Chapter 7

Elowen's POV

Mistress Aud began adjusting my dress, smoothing the fabric and straightening the straps.

I lowered my eyes to my hands.

There was still dirt beneath my fingernails. Small scars marked the backs of my hands, left by years of scrubbing blood and filth from the beast pit.

I was afraid to touch the pearls. I might stain them.

Another thought returned to me, one I had already been handed an answer to, in a voice that never bothered to lower itself.

Wouldn't the royal family have attendants who checked the bride's identity? Wouldn't someone ask me to lift my veil? What if they wanted to see my face?

They would kill me the moment they realized I wasn't Beatrice.

I did not ask. There was no one in this room who would answer me.

The door suddenly opened.

The Countess entered in her outdoor cloak, already dressed to leave. She looked impatient, though her eyes paused briefly on my wedding dress.

"Why isn't she ready yet? They're waiting outside."

"She's ready, my lady," Mistress Aud replied.

The Countess came over and set my veil straight. Her fingers moved over the gauze, making sure it covered my face completely.

"Remember, once we're outside, don't speak unnecessarily. If anyone asks you something, you don't have to answer."

I nodded, and the Countess did not let go of my chin.

She studied me the way one studies a stain that has been covered but not removed, her mouth drawn thin, and then she turned her head toward the door at her own pace.

"Mistress Aud. Fetch the bitterwort. The strong decoction, not the watered one."

Mistress Aud's mouth opened slightly, as though she were about to ask why, and then closed again.

She went out and came back with a squat glass bottle and a folded cloth, and the smell arrived in the room ahead of her—green and medicinal and sharp enough to catch at the back of my throat, the way a draught of something meant for other people's illnesses would.

"Hold still," the Countess said.

I held still.

The first pass of the cloth was cold against my neck, and the second was colder, and by the third the smell had climbed into my nose and settled there, so thick that I could taste it on my tongue.

Selene lifted her head in the back of my mind and turned in a circle, sniffing at nothing, unsettled by the absence of something she could not name and I could not either.

What is that? I asked her.

She just gave a small, bewildered whimper.

"There," the Countess said, capping the bottle. "Now she smells of an apothecary's shelf instead of a slaughterhouse. That will have to trouble no one."

Without sparing me another glance, she seized my wrist and pulled me toward the door.

"Come. They've brought him."

Before I could think about what that meant, she was already moving me out into the corridor.

My wedding dress dragged along the floor. The skirt was too long, and I nearly stepped on it several times. The wide hat made it difficult to see where I was going, so I kept my eyes on the floor and followed her.

As we crossed the castle, I heard servants whispering.

Some looked at me with curiosity. Others covered their mouths to hide their laughter.

No one came forward to ask why Miss Beatrice wasn't walking beside her mother.

No one tried to stop us.

I was simply led out of the castle like an object being delivered to its new owner.

I had imagined that the royal party would bring a grand carriage to collect the bride. Perhaps one with gilded doors, soft seats, and knights riding alongside it.

After all, Aldric Auren had once been the most beloved prince in the kingdom. Even if he had lost his position as heir and been sent into exile, he was still the King's son.

But when I stepped beyond the castle gates, there was no grand carriage waiting.

There was a prison wagon.

Its body was made of rough wooden planks reinforced with iron bars, the corners rust-stained and the wheels thick with dried mud. It was not built for comfort or dignity. It was built to hold something that could not be allowed to move freely.

Through the bars I could see that the interior was large enough to hold several people, with a low bench bolted to one side.

It was not a cage built to break a man. It was built for something bigger than a man.

The bars were widely spaced and the walls open to the road and to anyone who cared to watch from the roadside; fitted along the inner walls at intervals, bolted flush against the wood where a man's back or shoulder might rest, were strips of dull gray metal that caught no light at all.

Silver, Selene whispered.

Her voice was faint, but I felt her wariness.

Even from a distance, I could feel the unpleasant pressure of the metal. Silver could burn our flesh and smother the strength of our wolves.

My own wolf stirred uneasily inside me and pulled back.

I held my breath and took half a step back, and the Countess's fingers tightened on my wrist until I stopped. Silver was dangerous to all of us.

But why?

Silver was not cheap. A wagon lined with it was not a precaution; it was a purchase.

Aldric Auren was the crown prince. He was one of the most powerful and respected men in the kingdom.

Why would the royal family send a wagon fitted with silver restraints to collect him?

Why was a prince being treated like a prisoner?

A Warrior standing beside the wagon noticed me.

"Is that the bride?"

He looked me up and down, then turned his face aside and covered his nose.

"By the Moon. What's she been rolling in? Blood, and some kind of bitter medicine?"

I froze.

The Countess had tried to cover the smell of the beast pit with that sharp herbal concoction, but it hadn't disappeared completely.

The lingering scent of blood and animal filth was now tangled with the bitter, medicinal smell clinging to my skin and clothes.