The prince walks to the door, but he pauses before he steps out. “Why did you ask about your marriage?”
“I’ve decided to marry Edwin,” I say, drawing in a shaky breath as I attempt to compose myself.
I should have listened to the fairy. This turmoil I’m in is partially my fault because I refused to heed her words. At least now, I can right that wrong.
My heart might be shattered, but I will save my kingdom.
“I could request to have the marriage annulled,” I continue, “but it will be easier if we simply pretend it didn’t happen. It wasn’t real—Rhys himself told me several times. It was a contract on paper alone, void now due to the sheer fact that he lied about his identity. We’ll burn the contract, and you’ll forget you were there. It’s as easy as that.”
“Amalia,” Tryndon says, stepping toward me. “You can’t.”
“Can’t I?” I say with a bitter laugh. “Isn’t that why you brought me here? Isn’t that what your king wants?”
“I’m sorry we hurt you,” he says quietly. “So truly sorry.”
“Go.”
He stares at me for several seconds, looking as if he wants to say something else—or rather, argue with me about why I should forgive Rhys.
Wisely, he relents. With a sigh, he says, “I’ll arrange a meeting with your brother.”
Then he leaves, and I’m alone once more.
3
“You’re in a world of trouble,” Tryndon says when he finds me atop the battlements.
I stare across the city, wishing it were dark so I could fight something—anything. I finally understand Morgan’s need for conflict. It’s an outlet, a way to dispel his anger and pain.
“Amalia asked me to pretend I didn’t stand as a witness for your marriage,” he continues. “She plans to marry Edwin.”
I whip my head toward him. “She spoke with you?”
My brother flashes me a cocky smile. “Not only did she speak with me, but she also requested an audience. In her quarters. Alone.”
I grasp hold of his collar and push him against the stone, but that only makes his grin grow.
“Are you going to throw me off the battlement, Rhys? Do you think that will make you feel better?”
With a growl, I release him and shove him away from me. “How…” I close my eyes for a moment, hating him because he’ll have an answer. “How did she look?”
“Captivating,” Tryndon answers flippantly. “She’s wearing this gown that—”
“Do you want to die?” I demand.
He laughs, taking great amusement in my turmoil. “She looks awful, Rhys. What do you expect? She couldn’t even say your name without crying. I was only with her for five minutes, and now I hate you.”
“Do you think she’ll see me?”
“No.” He shakes his head as if it’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever said. “You walk in that door, and I guarantee she’ll stab you with one of the daggers you gave her. I’ve never seen a woman so angry.”
I run my hands through my hair, clasping the short strands. I imagined Amalia discovering my lies a thousand different ways, but never like this. I should have told her myself—what a wretched fool I was to put it off so long.
“What do you mean, she plans to marry Edwin?” I say suddenly, finally registering his words.
Tryndon snorts. “That took you long enough.”
“She’s my wife.”
“Yes, well, it’s clear she no longer wishes to be—wait, where are you going?”
I jog down the steps. “I’m going to risk getting stabbed.”
Devin eyes me as I stride down the hall, looking as if he knows he’s about to have a very bad day. “Your Highness, I’m sorry, but Edwin said that no one may enter without the princess’s permission—”
I draw my sword and extend it toward the guard, not in the mood. “Step aside, Devin.”
“Rhys,” he growls, dropping the formalities. “Why must you and your sister make everything difficult?”
I flash my childhood friend a sharp look. “Speaking of that, what trouble did you let Cassia get up to while I was gone?”
He rolls his eyes. “Believe me, I tried—”
“Later,” I say, brushing him aside.
I push open the door, not bothering to knock. It’s not as if Amalia would invite me in anyway.
The princess glances over from her seat in front of the window, startled by the rude intrusion. She looks as if she’s about to say something scathing, but then her expression goes slack. She stares at me, and her lips part with surprise.
“Rhys,” she finally manages.
I toss the door closed behind me and stride across the room, stopping just before I reach her. Her maid stands in the corner, frozen.
“Excuse us,” I tell her briskly.
Without question, she hurries from the room.
As soon as we’re alone, I turn to Amalia. “I have given you space these last few days to let you seethe in peace, but enough is enough. I know you’re upset—and you have every right to be—but what is this nonsense about you marrying Edwin? You’re already married to me.”
After her initial surprise, the princess shields her expression, donning something cold, distant, and so unlike herself, it’s painful to see.
Despite that, Tryndon was right—she looks beautiful.
No longer forced to wander the kingdoms like a peasant, Amalia looks like a different woman. She’s exchanged her travel-worn, torn-and-ripped dresses for a gown in the palest of pink. It tapers in at her trim waist, complementing her figure. The long, gossamer sleeves are attached to the fitted bodice so they fall off the princess’s shoulders, revealing an expanse of soft skin that would make a man’s thoughts wander. But that’s not where my mind goes now—I’m struck by how fragile she looks, how breakable.
How did this woman cross the Chasm? How did she kill the monster on the ship?
“What are you doing here, Rhys?” Amalia asks too calmly. “You’ve done your part to get me into Draegan—and congratulations on a job well done. Isn’t your task finished? Shouldn’t you be off celebrating?”
Tryndon was right—Amalia is out for blood. But the princess’s blade of choice is made of words and not steel.
“Amalia, I…”
What do I say? Where do I begin?
She looks as though she wants to dismiss me, but unable to help herself, she crosses her arms. “You what?”
There is only one thing I can do—something I should have done weeks ago.
I meet her gaze briefly before I lower myself and kneel in front of her. “You now know my secret, the burden I have carried since we met in the orchard. But let me confess. You deserve to hear it from me, even if it’s far too late.”
I take her silence as permission to continue.
“I’m not a knight of your kingdom, but the second-born prince of Draegan. I came to Renove with the sole purpose of bringing you across the Chasm to marry Edwin. My father had plans to claim your throne through his son and deliver our people to a safe land.”