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guess-my-next-obsession · 10 months

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Starlight, Chapter One:

pairing: fae!ezra prospect x princess!oc (Marigold)

rating: M (series is 18+ only, arranged marriage, fantasy elements, talks of potential violence, vague and brief mentions of su!c!de, Ezra is a charmer and definitely written OOC to suit my fantasy needs but there are canon elements incorporated)

wc: 7k

series masterlist

I arrived in Nox, the land of eternal midnight, one week after climbing into my father’s gold-plated carriage.

The ride was long and grueling, my back and rear feeling the brunt of the effects of such a rough journey. But even in my soreness and desperation for my plush mattress back home and the smell of gardenia wafting in through my open windows, I refused to complain to my father’s guards for a break. In fact, I refused to utter a single word as we rolled through the snowy forest just north of Heims and just south of Nox. The darkness had already begun to creep upon us, so slowly I hadn’t even noticed until it was pitch black outside.

“Welcome to Nox, Princess,” one my father’s guards announced with a sly smirk, his eyes fixed on my profile as I pressed my face to the window of the carriage, my eyes wide and jaw slack as I watched the forest around us clear little by little until there was nothing but open, dark sky over top. “Amazing isn’t it?”

Whatever I had imagined stars to look like before that moment seemed insulting in comparison to its reality. Tiny little white, blue, and yellow dots of light shone like diamonds and crystals against the blue-black void around them, my heart aching in my chest at the simple beauty of it all.

“To your left is the moon,” the guard offered, drawing my attention to him for a split second before I was sliding across the carriage bench to peer out the other side. As soon as I looked up, I saw it.

It hung in the sky like a cosmic ornament, it’s gray so bland it should have bored me, but there was something about that round beacon of light that called to me. I couldn’t help the gasp that slipped past my lips as I looked to the tiny flecks of light beside it for only a split second before returning my attention to the main attraction. It seemed to calm my nerves the same way the sun did, just without the warmth.

Perhaps different didn’t always mean worse. Perhaps this new world around me—one of darkness and covered in a soft blanket of snow—would surprise me and kick dirt in the face of all of my fears.

I could only hope.

I couldn’t be certain of what time of day it was given the constant state of darkness around me, but as we rolled up to the front of the giant castle—it’s black stone and gothic design such a stark contrast from my home in Solis—I reasoned it must have been around dawn judging by the soldiers training in the east courtyard.

I watched the man supervising, his midnight blue tunic beneath a plate of black armor making him look like an imposing sight in contrast to the blanket of stark white beneath his feet. As I climbed out of the carriage with the help of one of my father’s guards, I locked eyes with the assumed-General across the hundred yards that separated us. He seemed to remember something, abruptly shouting a command at his soldiers to finish their training without him before turning on his heels to head towards the side of the castle.

I shivered at the authority in his voice, in the quickness in which he strode across the field. As if it were mere feet instead of hundreds of them.

“Welcome, Princess Marigold,” a sentry standing in front of the dark stone doors called down the brick stairs separating us, drawing my attention away from the soldiers who carried on as though the General’s eyes were still upon them.

What cruel punishments had they experienced at his hand for refusing to follow his commands?

“The King is eagerly awaiting your presence,” the sentry carried on, his eyes glancing at the guards behind me. “I’m afraid your men will have to bid you farewell here.”

I turned to the men who I’d known since I was a child, but whose names I hadn’t the slightest idea of. Still, they were people of Solis. The last I’d see for…ever, possibly.

I gave the men a bow of my head, not trusting my voice to remain strong as I wished them farewell, in turn wishing my old life farewell, too. All I could manage was, “Thank you.”

“Come, Princess,” the sentry called, growing impatient with my goodbyes, or perhaps he was just anxious over what might happen to both of us if I were to keep the King waiting too long.

The thought alone was enough to set my feet in motion.

After being led through the large entrance hall, the walls a bleak pewter stone that matched the ceiling and floor, I was led into the large throne room where the King sat waiting on his black, imposing throne upon an equally imposing dais. I took him in, his black hair perfectly quaffed, his stone gray eyes piercing me from yards away. His bone structure was impossibly sharp and symmetrical, and I couldn't help but wonder how someone so beautiful could possibly exist without the help of magic.

