Chapter 3 I Refuse

Damian stood at the foot of the stairs with his hand out, waiting.

The whole city waited with him.

In my first life, this was the moment I said yes. I was eighteen, scared, and alone. A powerless girl does not get many offers, and he was handsome and kind in front of people. I put my hand in his, and my own grave started right there.

I looked at his hand and did not move.

"Mira," he said gently, smiling for the crowd. "Come. Let us leave this noise behind."

"Noise?" I said. "You mean the crystal that just broke?"

A few people laughed. His smile became thinner.

Before I could speak again, my father pushed through the crowd. Lord Edmund Calder was a weak man who always looked for the strongest person in the room and stood behind him.

"Mira, my child," he said, a little too loud. "Lord Damian has been so patient. The contract was signed when you were a baby. Today you showed your power, and now it is time to honor our word."

Contract. Yes. I had been waiting for that word.

"Father," I said softly. "Did you sign it, or did you sell me?"

His face turned red. "Do not speak like that in front of everyone."

"Why not? Everyone is already looking."

Lady Corinne rose from her seat. She was smiling, but her hands were shaking. She had just watched her daughter's silver light die, and she knew something was wrong.

"Darling," she said, "you are tired and confused. Come home. We will talk there."

Home. Where the tea waits. Where the sealing ritual waits.

"No, Mother," I said. "I think we will talk here."

I walked down the stairs slowly. Damian's eyes followed me. Up close, I could see a small muscle moving in his jaw. He was angry. He hid it well, but I knew his face better than he knew it himself. I had looked at it for five long years.

"Lord Damian," I said. "Do you have the contract with you?"

He blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"The betrothal contract. The one between House Calder and House Hale. I would like to read it."

My father stammered, "Mira, that is not necessary."

"Then it will be quick."

Damian looked at the priest, then at the crowd, then back at me. He could not say no. Too many eyes. After a moment he took a rolled paper out of his coat, a thick old scroll with two red seals. Of course he carried it. Men like Damian always carry what they want to use.

He gave it to me. His fingers touched mine for one second, and my skin crawled. I did not show it.

I opened the scroll. Long lines of old writing filled the page. Most of it was boring, about land, money, and dowry. My eyes went straight to the bottom, to a small line near the second seal, written so tiny and so pale that nobody ever read it.

I knew where it was because I had found it once, in my first life. The night I died, I was locked in Damian's study, looking for a way out. I found the contract in a drawer and read every word, and I understood too late.

I smiled.

"Priest," I said, and my voice rang clear in the quiet hall. "Please call three witnesses. I wish to use the Clause of Old Refusal."

The priest's face went white. "The what?"

"Third seal. Last line." I held up the paper. "A bride who carries the Witch mark may end any betrothal before a temple priest and three witnesses, by speaking the Old Words. No reason needed. No price paid."

The hall went completely silent.

"That clause is forty years old," my father whispered. "How do you"

"You never read it, Father. Nobody did."

I looked at Damian. And there it was, for just one second. Fear. Not anger. Real fear. He knew the clause was there. He had hidden it, because he was afraid that someday a Witch Queen would be born into House Calder. He just never thought it would be the girl he planned to use.

"Three witnesses," the priest said weakly.

An old woman from the front row stood up. "I will stand." Then a young man by the door. Then, from the back of the hall, a calm voice said, "I will."

King Kael Draven walked forward through the crowd. Every person stepped aside for him. He stopped three steps away from me, and his silver eyes did not leave my face.

"The King of Draven witnesses," he said.

Damian's face turned the color of paper.

I held the scroll in both hands and spoke the old words. I had practiced them a hundred times in my head, in the dark, in my last life, wishing I had known them sooner.

"By the mark of the thorn crown, I am no one's bride. Let this promise break. Let this name be cleared. Let no hand claim what was never given."

The scroll caught fire. It did not burn my hands. It burned bright gold from the top down, and the red seals cracked and fell off like dead leaves. In three breaths, there was nothing left but a little ash on my palms.

I blew it away.

"I refuse," I said. "To you, and to every deal you made without me."

The crowd exploded. Shouting, gasping, clapping. Someone whistled. My father sat down hard on a bench. Lady Corinne stared at me with hate in her eyes, pure and open.

And Damian, for the first time in two lives, did not smile. He looked at me for a long moment. Then he leaned in so only I could hear.

"You will regret this, Mira," he whispered. "You have no idea what you just started."

Yes, I do, I thought. I started the end of you.

He turned and walked out of the temple, his coat flying behind him.

I let out a long breath. My knees were a little weak. Then a shadow fell across me, and I looked up.

King Kael stood very close now. The crowd was still shouting, so nobody heard him when he spoke.

"That clause was hidden in a drawer in Damian's study," he said, very low. "In my timeline, you found it too late."

My blood turned to ice.

"My timeline," he repeated, with the saddest look I have ever seen on a man's face. "You are not the only one who came back, Mira."