4. The Introduction
2218 Words
4
THE INTRODUCTION
The king and queen of Bryonica smiled when they saw March and Kerrigan stand before them.
“This pleases me,” Queen Littany said.
Kerrigan’s legs were shaking from holding a curtsy, and her breathing was restricted so severely that she was light-headed.
“Rise,” King Mydran commanded. “It brings me joy to see these two reunited.”
They both straightened. Her with visible relief.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” March said. “This day has long been coming.”
“Indeed it has,” the queen said. “For the future of Bryonica, I would like to extend the invitation to have the wedding at Belcourt at the end of the summer.”
Kerrigan swooned at the words. Belcourt. It wasn’t unusual for an heir to have their wedding at the palace before the king and queen, but Kerrigan had seen that in her dream. And her dreams were just supposed to be dreams. Anything that made it feel more real unsettled her.
“We would be greatly appreciative,” March said.
“What say you, Lady Felicity?”
Kerrigan ground her teeth at the name. “As my lord said, it would be an honor.”
“Excellent. That is settled then.”
The king nodded. “We bless this union.”
March bowed, Kerrigan curtsied, and then they retreated from the spotlight. Kerrigan felt sick. She needed to untie this dress. There wasn’t enough air in her lungs to deal with the oncoming panic attack.
“Well, that went even better than expected,” March said cheerfully.
“Yes. Your aunt seemed happy.”
“She always has favored me.”
Kerrigan had no idea why, but March could fool anyone. He’d even fooled her for a time.
“The end of the summer will be perfection,” March said, dragging her into a private alcove. He pushed her back gently against a pillar, his hands sliding to her waist.
“March,” she warned.
“Do you remember the sunflowers that would bloom across Corsican fields when we were littlings?”
Kerrigan froze. “Yes.”
“I remember them being your favorite. We should have them for the wedding.”
Sunflower petals had lined the aisle as she walked to March in her dream earlier that day. Was it coincidence … or prophecy?
Her spirit magic had first manifested as prophetic visions. They warned her of terrible atrocities throughout the years and guided her to Fordham during the tournament. She hadn’t had one in months, but that didn’t mean that what she’d taken as a dream wasn’t one. She still had so much to learn about her spirit magic, which she would start training officially on the full moon. But the very idea that the dream was a prophecy terrified her.
His lips landed on her shoulder. “What do you think of that?”
“March, stop,” she gasped, trying to step backward. But there was nowhere to go.
His kisses moved up her neck. “We will be wed in a few months, Kerrigan. It is not as if this would be your first time.”
No, she had been with Fordham while they were at Waisley, her ancestral home. March had had spies reporting on her movements and threatened to sue her for her infidelity.
Kerrigan pushed him backward. “That hardly matters.”
“No one will know.”
She felt weak in his presence. His height and arms caging her into the alcove. Not that he could overpower her. She had stronger magic than him. She was hardly powerless in this situation, but the last thing she wanted was to draw out his wrath.
“I will know,” she said venomously.
He smiled at the edge in her voice and then crushed their lips together. Kerrigan gasped. She hadn’t thought that he would have the audacity. Up until that moment, he had played the perfect gentleman. Perhaps more into her than he had been during the Season, but still … he should have never initiated this.
“March, stop,” she cried, pushing against him.
He pulled back enough to trace a finger across her bottom lip. She jerked away.
“Why? If I could, I would have taken you right there on the battlefield. You were still covered in blood from your victory. A cloud of red curls framing your face, and you had never been more beautiful.”
Kerrigan swallowed. “This isn’t proper.”
“f**k proper.”
Then, his lips landed on hers again, crushing and commanding. She could use her air magic to slam him back against the adjacent wall. She could hook her leg behind his and send him tumbling. She could do any number of things that would completely humiliate him. But there was no proper way to extract herself from his grasp, and unfortunately, she couldn’t anger him.
A hand clamped onto March’s shoulder and wrenched him away.
“Excuse me,” March snarled. He whirled around, prepared to argue.
And he was met with her father—Kivrin Argon, First of the House of Cruse.
“Lord Argon.” March’s throat bobbed.
“Unhand my daughter, if you will,” Kivrin said, deathly quiet.
March’s hands were clenched into fists. All she wanted to do was land one in his stupid face.
“I’ll remind you that you are not yet married to my daughter,” Kivrin said. “And you would remember that such pleasures should be reserved for the wedding night.”
March stammered out something like an apology, but Kivrin turned his back and ushered Kerrigan away.
“Thank the gods,” she whispered.
“Next time he puts a hand on you, remind him that you are my daughter,” he said with a wry smile. His gaze met hers. “And knee him in the balls.”
Kerrigan snorted. “I’ll remember that.”
A year earlier, Kivrin would have been the last person she wanted to see. He’d secreted her to the House of Dragons, and she’d lost her family, friends, and title in one fell swoop. She assumed he was embarrassed of her half-Fae heritage. Only to discover that he had done it to protect her. Her mother had been married to Vulsan, a savage man, who would rather kill Kerrigan than allow a bastard to run wild. When he’d come looking for her, Kivrin had hidden her away.