How stunning must his parents have been to create such a handsome, broad, masculine looking man?

I tore my eyes from him to save myself golden skin from turning pink, my focus fixing on his left.

There was a smaller, more feminine looking throne beside him that sat empty except for a midnight blue velvet pillow and a diamond crown that looked as if it was made from some of those tiny flecks in the sky.

This was to be my future seat, my crown. My stomach turned at the thought until my eyes focused on the person standing to the right of the King.

There, beside my soon-to-be husband, stood the General. With light brown skin, dark chocolate eyes, and a blonde streak in his dark, wavy head of hair, he was alarmingly handsome, even in comparison to the impossible beauty of King Kaius. But there was something other about him, something unlike myself or any person I’d ever met. I couldn’t quite tell what his position was amongst the ranks here, General or advisor, but judging by his armor and the blade he wore at his side, I decided I didn’t want to risk pissing him off to find out.

As if he could sense my curiosity, his brown eyes glowed amber and a bouquet of Marigolds appeared in his hand only to be given over to the King. Magic? He…

Fae.

My father liked to tell me frightening stories when I was a girl about a time in his own youth where the Fae ruled over the mortal lands. He told me of their cunning, their silver tongues, and most importantly, their wicked magic that had the power to wipe out entire kingdoms.

But after the revolution, a bloody war waged against the Fae in which Kaius’ bloodline and my own defeated them and ascended to their respective thrones, the fae were largely driven elsewhere. They fled overseas, in an unnamed land no mortal dared to even think about, let alone attempt to visit. And as far as my father was concerned, that was the end of their story.

But now…now I could see just how little he knew about anything.

Suddenly, I felt whatever hope I carried that perhaps my fate—my new life—wouldn’t be as awful as I imagined dying out like the last ember in a pile of ash.

A new world. A stranger as my husband. A faerie as his….

“Princess Marigold,” the sentry bellowed into the chamber, his voice echoing against the walls. “You have the honor of standing in the presence of King of Nox, and the King’s Hand.”

The King’s Hand. My new King—my future husband—had enlisted the council of a faerie? The species that attempted to enslave my own?

The ember fighting to stay alive inside of me died completely.

“I do hope your journey was smooth,” Kaius said, throwing the flowers at the sentry standing beside me, the petals half-crushed by the time the bouquet was in my shaking hands. His voice was velvet smooth, as if it were made of the same darkness and night outside of these walls. He cracked a smile at my quietness. “For what it’s worth, you look wonderful. Far lovelier than your father let on.”

I forced myself to reply. “Thank you, my King.”

He seemed to approve of the use of the title, his head nodding subtly.

“I will have my Hand show you to your quarters,” he announced, snapping his finger before waving it in my direction.

His arrogance was odorous. I couldn’t bear to be in his presence for another moment, and yet…

“Surely you have a handmaid—“

“There are no women on the grounds,” he announced, indifference bordering on agitation in his tone. “Until now, that is.”

No women, no…

Who was to help me bathe? If I were to fall pregnant, who would help me give birth?

I could have fainted there in the center of that too-large throne room if it hadn’t been for a sudden calm that washed over me when the King’s Hand stepped closer, his eyes glowing again.

“Please, allow me, Princess,” he bowed, holding out his bent arm to me. I accepted it only to repay him for whatever magic he worked on me to save myself from the embarrassment of passing out.

“There will be a ball this evening to welcome you to your new home,” Kaius called after us. “Please see to it that she bathes. I can smell her from here.”

Well, I suppose he said I looked wonderful—not that I smelled that way.

“You smell fine,” the Hand assured quietly as we exited the chamber. I didn’t miss the glare he shot over his shoulder at the King or the icy warning in it. Bold, even for a Fae.

His eyes caught mine as he turned forward again, witnessing the way my eyes narrowed at the sight of him. Of what I remembered from my father’s stories.

