HOUSE OF CURSES (Royal Houses #3)

3. The Season

3

THE SEASON

“I … can’t … breathe,” Kerrigan gasped out. Her arms were wrapped around a poster in her bedchamber.

Benton and Bayton tittered behind her.

“Just one more pull,” Bayton said softly.

“Yeah, hold still, miss,” Benton agreed.

Kerrigan held her breath as the twins jerked on the laces hard enough to break her ribs. “That’s enough.”

“All done,” Benton said, patting her shoulder. “No one will be able to resist you in this new Parris piece. Though I do have to say, I am not used to all this extra … skin.”

“I fully agree, sister,” Bayton said.

Kerrigan laughed and then regretted it as the stays dug into her. Benton and Bayton were half-Fae twins brought in after the House of Shadows defeat. Under the thousand-year-old spell that had trapped the court inside the mountain, half-Fae and humans had no rights. The Great War was fought over their enslavement, and at the end of it, the House of Shadows was imprisoned in their own mountain. All their old ideals had remained.

She had discovered that the cage that had held them for a thousand years had been put there to save them from destruction. Mei had been the House of Shadows ambassador, and she, like Kerrigan, was a spiritcaster. The last one in a thousand years. She’d given up her life to save her people. The unintended consequences of that being isolation and the enslavement of half-Fae and humans into perpetuity.

Kerrigan had unintentionally connected with Mei’s magic and brought the barrier down, resulting in the Battle of Lethbridge. As terms of surrender for the House of Shadows, all slaves were freed and brought into Kinkadia as refugees. Kerrigan offered to sponsor Benton and Bayton and to get them jobs in the city. They’d refused and insisted on working for her. She insisted on paying them for their job as soon as she received a salary from the Society. Though they continually argued that their freedom was p*****t enough. Not that she had any intention of trading their enslavement for indentured servants.

“You two are insufferable,” she said, heading for the mirror. When she got a glance at the gown Parris had delivered, her breath caught. “Wow.”

Benton and Bayton smirked behind her.

“We told you,” Benton said.

“It’s gorgeous.”

The dress was a soft baby blue and draped across her like a cloud. The corseted top had a square neckline to reveal her cleavage with puffy cloud-like sleeves to her wrists, which were light enough for the Kinkadian spring humidity. She wished she could breathe easier, but Parris was a genius.

He’d also been a member of the House of Dragons as a child. He had been taken in by a fashion mogul, who helped him open his own shop. It was now thriving. She wanted to say it was partially because he saved all his best designs for her, but he was too talented for it to be anything but his own incredible art.

Unfortunately, she had to wear it for March.

Her face fell at that realization. The twins glanced at each other. They’d been with her for two weeks, and they knew better than most exactly how she felt about this forced marriage.

“It will be all right, miss,” Bayton said, taking her hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Prince Fordham will come back,” Benton said with enough conviction to bolster her. “He won’t let you go through with this.”

She swallowed back her unease. It wouldn’t help anything. She needed to have utter certainty to survive the rest of the night. She couldn’t rely on Ford to save her. She was going to have to save herself.

So, she plastered on a smile, thanked the twins, and headed out of the mountain. Clover and Hadrian waited for her before a carriage. And her fake smile turned genuine.

“You didn’t think we’d let you do this alone, did you?” Clover asked.

“Thank you.”

She flung herself into Clover’s arms. Clover chuckled and tugged her tighter. Her cinnamon skin was almost completely obscured in a black dress that might actually have been a flowy set of pants. Her black bob was even more severely cut than normal, and she’d opted for the darkest of red lipsticks that almost looked black. It was still strange to see her out of the Wastes red vest and black button-up uniform. To see her out of Dozan Rook’s colors.

In the year that Kerrigan had been a street fighter for Dozan in the Wastes, Clover had quickly become one of her closest friends. Primarily half-Fae and humans ventured out into the Wastes—a heathen’s den for gambling, drugs, and p**********n. Clover was a card dealer at the establishment. They’d gotten along swimmingly and not parted since.

“And me?” Hadrian asked. He stepped forward, tucking his top hat under his arm, revealing the blue of his hair and his sharply pointed ears.

Kerrigan hugged him next. For so long, Clover had been obsessed with Darby while she and Hadrian had done nothing but snipe at each other. Now, Darby was having her Season, and Clover and Hadrian had found that all that sniping was really attraction. It was complicated by the fact that Darby had never been interested in men, but was marrying for the good of her new noble family. The feelings had never gone away.

