In the few months since we left the West we’ve both thrown our energy into hunting down bandits. Carrying the guilt of surviving when we’ve lost those we love and knowing the price paid by so many for the sake of the Isles, we’ve attempted to dull our grief by fighting fiercely, not allowing their deaths to be in vain. After raids or battles, when blood had been shed, we always found our way to each other, stealing precious moments to feel alive when surrounded by death. We have sought comfort in each other’s arms, and though we knew it couldn’t last, it was easy to pretend.
I was selfish. I didn’t want to lose him so soon after finding him again. But now, as I stand in my wedding dress longing for a man who isn’t my husband, I see all too clearly that everything’s changed. This marriage will tear us to shreds, will open wounds that will fester – not heal. It’s already started. Today has cut into Bronn as surely as any blade, and I am the one holding the dagger.
I move slightly away from him, steeling myself to do what’s necessary. ‘I have a job for you.’
Bronn frowns. ‘A job?’ He doesn’t sound impressed.
I peer round the pillar and point to the long-haired man still lurking in the shadows.
‘Find out who that is.’
Bronn follows my gaze, before looking back at me. ‘Doesn’t Torin know?’
I shake my head. ‘If he’s not a guest, I don’t know how he got past the guards. I don’t trust him. He watches too closely. I would feel better if you could follow him. Question him.’
My concern is real, but the truth is that I’m also trying to put some distance between us, and assigning Bronn a mission is the best way to do that. The look he’s giving me suggests he knows my motives. Knows I’m saying goodbye.
It’s a while before he speaks and when he does his voice is colder. ‘Consider it done, Captain.’
And, giving the curtest of nods, Bronn walks away. It’s as if he’s extinguished all the candles and stolen the stars. My world has never felt so dark.
The celebrations last too long, but eventually Torin and I are escorted to our wedding chamber, high up in the east tower, with bawdy laughter and coarse jokes being thrown at us the whole way.
Once the door is mercifully shut, Torin leans against it and exhales, while I kick the empty chamber pot across the room.
‘That lying, cheating, conniving piece of scum!’ I can no longer contain my rage towards the King, and it spews out of me in an uncontrollable stream. ‘Rotten, scheming hagbreather!’
‘Yes, my father never fails to disappoint,’ Torin growls.
‘Backstabbing, treacherous wartwhale! We should never have trusted him for a minute.’
Torin sighs, rubbing his jaw. ‘You mean I shouldn’t have trusted him.’
His frustration with himself tempers my fury. ‘You wanted to try the peaceful approach first,’ I say, collapsing backwards on to the bed, flinging my arms out wide. ‘It was the right thing to do.’
Torin comes to perch beside me, removing his boots. ‘I should have known better. My father will do anything to cling to his power.’
‘No, it’s my fault. I was too lenient on my return.’ Worn down from fighting, I allowed the King to feel safe. I should have poured fire on his agreement with Torin, forced him to abdicate immediately. And now, because of my weakness, things are going to get ugly.
Torin lies back next to me and for a moment we just stare at each other, too weary for anything else. ‘Let’s not dwell on it any longer,’ he says eventually. ‘Let’s have just a few moments of the day untarnished by his presence. Tomorrow, the fight can resume. We’ll insist he keep his word and give up the throne as agreed. You have the document he signed, don’t you?’
I nod. ‘In my room. But he could argue it was signed under duress.’
A knowing smile spreads across Torin’s face. ‘Was it?’
‘There may have been some coercion,’ I say with a shrug.
‘All right, well, if he decides to argue its validity, then we overthrow him. We hold all the cards.’
More conflict. Just what the Isles don’t need. But in my heart I know this is where we’re heading. And though it won’t pain me one bit to rid us all of the King, I wonder how far Torin’s willing to go to be free of his father. Overthrowing him is one thing. But would Torin let me kill him if it came to it?
‘It’s funny,’ Torin says, nudging me with his elbow. ‘Of all the ways I imagined my wedding night, I didn’t think I’d spend it talking about my father.’
I smile. ‘Me neither. We have far more important things to do.’
‘Sleep,’ we say at the same time, and it feels good to laugh together, after the strain of the day.
Torin helps me undo the laces of my corset, but then averts his gaze while I slip out of my gown and exchange it for my shift. Once he’s in bed, I lie beside him and hold his hand.
‘It’s sad,’ he says, ‘that no one but us knows how momentous today actually was. East binding to West. The start of a new reign. Our reign.’
Something unpleasant stirs in my stomach. The reminder of my duty to the West is unwelcome. I can barely help the East.
‘We’re not the only ones,’ I say quietly. ‘Bronn and Sharpe know.’ Immediately I feel bad as pain flashes in Torin’s eyes.
‘They understand why we had to go through with today,’ he says.
I smile by way of apology, not wanting to infect him with my misery. Torin’s hopes for the future match my fears for the present, and it is why we need each other. Together we are balanced.
‘We can do this,’ he continues, squeezing my fingers. ‘We will do this.’
I lean forward and kiss his forehead. ‘I know.’
‘Good night, wife,’ he says, his eyes sparkling with affection.
‘Sweet dreams, husband.’
I watch with envy how quickly sleep claims him. Though exhaustion prickles through my bones, for a long time I just lie there, my head too crowded with thoughts. The air is thick in here, suffocating, and I feel the walls closing in on me. Leaving Torin alone in our marriage bed, I move to the window and push it open, desperate for air. It’s as if the night is crushing my chest and I cannot breathe. I have to get out of here. Without even bothering to dress, I wrap my cloak round my shift and slip my dagger back into my boot.
When I appear at the door, three surprised guards look up at me. I raise my hand for them to be quiet.
‘The Prince is asleep,’ I say, ignoring their suggestive glances. ‘I left some things in my old room and wish to retrieve them.’
‘Allow me to escort you.’ Braydon stands up, and then adds as an afterthought, ‘Your Highness.’
‘There’s no need; I can find my way.’
‘I insist.’
‘Very well, if you must.’
There is no concern in his offer, only mistrust.
We walk through the castle, the only light coming from the candle I hold. It’s quite a way to go to my room in the west tower, and all the while Braydon is several paces behind me, his eyes boring into my back.
When at last I reach my door, I turn to him. ‘I think I might stay here for the rest of the night. I don’t wish to disturb my husband. Thank you, Braydon.’