“I am not a monster and I am not out to kill you, Princess,” he assured with a slight smirk. I couldn’t explain why, but I could feel the centuries it must have taken for him to master such a look. Dangerous and not, all at the same time.

“Can you read my thoughts?” I snapped, suddenly conscious of his power.

“No,” he said, calm and amused. “Only your feelings, Your Highness. ”

“Well, stop,” I said, turning my eyes away from his as he led me up a grand, winding staircase made of the same dark brick the rest of the castle was built from.

“It isn’t something within my control,” he said. “But I’ll stop intruding.”

I nodded and tried to will a cold, hard exterior to mask my softness. I couldn’t begin to imagine what these people, cruel and calculated, would do with it.

After a beat of silence, I found myself speaking again.

“Why—“ I started, but quickly gained control of myself. I had no idea what this fae was capable of, let alone his motives. He quirked an eyebrow at me, his eyes scanning my face as he silently assessed me.

“I told you,” he spoke cautiously, as if he were talking to a wild beast he feared but desperately needed to tame. “You needn’t be afraid of me, Princess. Ask your question. I can feel the way it’s eating you up inside.”

I ignored the way his voice fell into something lower, something far too intimate for my taste.

“Why would the King appoint a fae as his Hand?” I asked against better judgment. He smiled slightly at me as we paused at the top of the stairs, his hand raising to halt the guards that I wasn’t even aware were trailing us. The men obeyed, stopping at the bottom of the stairs while he led me down another long, dark hallway.

“The King does many things I do not understand,” he said, his voice a trained whisper. “My existence is bound to his. He saved my life—“ The Hand held up his right hand, or more accurately, the ornate, solid gold prosthetic in its place. I wondered if he could feel my shock, but if he had, it didn’t show. “So, here I am.”

I ignored the urge to question him further on that specific subject. Perhaps another time.

“Do you enjoy it? Being here?” He must’ve been able to sense me feeling him out, that flicker of a smile vanishing into thin air.

“Not often,” he replied. At least he told the truth. “I find Court in all its pomp and frill to be incredibly isolating. But, on the other hand, it provides. I am free—to an extent. Just as you’ll be.”

“To an extent,” I repeated with a scoff. “Why are there no women around?”

“There are, just not in the castle. The rest of our court prefers their own manors to living on the grounds,” he said, turning another sharp corner. “And as for your personal servants, I’m meeting with potential handmaids this afternoon. If you’d like, you can come along and select them for yourself.”

“Yes, that would be…fine,” I said. “You’re awfully…friendly. For a Hand. I expect you’re taking note of every single thing I say to report back to the King.”

“I’m not taking any more note of you than you are of me,” he winked, unlocking a chamber that felt cold even with the two large, stone doors closed. “If you expect that I am a spy sent to observe and report, I must disappoint you.”

“What are you then? An ally?” I asked, quirking a brow at him.

I couldn’t help but feel torn between the image of a faerie that my father had painted for me—the very same father that cruelly sent me to this dark, awful, cold place—and the picture in front of me of an honest, warm man.

“I could be a friend,” he said. “But at the very least, I am here to make your life easier. Whatever you need, send for me and I will do everything in my power to make it happen.”

“I always thought it would be my husband doting on me like that,” I joked, shaking my head at the childish imagining. “Speaking of. What is he like? What might I expect? Is he a romantic? A brute?”

The Hand seemed to think hard for a moment. I could see him retreating into his own mind, as if it were a real place and not just something inside of him. When he came back to the moment, I suspected he’d have masterfully worded his response to avoid any missteps.

How long had it taken to learn such a skill?

“The King is what he is. He can be a very good man, and he can be…a very good King. I have a feeling you understand the need for the distinction,” he said, his eyes scanning my face again. “I wouldn’t pry. He’s generally better left to himself and his own doings.”

“I’m perfectly fine with keeping my distance,” I returned, rolling my eyes at the reality of my new life before gesturing at the door. “Well, if this is to be the start of my prison sentence, don’t let me delay you any longer.”

