Chapter 2

Father seized my wrist and dragged me onto the dais. “Apologize to Liriel.”

Caerwyn stood beside him, his face stern with borrowed authority. “If you refuse, none of us will attend your wedding. Think what the court will say when the bride’s own house abandons her.”

They knew the marriage mattered to me. They had known for seven years. I had spent months choosing the vows and the flowers. Not one of them had asked what I wanted.

I looked at Liriel. “I’m sorry.”

“Louder,” Mother said. “She’s upset.”

I repeated it until my throat scraped raw. Liriel finally smiled. Then she tipped a cup of sweet cream over my head and laughed.

“Here. Eat.”

My skin began to burn. I was allergic to the cream. I had told them since I was a child.

Mother dabbed at the blood on my brow. “We only want to treat you both fairly.”

Father kicked my boot when I folded to the floor. “Stop pretending. Apologize properly.”

I woke in the palace infirmary with Thalion beside me. The court healer had stopped the swelling and the wheezing. My family had called it another performance until one of the servants saw my lips turning blue.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Thalion asked, shame flickering over his face.

I had. Many times.

When Liriel was ill, my parents left me with Aelwen in the border village. She chased them off whenever they tried to make me surrender a meal, a dress, or a holiday to Liriel. She died when I was seven, squeezing my hand beneath the blankets.

“No one will protect you for me now, little star,” she whispered. “So learn to protect yourself.”

I had tried being good for years. It had never made them listen.

“Thalion,” I said, “I’m ending the betrothal.”

He blinked. “You’re exhausted. You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“After the vows, I’ll take you to the western isles. Just us. No rites, no Liriel.”

His voice was tender. His scrying mirror showed a travel charter open on the table. For one foolish moment, I almost believed him.

Then Liriel called. Her voice trembled through the mirror.

“Thalion, where are you?”

His expression softened. “I’m coming, little one.” He turned back to me. “The ceremony is postponed for a fortnight. You need to recover.”

My father nodded. “Liriel can finish the preparations. You rest.”

I watched Thalion leave. Then I sent a raven to the royal archives and accepted the five-year post I had once declined: envoy to the southern elven court.

If they would only ever give me the villain’s part, I would leave the stage.