Leaving the Northern Kingdom for the Evergreen Lands in a carriage had seemed like a great idea, until on the third day of our journey, the wheels of that elegant yet old-fashioned conveyance sank deep into the mud.

I was glad I had brought my faithful mare with me. So had my sister, and now, together with friends and a dozen royal guards, we circled on horseback around the massive pool of muck that had appeared so inconveniently in the middle of the mountain pass. The cream-colored coach, trimmed with crystal and mother-of-pearl, stuck out of the mire and gleamed as out of place as a pearl in a cesspit.

Fortunately, we managed to unharness the horses and, with no small effort, pull them out of the mud that had nearly swallowed them up to their bellies.

“I cannot believe such cursed luck!” my elder sister Aurora fumed. “The King’s Bride is expected to arrive in a manner worthy of her rank, not like this!”

“Do the Creators truly expect the Princess of the Telepaths to show up like some doll in a fancy box?” I countered. “Northern women are known as fearless warrioresses. That’s the reputation we must uphold first.”

“And Northerners are also known for their punctuality,” Aurora retorted. “Thanks to this mishap with the carriage, our entire schedule is ruined.”

Twenty-one years spent observing my almost two-century-old sister had taught me to expect her outbursts whenever her plans were upset. 

“Rory, none of us could have foreseen a landslide blocking our path,” I said, trying to comfort her.

“We should have consulted the Seers,” she thought, shaking her head in disappointment.

My sister never hid her thoughts from me, and I caught glimpses of the visions flashing before her eyes—dozens of possible dangers waiting ahead. Some might call it anxiety, but I believed Aurora was simply analytical, as any true engineer would be. 

“To my mind, I see advantages in our situation,” I said, encouraging her and the rest of our companions. “Riding will take us nearly twice as fast, and we won’t need to stop overnight on the Creators’ lands.”

The last two nights we had spent under the watch of Telepath border patrols. Tonight, however, we were to cross into a neighboring kingdom, where the Ceremonial Union would bind two ancient bloodlines. No one knew how safe it would be to stay on what was, for now, foreign ground.

“Well then, Your Highnesses, let’s not waste time,” Karl, the Commander of the Guards, spoke up. “If we linger here even for half an hour, we risk finding ourselves at sunset dangerously close to the borders of the Scorched Lands.”

“You mean the Keepers’ Realm, Karl,” I corrected him.

“If anything remains of it at all,” Karl muttered. “Forgive the cynicism of an old soldier.”

The small Keepers’ Realm was bordered by three states: the Northern Kingdom stretching along the mountain range to the north, the Evergreen Lands to the west, and the Sacred Dominion to the south. The name Heartlands was also known, for the marshy lowlands the Keepers had cultivated thousands of years ago truly lay at the very heart of the continent.

For the past eleven years, these lands had been scarred by war with the vampires. Reports of destruction, injuries, and deaths had become less frequent, yet in the central regions, sporadic skirmishes still flared up, sudden, like tongues of flame leaping from smoldering embers.

“No matter how Karl puts it, he is right,” Aurora agreed. “As head of the delegation, I command that everything that can be strapped to the saddles be secured, and prepare for a long ride. Our goal is to reach the Border Fortress before sunset.”

Whatever Aurora felt inside—irritation, anxiety, or impatience—she never lost the composure of a confident leader. My elder sister gave her orders with authority, took responsibility upon herself, and guided everyone at her side. I was glad to think that Aurora would one day rule the Northern Kingdom once our parents retired. As the younger sister, I was to take on the role of queen consort in the Creators’ Kingdom, joining in a union of unprecedented importance, according to our father, King Yonn. He’d warned us more than once: if the union didn’t happen, the Northern Kingdom could slowly grow weaker, facing stronger and more united enemies. In time, it might end up like the Keepers’ realm—torn apart by civil wars, shaken by uprisings, and attacked by vampires who no longer bothered to hide.

After gathering our belongings, we quickly chewed on some dried venison, just enough to keep our strength up before setting off.

Aurora and I rode side by side, surrounded by our guards on all sides, yet what gave me the greatest reassurance was having my friends Sara, Katrina, Erika, Dora, and Tina close by. Following an old tradition, they stayed by my side like shadows, keeping watch and lending their support. At any moment, I knew that a single whistle would bring one of them to me. That’s how deeply we were connected.

This year, we had all graduated from the Academy of Arts—a special university for immortals gifted with telepathy. Beyond the studies, our shared passions had drawn us together: reading, sports, and martial arts. To unite all our hobbies, we founded a club called Birdies of Prey, for together we were not just strong—we were dangerous. And if we spoke less often in playful names like “little birdie sister” or “darling titmouse,” people would certainly take us far more seriously.