“Your Highness,” he sighed, leveling his eyes with mine in a way that no one ever had, as if he were talking to an equal. “This place is only a prison if you let it be. There’s plenty to see, to do, to busy yourself with. Don’t lock yourself away and let this grief eat you whole.” His eyes softened as they combed over my face. I wondered how pitiful I must’ve looked to earn such a stare. “Friend or ally, it is my pleasure to serve you, Princess.”

I didn’t say anything, only giving him a single nod before entering my chamber and closing the door.

In between quick, panicked breaths, I surveyed the suite around me. It looked nothing like my chamber back at home.

It was an absurdly large, two-story suite fit for a Queen—though, I remembered it made sense given that I would be one soon enough. On the first floor, there was the foyer I stood in, its dark stone walls, matching charcoal curtains, and velvet black furnishing reminding me of a very posh dungeon. Beyond a set of black, paneled ,double-doors was a less intimidating sitting room with a black-brick hearth that reached up to the high ceiling. On either side of the sitting room sat a dining room and a study that matched the current gothic aesthetic. I only briefly scanned the wall-to-wall bookshelves in my new study before venturing upstairs to my main chamber, a large dressing and bathing suite attached on either side.

I couldn’t stop my throat from swelling as I took in my new surroundings. This was nothing like home to me.

Instead of the sheer yellow curtains that flowed in the open breeze in my old bedroom, there were dark blue velvet curtains drawn over the large floor-to-ceiling windows to keep out the cold. Instead of my white linen comforter and canopy bed, there only sat a large, gothic style four-poster bed with a velvet, onyx-colored blanket tucked in neatly.

There was no lightness in this castle, but I foolishly expected that perhaps my room would, at least, be an inviting space for me to lock myself away in, as the Hand said.

Perhaps he could remedy the decor and furnishings for me if I asked nicely.

I ignored the idea and headed into the large bathing room on the right side of my bedroom, its giant windows overlooking the snowy grounds of the castle. At least this room seemed to hold some beauty.

Between the large windows showcasing the dark winter wonderland outside, the stars I was only just becoming familiar with shining so brightly overhead, and the giant pool in place of a normal bathtub, I couldn’t find myself to hate this space. This, for now, would be my haven.

Shedding my overcoat, I suddenly realized that no bath had been drawn for me, and seeing as how I had never drawn my own or watched it be done—what a clueless and pampered girl—I started to panic.

What would the punishment be if I showed up to the ball still smelling of my travels?

I didn’t have a minute to consider it before the pool started to fill with steaming water, the room scented with ylang ylang and gardenia.

The Hand’s doing, no doubt.

I sighed away the rest of the shiver I still had from being outside, and stripped down to nothing before stepping into the perfectly hot water, every ache in my body fading instantly.

So, this was to be my life. I’d tend to my husband’s urges, attend gatherings, and sit here in this bathtub trying to convince myself not to throw myself through the window.

A fitting punishment for the least loved daughter of five.

After a long struggle of trying and failing to fashion my corset by myself—I wasn’t going to ask The King’s Hand to help me into my dress, even if I was entirely certain he’d agree—I opted for a looser gown that buttoned at the front of the bodice.

Though I wasn’t used to this darker, cooler color palette, I couldn’t help but admire the fine fabrics filling my armoire. The one I’d chosen for this afternoon—if you could call it that—was made of the smoothest silk I’d ever touched, even smoother than the luxurious fabrics my sister came back from Florere with during her last visit. Its color was just as dark as the night sky around me. On the shoulders, there were beaded black rosettes that sparkled even in the dull light coming in through the window. Covering my arms was a sheer black mesh that glittered as if it was made of starlight. I couldn’t find a reason to fault it.

A knock at the stone door on the lower level of my suite tore me away from the full length mirror in my dressing room. I slowly made my way down the stone staircase to the foyer, my heart racing with fear at the thought of Kaius waiting behind the door instead of a sentry or The Hand.

I wasn’t sure what that told me about my future marriage, but I could only assume it wasn’t a promising start.

Thankfully, I was only met with the sight of The Hand, his smile turning into something more indulgent as he took in the sight of me in my new gown.

“A lovely choice for this afternoon, Princess,” he said, finally meeting my eyes. “The violet brings out the brown in your eyes.”