Their new relationship was rocky but promising. She’d never had real family before, only her found family.
“I’m glad that I located you when I did,” he said.
“As am I.”
He shot her a shrewd look. “I’m certain that is true.”
“Why did you seek me out?”
“Your eighteenth name day is approaching. You have returned to Bryonica and taken the name of House of Cruse. I never expected that to happen.”
“My name day isn’t for almost two months.”
“I’m aware of the day that you celebrate, but your actual name day is sooner. Only three weeks or so from now.”
She wrenched him to a stop. “What?”
“It was your mother’s request to hide your official name day to protect you.”
“My … mother’s request,” she whispered. “What else don’t I know about my mother? I thought she died in childbirth.”
His handsome face was like stone, but his eyes were sad. “I won’t discuss Keres with you. I … I can’t.”
Kerrigan softened at the words. “She’s my mother.”
“I know, Kerrigan. I know.”
She had so many questions but asking them now seemed wrong. “What does my name day have to do with this?”
Kivrin pushed open the door and gestured for her to enter. She sighed but did as he’d requested and entered the study. He waved a hand, applying a magical repulsion spell to the room to prevent eavesdropping.
“Kivrin?” she asked.
“I never thought that I would have this moment with you. I didn’t prepare,” he admitted. “I only realized it when the post arrived proclaiming that you had taken up the Bryonican mantle.”
“So?”
He went to the desk and leaned against it. None of the playboy prince was in his features. The weight of the world was on his shoulders. “The House of Cruse has been in decline for many years. Mistress Enara was a formidable woman, revered by all, a Society member. As all the heads of the House of Cruse have been for over a thousand years.”
He never spoke about the grandmother she had never met, but Kerrigan knew enough to be wary of this line of conversation.
“Ever since my mother perished, the other houses have turned against us. Our army has disappeared, which is why you are in this position with March. The fields aren’t producing as they once were. Waisley is practically abandoned. The other houses have jokingly called us the House of Curses.”
Kerrigan had never heard that term before. “We can bring the house back to repute.”
“Not we,” he said solemnly. “You.”
“What does that mean?”
“That they’re not wrong. Our house is cursed. My mother lay a magical geas upon the line to prevent me from taking over after her. She claimed the House of Cruse would crumble unless someone from the Society ruled it.”
Kerrigan sank into the nearest chair at those words. “How could she do that to you?”
“We … didn’t exactly see eye to eye. Everything she claimed has come to pass. I am the ruin of my house,” he said stiffly. His gaze dropped to his hands, and for the first time, she realized they were shaking. He clenched them into fists and then met her eyes. “I have accepted my fate. I accepted that the House of Cruse would forever be fallow. I refused to marry. I promised to never love. To never have children. Then, I met Keres, and nine months later … you.” He choked on the word. “I was going to give you everything my mother never gave me, and I never was able to do that.”
“Dad?” she whispered.
“But now, you’re a Society member. You’re Bryonican. You’re the heiress for house. On your eighteenth name day, I will bestow the house to you.”
Kerrigan’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
This didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be reality. She was going to be eighteen and the head of her entire house?
“With you as the head of House of Cruse, it will fulfill my mother’s requirements. The house will flourish again. The people will be safe. They’ll be … better without me.”
“What if I don’t want the weight of the entire house?”
“I will still be there to take care of day-to-day things, but it will be yours to run as you see fit. It might even be enough to get you out of your wedding.”
Kerrigan jumped back to her feet. “I have been Bryonican again for two weeks. I can’t … I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I didn’t even want to return to the tribe to begin with.”
Kivrin looked pained. “I know, Kerrigan. I do apologize. I wish there were another way.”
“I know we’ve recently reconciled,” she said with a shake of her head, “but I’m getting fed up with having to clean up your messes.”
She headed for the door. Her head was full of everything that her father had just said. A curse … another curse. And she couldn’t break this one. She could only step into the mantle that had been reserved for her father if he had only won his place in the Society. She didn’t want the responsibility. She had too much else to deal with right now.
“Kerrigan, please, let me explain,” he called behind her.
“Don’t bother.”
Then, she was out of the study and dashing away from the Row mansion, the responsibilities that kept piling up, and the weight of everything she had to survive this summer.
She ripped at the ribbons at her back, giving her ribs room to expand and fill her lungs. Stepping out on the empty garden pathways cleared her head.
“There you are,” a shadowy figure said behind her.
Kerrigan drew her magic close to her and whirled, prepared to take on whoever had followed her out of the party.
“I was looking all over for you.”
She sighed with relief when she saw Valia, a steward of the Society and her mole inside the Red Masks. “What are you doing here?”
“Last-minute news.” She tossed a heavy black cloak and a red mask at her. “Still want to stop the Red Masks?”
“Hell yes.”
- Writer