Things had been so much simpler once.

“Shall we?” Hadrian asked.

He gestured for them to enter the carriage, and when they were safely tucked inside, they were off. None of them mentioned Darby’s absence or what was about to happen with Kerrigan and March. Their presence was reassurance enough.

“Mind if I smoke?” Clover asked, pulling out a loch cigarette before she could object.

Kerrigan sighed. “If anyone realized what was in that …”

“I know.” She shot Kerrigan a razor-edged smile.

Clover suffered from a chronic illness that resulted in debilitating pain. She was indebted to the king of the Wastes and worked his card tables because loch was the only thing that kept the pain at bay. If she went too long without a smoke, her entire world fell apart.

Hadrian rolled his eyes and adjusted the gold cravat at his throat, indicating his allegiance to Galanthea. He’d been raised on the streets of Kinkadia before joining the House of Dragons, but he was utterly straitlaced. Sometimes, it still amazed Kerrigan that there was anything but animosity between he and Clover.

“Don’t give me that look, sweetheart,” Clover teased, puffing smoke in his direction. “You’ve done loch before.”

Kerrigan gasped. “What?”

Color rushed to his cheeks. “We thought we were dying. That doesn’t count.”

Clover grinned, as if she enjoyed riling him. “Whatever you say.”

“It was during the riots,” Hadrian explained. “We got away through the sewer system. We were both shaken.”

Kerrigan’s face softened. That had been one of the worst nights of her life. Hadrian and Clover had gotten away after the Red Masks boxed them into the streets in the middle of a protest and bombed the nearby buildings. Kerrigan had been arrested for being at the protest and put on probation. The whole thing still weighed on all three of them.

“What are you going to do about Darby?” she asked to change the subject.

Hadrian and Clover exchanged a look. She took another long drag before dumping the rest of the rolled cigarette.

“What is there to do?” Clover asked. “She chose, didn’t she?”

“I suppose she did,” Kerrigan agreed softly. “But …”

“Leave it,” Hadrian argued.

They’d been friends long enough that they could exchange a glance and know what the other was thinking. Their situation was complicated, and putting her nose in it wasn’t going to help anything.

So, she nodded her head and sat back in the seat anxiously. The night hadn’t even begun, and already, she was ready for it to end.

The carriage rolled to a stop before the enormous Row mansion that was hosting the final Season event of the year. The Row was a line of thirty-plus-room manors on the eastern side of the Kinkadian valley, meant for landed money, dating back over a thousand years.

A footman opened the door to their carriage. Kerrigan took a shallow breath to accommodate her tight bodice and then put her hand into the gloved hand of the attendant. But when she took her first step outside, she realized that it was no attendant, but Ashby March.

She lost her footing and stumbled forward. “Oh,” she gasped.

March wrapped an arm around her torso, sending tendrils of ice across every inch of her skin. Her chest pressed tight to his, and she tried not to shiver in his embrace. His eyes were the darkest blue as they met hers with tender affection and none of the deadly predator she knew was inside him.

“My lady,” he said, releasing her slowly.

Kerrigan stepped away and tried to pretend it was for propriety and not disgust. “My lord.” She dipped into a shallow curtsy to avoid his gaze.

He bowed slightly at the waist. “You look stunning tonight.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

He held his elbow out to her, and she put her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. His cravat was the navy of the Bryonican tribe, and the House of Medallion coat of arms was emblazoned on the breast of his jacket. But the pocket square and undershirt were the exact same color of baby blue as her dress.

“I have missed you these past weeks,” he said with earnest.

She swallowed the words she wanted to say. March could be charming, and he was definitely attractive. But she’d seen the mask fall when he threatened innocents if she did not marry him and give him his crown. Just because he had come around to her at the battle did not mean that his mood couldn’t shift with the wind.

“My duties to the Society keep me occupied.”

“We will have to get to know each other more in the months leading up to the wedding,” he said with a smile. “I want to hear all about your duties.”

“Ah, well, I was nominated for the Society council.”

His eyes gleamed with delight. “Truly? So young?”

“Yes. Though I doubt I will win. I don’t have the means of others.”

March grinned, and it was terrifying. “Whatever do you mean? You are an heiress to the House of Cruse and betrothed to the heir of the House of Medallion. You can have whatever you want. If you want to win the council seat, then allow me to put the entire weight of Bryonica behind it.”