I didn’t know what to say or if I wanted to accept the compliment. Still, it was smart to be polite.

“Thank you,” I managed. “Shall we go?”

He let out a breath of a chuckle and nodded, holding his arm out for me.

“Is that necessary?” I asked, staring at him and his arm that remained held out for me.

“Does my chivalry bother you?” he teased, lifting an eyebrow as I continued staring blankly at him until he finally let his arm fall to his side. “I was under the impression Princesses enjoyed good manners.”

It took everything in me not to scoff in his face.

“I enjoy good manners that don’t involve me hanging on the arm of a man I do not know, all to be seen as a trophy—a prize that you’d do well to remember is not yours,” I snapped, some of that Solis heat boiling in my veins. He only looked pleased by my response.

“You are certainly not what I imagined,” he said, shaking his head at me with that stupid smile on his face. “That’s not to say I’m disappointed.”

“I don’t suppose it matters whether or not I am what you imagined, does it?” I returned.

“I suppose,” he agreed before waving his hand down the hallway. “Shall we?”

“I suppose,” I echoed, my voice sharp with irritation.

We made our way from the east wing of the castle to the main reception room on the first floor in mutually agreed upon silence. I didn’t want to hear any more of his quips nor did I imagine he wanted to hear any more of my snide retorts. And instead of conversation, I busied myself with mapping out the castle.

If I were going to spend the rest of my days here, I thought it best to get well acquainted with my surroundings, but it seemed the castle was built purposefully to confuse its residents. With all the dark stone and torchlight, I couldn’t tell which way was where. The only markers were the staircases, each one fashioned with a slightly different shade of charcoal to distinguish their location.

I quickly made a mental note to establish my bearings based on this knowledge later.

As we entered the reception room, I took note of the guards posted along the walls and at every entrance and exit. It must have looked terrifying to the sixteen women who stood in a neat line in front of a smaller dais than the one in the throne room. It looked terrifying to me, and I was here as the future Queen Consort.

“Introducing The King’s Hand and the future Queen, Princess Marigold!”

I hoped there would be a way to convince Kaius to cut this bellowing out of my entrances. It seemed ridiculous to have a sentry squawk out my name every time I entered a room, especially once I became Queen and everyone knew who I was.

“Your choice, Princess,” he said, gesturing at the two chairs on the dais. I wondered if there was any significance in him offering me to choose my seat, but decided that if there was, I wouldn’t bother searching for it. I sat down in the seat on the right and nearly gasped at the plushness of the throne.

Was everything here made this well?

“Thank you all for coming,” he began, his voice more commanding than it had been just a second ago when he was speaking to me. “I do ask that in the future, you bow in the presence of your new Queen.”

I wanted to slap him for speaking for me. I didn’t think these women should have to bow before anyone considering half of them were old enough to be my grandmother.

“Your new Queen asks that you do not bow to me unless you feel called to do so,” I cut in, surprising The Hand as he opened his mouth to speak again. “Bowing only means anything if it’s done with the right heart.”

He seemed to find my outburst intriguing, or perhaps infuriating given the way his jaw tightened as he turned from me back to the women.

“As the Princess wishes,” he managed. Pointing at the first woman in the line up, he spoke again. “Come.”

“Must you be so demanding,” I whispered to him, earning only a glance in my direction.

A young looking girl approached the dais, her pale skin and tangled white-blonde hair bringing a soft frown to my face.

“What is your name?”

“Drusilla, Your Highness,” she said, bowing low enough to sweep the floor.

“Age?”

“Sixteen.”

Gods. She was hardly more than a child. Even I still felt like one and I was a decade older.

“She’s a child,” I whispered, appalled that his people would even bring her before me.

She’s an orphan.

I heard his voice in my head as clear as if he had spoken right in my ear. I contained my gasp as he turned to me for a moment, his eyes still glowing.

It was either offering servitude or leaving her to starve.

I swallowed the lump in my throat at his show of power and nodded, turning to the girl.

“Have you any training? Any expertise?” I asked, hoping that the softness in my voice could quell some of her trembling fear as she fought not to look me in the eye.

