now. There was no turning back. Nothing could stop this. No cloud of black smoke to tilt her world back onto its axis. This was a nightmare that she couldn’t escape.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

And at the first touch of March’s hard lips against her own, she started screaming.

Kerrigan rocketed upright. Her screams tapered off as her gaze shifted around the dimly lit classroom inside Draco Mountain. The other two newest Society members, Audria and Roake, stared at her in horror. The current government instructor, Master Hayes, shot her a steely look.

“Is my instruction that horrifying, Mistress Kerrigan?”

She opened her mouth and then promptly closed it. It had been a dream. A literal nightmare. She wasn’t marrying March … yet. She still had months before that day came. Months before she had to walk down the aisle at Belcourt Palace. She didn’t even have a dress yet. They hadn’t even officially announced their intent to marry. That wouldn’t be happening until tomorrow at the final Season event of the year.

“My apologies, Master Hayes,” she croaked out.

She had been burning the candle at both ends ever since her return from the battlefield. Most nights were spent in nightmares that woke her, crying into her pillow. Her days were filled with catching up on studies, her new apprenticeship, and the current influx of half-Fae and human refugees from the House of Shadows. Now, apparently, her mind had taken her anxiety about seeing March again and forced their literal wedding into her nightmares.

Scales.

“Well, with that rousing excitement,” Hayes said, barely containing his eye roll, “we’ll call it for the day. You have your assignments. I expect better work from you. Just because you’re full members doesn’t mean you don’t have to pass your exam with me.”

They all nodded, dumping parchment into bags, and hastened out of the room.

Audria shot her a look. “Battlefield again?”

Kerrigan just nodded. Easier than explaining about March. “It’s keeping me up at night.”

Roake yawned. “Same.”

The dragon tournament occurred every five years in the city of Kinkadia and last year, they had been three of the five winners. Kerrigan hadn’t officially entered the tournament, as she was underage, without a tribe sponsor, and most importantly, half-Fae. But she had shocked everyone by winning and surviving the last year of dragon training. Noda had left halfway through, and Fordham … well, Ford was a different story entirely. Now, the three of them were all that was left.

“Maybe you should see the healing counselor,” Audria said.

“When would I have time for that?”

Audria sighed. “I don’t know.”

Roake rubbed his eyes. “Maybe after we pass all our exams.”

Audria looked dubious. “I doubt things will slow down after that. They keep piling on more. It’s not like our apprenticeships are going to get easier.”

They’d gotten their assignments a few days after they came back from the Battle of Lethbridge. Audria was apprenticed to a Bryonican healer despite her lack of affinity for healing properties. Roake’s mentor was an Elsiande magical regulator. He was excited about the opportunity to grow even though he’d always seemed more inclined to physical endeavors.

Kerrigan had thought that they’d snub her again. After all, they hadn’t wanted her to win the tournament or finish dragon training or join the Society. Why would they start by giving her a reasonable apprenticeship now? Except they had.

A throat cleared at the end of the hallway. “Mistress Kerrigan.”

They all stilled at the sound of her mentor’s strong voice, and Master Bastian, a full member of the Society council, came into view.

“Master Bastian,” Kerrigan said with a smile. “I don’t believe I am to report to you until the afternoon.”

“Indeed,” he said, clasping his hands behind his black Society robes. The dragon-in-flight coat of arms embroidered delicately onto the chest. “But I come for a different reason.”

“Oh?”

“The council wishes to have a word.”

Fear crept through her. Not again. They couldn’t kick her out now. Not when she was a full member.

He must have seen that fear on her face because his own softened. “As your mentor, I am to inform you that you have been nominated for a seat on the council.”