His offer was tempting. So tempting that she nearly stopped breathing entirely. She had only ever thought of Bryonica as the place that had abandoned her. As the people who hadn’t seen that she wasn’t a missing princess. Rather, she had been thrown away, right under their noses.

She had never considered the advantage of being in the wealthiest of the tribes. What it would mean to have two of the four royal houses backing her financially and using their influence to persuade the other members. How March, a war hero, could get her what she wanted. If that was what she wanted.

“Is that what you want, Kerrigan?” he asked as they stepped up to be announced.

A weight settled in her stomach at the eagerness in his voice. If she let him do this, then he would own her seat. He would see it as another one of his victories. She could do so much with that seat. Help half-Fae and humans alike, enact changes from on high, be the voice that was so needed in the government. Was that worth it to be in debt to Ashby March?

“Lord Ashby March, First of the House of Medallion of Bryonica,” a man called out before she could get her thoughts together enough to answer. “And Lady Felicity Argon, First of the House of Cruse of Bryonica.”

Kerrigan cringed at the use of her first name. She wasn’t Felicity any longer. Felicity was the female she would have grown into if she were fully Fae, if her ears were sharply pointed, and if she’d been the good little girl that everyone wanted her to be. Felicity had died thirteen years ago, and Kerrigan had been reborn out of the ashes.

The last time someone had called her Felicity, Fordham had threatened them within an inch of their life for the insult. March just looked smug.

He tugged her forward into the mass of people at the party. She disappeared inside of herself as he walked her around the room like a pet on display. No one sneered at her with him at her elbow the way they did when she was alone. But pretending to consider him an actual option rubbed her. She felt like something had slithered under her skin and was threatening to break free.

“There you are!” a voice said behind her.

She turned to find Darby in a rose-petal dress that highlighted her onyx skin and lush, long black coils. Kerrigan released a harsh breath and drew her friend in for a hug. “Save me,” she whispered into her ear.

“Lord March, it’s a pleasure,” Darby said with a deep curtsy.

“Ah, you’re the House of Stoirm girl.”

“That’s right.”

“And you’re betrothed to Lord Trask.”

Kerrigan blinked at the pair of them. “What?”

Darby forced a smile. “I am.”

“Where is Trask?” March asked, surveying the room.

“He went for a cigar in the sitting room, my lord. Perhaps you should join him.”

“Perhaps I shall.” March took Kerrigan’s hand in his and pressed a hard kiss on it. “Don’t go too far, my dear.”

Kerrigan fluttered her eyelashes and gave him a doting smile. “Never.”

He seemed satisfied with that before striding across the room.

“What was that?” Darby asked. She linked their arms and dragged her out of the crush of people. “Are you and March actually in love?”

Kerrigan snorted. “March thinks he is in love with me.”

“But you are marrying him?”

“I have no choice,” she hissed and then explained the current situation. “If there is a way out, I would be open to hearing it.”

Darby frowned. “Kerrigan, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”

“And you? Lord Trask?”

“Ah, yes.” She fiddled with the sleeve of her pink gown. “It was Sonali’s top choice. He’s Third to the House of Drame, not too old, attractive I’m told.”

“You’re told.”

Darby sighed. “It’s the best I could do since you took the only prince off the market.”

“Not my intention, I assure you. But why did I not hear about this?”

“It happened … rather suddenly.”

Kerrigan tugged her deeper out of earshot. “Was this after you found out about Hadrian and Clover?”

Darby deflated. Her eyes scoured the room, finding Hadrian and Clover against the opposite wall, drinking punch and laughing. “If they’re going to be happy, then I might as well let them. This is what I wanted after all.”

“This is your duty. Not what you wanted,” she reminded her.

“Same as you then.”

“No one is threatening you, Darbs. You could take another Season …”

“I’m the belle of the ball, Kerrigan. This is my Season. If I wait, then I might not have another opportunity like this.”

“And what about Clover?”

Darby’s gaze dropped. “After I have my first child, I will have more freedom.”

Kerrigan sighed and drew her friend in for a hug. She had as much power as Kerrigan did in this situation. The binds of society were as strong as ever. Clover and Darby couldn’t be together without giving up everything Darby had ever worked for. Nothing about this was easy.

“I’m here, you know. You can come to me about anything.”

“Thank you, Ker. I really miss you.”

“Always.”

An announcement went up to the entire court that betrothals were to be introduced. Kerrigan and Darby swapped a look. It was now or never.