“No, Your Highness,” she said, her voice weak and frail as her frame. She looked near death, as if it was a miracle she was still standing.

“Drusilla,” I called, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “Have you eaten today?”

She shook her head. I didn’t think she’d eaten in a week judging by her frailness.

I turned to The Hand and nodded, hoping he understood me even if I couldn’t get in his head like he did mine.

“Take her to eat then show her to her quarters,” he commanded. I watched as not a second passed before the sentries were doing as they were told. “If any one of you attempts to lay a hand on her…”. His power surged around us enough to darken the already dreary room. “You lose that hand. And that is only a taste of what else might be lost if anyone disobeys my command.”

The men bowed, silently pledging their honor, before leaving the room with a still trembling Drusilla. I made a mental note to visit her as soon as I could to try and calm some of her fears the way my elder sister did with me during my departure.

“Are all Hands this powerful?” I asked, lacing my voice with mockery to disguise my intimidation.

The Hand didn’t answer.

“Next,” he demanded, waving at the second woman in line.

She was older than the rest of the candidates by far, though I had no clue of how old she was exactly. I took in her raven black hair, the lines etched on her sickly pale, almost gray skin, and finally met the endless black void of her eyes. I knew at the first glance that something was off about her. Something I didn’t want near me.

“Your name,” he inquired. The older woman grinned widely enough to bare her rotted teeth, forcing my stomach to flip with both fear and disgust.

“I have no name,” she replied, her voice shrill and scratchy like claws raking over stone.

I’d only ever met one of the Cursed—a wicked group of witches that dabbled only in the dark side of magic--before, after she was brought before my father to be tried. That witch looked slightly younger and more refreshed than the one in front of me, but there was no mistaking their identical set of onyx eyes.

“You’re one of the Cursed,” I accused, shocking myself along with the rest of the room. The Hand whipped his attention towards me for a moment before turning back to the woman at my feet.

He took a few moments to inspect her using some sort of magic, at least judging by the way his eyes seemed to glow that shade of gilded bronze again. Whatever he must have discovered, it was enough to force his face into a stern scowl as his eyes faded back to their normal dark brown.

“Do you deny practicing the dark arts?” he asked through clenched teeth, his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his dagger. “High Priestess?”

The wicked old woman grinned at the use of her title.

“Do you?” she purred, her wicked tongue laced with venom. “You’ve got more darkness in you than me and all my sisters combined.”

“Take her away,” he ordered. Six guards surrounded the witch and seized her, though she certainly didn’t make it easy with all her hissing and thrashing about. “Lock her in the Dark Cell. Since she loves the darkness so much.”

“Hypocrite!” she screamed, shrieking like a witch. “What a foul hypocrite of a Faerie! The darkness will come for you too!”

“What is she—“

“Have the witch taken to the dungeon before I cut her head off and have it mounted in the throne room,” he ordered, leaving no room for questioning in the harshness of his voice. As the guards carried the still-shrieking witch away, I stared at him with wide eyes, fearing the glimpse of darkness—the same darkness the witch accused him of harboring inside—I just saw in his eyes. Sensing my frightened stare, he softened himself with a sigh and turned to me. “I apologize, Princess. Clearly my men are not as trained to spot evil as you seem to be.”

I couldn’t stop looking at him. I wanted to tear his mind apart and lay its contents out on a table to carefully study one by one. He seemed entirely unreadable.

“I’d like to go back to my chamber,” I whispered, voice small with fear. “Please.”

Studying me for a moment with what looked to be concern mixed with guilt, he nodded, turning back to the guards waiting behind the remaining women who stood trembling with fear.

“Take the rest away,” he ordered with a wave of his hand. He waited until there was not a single soul in the room before turning back to me. “I apologize if the witch’s outburst frightened you. I can assure you, it is rare that one of the Cursed gathers the courage to make an appearance, and even rarer that they cause any harm. They’re simply old Crones who like to waste away worshiping at the feet of Death.”

“She said that you…have darkness in you, too,” I replied, my voice hardly above a whisper as I tracked his every move. Hesighed, lifting a hand to rub over the coarse hair covering his chin.

