Werian gave them a nod. “I asked these three to escort you when you leave here.”
“Who are you?” She’d seen them around the palace, she was almost sure, but didn’t have any idea of their positions.
The shorter one spoke up with a voice like a bell. “I’m Eawynn. We were there when the Matchweaver showed up to your birth feast and betrothal. We altered the curse.”
One of the slim women, the second tallest, took out a folded bit of parchment. “And I am Gytha. We have been bound to you since then.” With fingers tattooed in thorn patterns, she opened the parchment to show a tiny clip of silver hair. “It’s yours. From the day of your birth feast.”
Aury touched the hair. “In what way did you alter the curse?”
The tallest woman removed her crushed velvet cloak and slung it around Aury’s frozen shoulders. The warmth was welcome. “I am Hilda. We made it so that if you did touch a spinning wheel,” she said, a smile ghosting across her prim lips, “you would only sleep forever instead of dying.”
The shorter one—Eawynn—grinned, her plump cheeks dimpling prettily. “Yes! And only your true love could wake you.”
Typical fae. The ones strong enough to twist a witch’s magic usually had eccentric thoughts on what was best in any given situation.
Werian hugged Aury then, and a tear slid from her eye. She wiped it quickly.
“Eawynn, Hilda, and Gytha,” Werian said, “have kept an eye on you since birth. They were told not to interfere unless your life was truly in danger. Now, they can aid you as you train.”
Hilda adjusted the cloak she’d given Aury, moving the clasp so that it held more tightly. “We will see that those who hurt you suffer. Not today. But someday. Don’t worry.”
“You are frightening.”
Hilda laughed. “Yes. I am fae.”
“But you seem so kind,” Aury said. “Unlike all the others.”
The cheery, plump Eawynn crossed her arms. “Only because you’re our charge.”
“I accept your offer to help. I’ll need it.” Aury hugged Werian one last time. “Thank you. For everything.”
“We are kindred spirits, you and I. More than you know.”
Gytha clasped her thorn-tattooed hands and gave Aury a sad smile.
“You’re still keeping things from me?” Aury asked Werian.
“I’ll tell you all about me,” he answered. “Someday. For now, you have enough secrets to feast on.”
Aury slapped his chest lightly and started to walk inside the palace. “I’ll drink to that.”
Chapter 4
Filip took a step backward. “I’m sorry. Did you just say I have a wife?” A slightly hysterical laugh escaped him.
Sorina pressed her lips into a line, and Mihai answered instead, smoothing his gray hair behind his pointed ears. “Yes, well, you will.”
“Huh. I would’ve thought I’d know a thing like that.”
Costel laughed but covered it with a cough.
Mihai exhaled sharply. “When you were a child, we brought you to Loreton Palace, and you were betrothed to Princess Aurora.”
“Princess who? The king and queen don’t have a daughter.”
Sorina stood and swept down the three stairs of the dais. She took Filip’s hands. Mother’s hands were always cool and soft despite the rough weather of their kingdom. “Aurora was hidden in the fae court until now. The Matchweaver wasn’t consulted in your match, and she cursed the princess.”
“I assume she survived since she is still set to be my bride? I think even King Athellore would stop at using his kin after death.”
Sorina almost smiled. “She is well, as this Lore messenger has told us.”
A richly robed man stood to the side of the dais. The man’s Loreton livery—a ruby red stag on a field of deep cerulean water—stretched over his ample belly, and Filip gritted his teeth. Spoiled humans and their vast stretches of hunting grounds and farmlands…
Filip tried to figure out how he felt about this development, but right now, everything in him was as numb as his arm had been after blocking Ivan’s blade.
“And the curse…” he started. How could he wed a woman from Lore? Her people hoarded their wealth and knew nothing of lean winters… She would never understand him, or the close friendships he’d built with Costel, Drago, and Stefan as they’d shivered by the fire in the palace, getting drunk on fruit brandy because the food had run out. He wouldn’t have to leave them, surely. His heart stilled, fear gripping him with lightning fingers. No, they would attend him as they always had.
Mihai coughed, then cleared his throat. The ague was coming on him like it always did at Frostlight. “The curse states that Aurora will prick her finger on a spinning wheel and die. The fae at the birth feast used their talents to fight the curse. They attempted to get rid of the curse entirely but could only lessen it. They settled for an eternal slumber rather than death.”
Filip rolled his eyes. Who would choose such a horrible fate? He’d rather die than lie on a bed motionless until time crumbled away his body and mind. “Fae,” he muttered, the word loaded with what he knew of them. They may have pointed ears like mountain elves, but they were so incredibly different with their odd fancies and chilly demeanor. He’d met a dozen or so over the years, members of the court who enjoyed a trip to the mountains during peacetime. Prince Werian wasn’t so bad.
“Since she is grown now, they believe the curse is no longer a threat,” Mihai said, joining them, studying Filip like he always did, like he didn’t understand what made Filip tick. They got along fine, but they were so different. Father acted slowly, and because of that, he missed many opportunities to expand the kingdom and make beneficial treaties. This betrothal would’ve been Mother’s idea. Queen Gwinnith’s pregnancy was just the sort of information Sorina gleaned from informants. She would’ve jumped at the chance to use the development to their kingdom’s benefit.
“Why did you think I would agree to this, and why haven’t you told me?”
“We thought the betrothal was voided after the curse,” Sorina said. “The king and queen led us to believe the union was not to be…for the safety of their daughter, which we can understand. But now, this messenger has told us the opportunity remains there for the taking.”
“What do we get in exchange for my lifetime of servitude?”
“It’s not like that, Son,” Mihai said. “After seeing her mother, she is most likely a beauty.” Sorina raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat, then glanced at the messenger. “You’ll live in a fine palace in a warm kingdom. What’s not to love?”
Sorina nodded. “And we will have all the farmland at the foothills in Lore.”
Filip jolted. “All of it?” He traded a look with Costel.
Both his parents smiled. “Yes,” Sorina whispered, her grin fading. “It’s a good thing. Our stores are nearly depleted. If the storms come as they did last early spring, our people will starve. We’re already rationing.”
“You are?”
Mihai motioned to a servant. The man brought a scroll and a small table. Mihai spread the scroll, which showed a map of the Kingdom of Lore. The palace—where they expected Filip to live at least half of the rest of his life—sat beside the powerful Silver River, a waterway that stretched across the land in all directions and gave life to Darkfleot, where the water mages trained for military action under the Order.