“Yes,” he admitted, though it looked as though it pained him to do so. “All Fae carry both light and dark inside of them. We are made of it. Not equal parts, necessarily.”

“So you’re made up of…more darkness than light?”

“She seems to think so,” he said, dropping his eyes to my lips before bringing them back to mine. “What do you think? Do you see any resemblance between me and that old witch?”

“Not physically, no,” I let out a huff of amusement.

“And how about the way I make you feel?” he asked, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was fighting off a smirk. “You knew the moment you saw her for what she was. Yet, you have yet to hurl an accusation like that at me.”

“Would you like me to?” I asked, finally earning a laugh from him. I found myself smiling, too. It seemed The Hand had a knack for putting me at ease.

“Would you still like to return to your chambers?” he asked, standing up and walking over to where I remained sitting.

“Yes, I think some rest will do me well,” I said, standing up with the help of his hand. “It’s been an exciting morning.”

“I believe this evening will be just as eventful given that this court hasn’t seen a new member in years,” he said, walking with me down the steps of the dais before leading us out into the corridor. “A word of caution, if I may.”

“You may,” I said, glancing over at him just to admire the way the torchlight lit up his face. A face I had no business admiring.

“Don’t let yourself be alone with anyone at the ball, Marigold,” he said, meeting my eyes as we walked. “They’ll either try to seduce you, exploit you, or kill you.”

“Gods,” I choked, shaking my head. “Court in Solis was so boring compared to this. The only torture to be found there was having to listen to my father’s speeches.”

The Hand chuckled. “Kaius isn’t much of a public speaker, so at least you’re clear on that front.”

“When am I to officially marry him?” I asked, that fearsome pit in my stomach growing at the mere thought of marrying a man I didn’t know.

“Tonight,” he said, sympathy filling his eyes as he watched me shudder. “If…if you’re comfortable, I can ease some of your fear.”

“No amount of kind words—“

“I meant with my magic,” he smiled. “I can take it away for a while. Help with the nausea.”

I sighed. I shouldn’t have to need magic in order to not be sickened by my fate.

“What if I were to accidentally trip down a staircase? Fall from a ledge?” I joked. Mostly.

He clearly found no amusement in it as he stopped us abruptly, his eyes boring into mine.

“Please try not to make those kinds of jokes,” he said, his tone both stern and gentle. “Kaius’s mother…she—“

“Oh, Gods,” I gasped, covering my mouth as my heart dropped into my gut. “I am—Gods, I had no idea.”

“Kaius would be very quick to…react if you said anything like that around him,” he warned, making my skin pimple as I thought about the ways Kaius could possibly react. I didn’t want to find out. “So, please try to save your dark humor just for me.”

I ignored the idea of saving anything “just for him” and continued walking, feeling his presence looming behind me in thick but not unwelcome silence.

“How are you liking your suite?” he asked as we neared my chamber.

“It’s…dark,” I replied, unsure of whether or not he’d take offense given that he, apparently, was dark, too. “But I do love the bathing room and its windows.”

“I thought you might,” he said, a content sound to his voice.

“How?” I wondered if perhaps he’d done some spying on me before I came, either with or without my father’s knowledge. Though, it made sense that the King’s Hand would want to know what kind of person they were getting for their new Queen Consort.

“Not you, specifically,” he assured, turning to me as we stood in front of the giant stone door to my suite. “I just figured that whoever ended up here would enjoy a good view of their new environment without having to…interact with anyone. Though, there are certainly better views of the stars elsewhere on the grounds.”

“Like where?” I asked, more out of politeness than anything else.

“There’s a conservatory in the East Wing with a library,” he said, his voice soft with reverence. “The roof is made of glass, so there are no obstructions. Just the stars.”

“You sound quite fond of it, I wouldn’t want to steal your hiding place,” I joked, finding it oddly easy to do with him even with all my distrust.

“I’ve been too busy to spend any time there in a while, so feel free to borrow it. Or steal it. Whichever pleases Your Highness,” he smiled, something hinting and playful in it that made my chest buzz the way it did with my first childhood crush.

“I’ll consider it,” I said, biting back a smile before gesturing at my door. “I should rest.”

He nodded, reaching for the steel handle and pressing the door open. “Would you like me to ensure you get a peaceful rest?”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Is that a threat?”

“With magic, I mean,” he chuckled.

“How does it work?” I tilted my head, studying his irises. How was it possible for them to look so ordinary most of the time only to…

His irises turned golden again, his stare unwavering and focused. “I essentially convince your mind that you are at peace, content. Your body reacts to the signals, and it washes away the effects of all of those nasty worries and fears.”

A wave of calm washed over me, just like it had earlier in the throne room when I nearly vomited out of sheer nerves.

“Do most people here know that you…can do this? Can read their emotions?”

“No,” he said, those glowing eyes fading into something far less supernatural. “Just Kaius, my generals, a few trusted members at court, and…you.”

“Can all Fae do this?”

“Magic, yes. Sensing emotions, no.”

I nodded, suddenly feeling so content that I considered curling up right there on the cold stone floor of my doorway.

“Rest,” he ordered softly, his voice a whisper. “I’ll send your new handmaid to you an hour before the ball.”

“You’re only giving me an hour to get ready for my wedding?” I asked, giving him a half-smile as I crossed my arms around my body, already trying to get cozy.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I nodded and he smiled. “You could show up in a burlap sack with your hair in tangles and still be the most beautiful person in the room.”

“I doubt that,” I chuckled, fighting a blush from appearing on my olive cheeks.

“I mean it,” he insisted with an amused grin. “Our court is a dark, dreary gray, and you are…a golden ray of light. They won’t know what to do with themselves when they get a look at you.”

“Is it custom for the Hand to spoil their guest with so many kind words?” I teased.

“Not a guest, no. But for my future Queen?” His eyes danced across my features, the sight clearly pleasing him as his smile spread even wider. “My Queen might do well with getting used to being spoiled.”

“Are you going to refer to me as that after tonight?” I asked, the heaviness of my eyelids causing them to bat in a way that likely sent the wrong message. Or perhaps it sent the right one given the way my chest still buzzed with excitement. “My Queen?”

“It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” His voice had lowered in a way that made me feel dizzy and drunk, my feet stepping closer by sheer instinct. His head bowed from our height difference as he kept his eyes locked on mine. “But it is quite boring. I’ll have to think up something more fitting.”

“And what do I call you, Your Highness?” I purred, suddenly finding it hard to stop myself from closing the foot of distance between us.

“Ezra,” he replied, low and warm and much too intimate.

My breathing halted as he lifted his hand up as though he were about to cup the side of my face with it, but he stopped himself, letting it fall back to his side.

“Sleep well, Your Highness,” he murmured, bowing just enough for me to realize it before he vanished into thin air, leaving a waft of his scent--smoke, moss, cedar, and some spice I couldn’t name--in his wake. I kept myself from fainting by dragging my feet into my chamber and slamming the door shut.

Was I truly allowing myself to develop a crush on not only my soon-to-be husband’s second in command, but a Fae? The scary monster from all my father’s bedtime stories?

But he didn’t feel like a monster. He felt like a friend, or at the very least, someone from back home. I couldn’t help but gauge people based on what my mother would have thought of them. When she didn’t like someone, she never let it show. Instead, she’d give me knowing glances during conversation, each widening or narrowing of her caramel eyes telling me exactly what she refrained from saying.

How dull.

What a narcissist.

He’s so stuffy he makes your father look humble.

I couldn’t imagine her speaking to Ezra and finding him boring, or vain, or snobbish. The only glances I’d receive would be ones that told a different story.

Look at those eyes.

He’s annoyingly considerate.

Now this, Mari, is a man.

But it didn’t matter what my dead mother thought of him, or even what I think. Kaius could have both of our heads on spikes if he found out and became jealous. I’d learn exactly how he’d react when provoked, and I had no interest in that sort of pain. I wanted peace, even in my prison sentence. I’d keep Ezra as a friend, and nothing more.

For as long as I could bare it.

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