The sleepover party, where I told my friends that I was engaged, was one of the most joyful nights of my life. Immortals do not marry often, if ever. And a Ceremonial Union between two kingdoms, blessed by the gods themselves, was an event one could wait a lifetime to witness, even as a mere guest.

When the girls found out that I was to marry not just one of the Creators’ princes, but the king himself… their squeals of excitement woke the dormitory warden. Yanus came running to restore order, but ended up exclaiming “No way!” Then he demanded a mug of cloudberry liqueur and insisted that I tell every single detail of the upcoming event.

There weren’t many details to go into, though. The Ceremonial Union resembled a layered agreement. Each part was discussed with representatives of the families joining the union, as well as with witnesses from other kingdoms, who were to declare that they had no claims on the marriage and saw no threat in it for themselves. I planned to learn all the small steps and delicate customs of each ritual as we prepared for the ceremony.

“Can’t wait to see your handsome future husband?” Katrina laughed, easily catching up to me on her nimble young mare, Arrow. The wind had whipped Katrina’s high ponytail into disarray, and her curtain bangs kept drifting into her blue eyes, as clear as water.

I hadn’t even noticed when I surged ahead on my spirited Raspberry, almost passing the guards and breaking the formation. 

“Flying on the wings of love,” I said with a smile.

The Prime Creator was, in every way, a match to envy. Which immortal family would refuse to unite with someone capable of growing gardens in the desert through magic alone? Yet beyond his power, Gabriel possessed a raw, masculine charm that drove women wild. Seven feet tall, over three hundred pounds of almost pure muscle beneath olive-toned skin, with piercing green eyes and long black hair, he made almost every Telepath female sigh when he came to ask for the Princess’s hand.

Aurora, however, had refused him, for her own reasons. But when he asked me to be his bride, I felt a spark of possibility for my own ambitions. At that turning point Gabriel’s arrival seemed to weave a golden thread through all my dreams and desires, stitching them together into a path that now shone before me.

The wedding was to take place in one lunar cycle, on the Day of the Summer Solstice—a grand celebration in the Evergreen Lands. Yet before that, we were to face a long series of rituals, including a trial I was not quite ready for, as I had not yet mastered the gifts of telekinesis and levitation. Still, a whole month lay ahead of me to find a way to meet that challenge.

In addition, during this lunar cycle Gabriel and I were to become acquainted with each other, with our families and closest attendants, and also receive guests from other kingdoms, who, along with gifts and kind wishes, would formally confirm their families’ consent to this union.

A striking feature of the immortal community was that strict hierarchical order was not always observed. Otherwise, one might have relied only on the consent of the Sovereigns. Instead, it was considered proper etiquette to invite as many prominent representatives of each family as possible. Generosity, wealth, and love for grand festivities made Gabriel potentially capable of inviting every immortal in the world—over a thousand of them—and conduct a census all at once.

The planning of the wedding itself would unfold gradually, during the pre-wedding receptions and feasts. The rites, decorations, and costumes would all be designed and brought to life for the occasion.

Long story short, my wedding was the most anticipated event in the past two hundred years since the last Ceremonial Union between the Healers and the Sighted had been celebrated. The festivities were unforgettable. But the marriage of Princess Teresa and Prince Ren lived on in memory not for celebration, but for the surge of medical progress it unleashed. By now, it was hard to recall what the world had been like before the ability to diagnose and treat such a vast number of complex illnesses. The average lifespan of mortals had almost doubled.

Now the entire immortal community would be wondering which field of science would emerge from this unusual union of the Prime Creator and the Princess of the Telepaths.

The mountain pass gave way to coniferous forests, and then to farmland. In the highest-altitude areas, tea and medicinal plants were cultivated, followed by fields of potatoes and oats, numerous rows of grapevines and fruit trees. Far off in a flooded river meadow, the silhouettes of rice bushes could be spotted, rising from the water.

The Creators, living on this side of the border, used every inch of land, turning the world around them into a celebration of fertility. The Telepaths, in turn, had always welcomed new farming families migrating in search of unseeded lands.

Lost in the colorful rows of flowering shrubs stretching toward the horizon, I noticed that the sun had already dipped rather low, and we had yet to reach the Evergreen Lands. Here, the boundary between our kingdoms followed the natural terrain, running along the river, with the bridge across it serving as a kind of border checkpoint.

“Platoon, attention! We’re approaching the bridge,” Karl announced, raising his fist. The biceps of his muscular arm stretched the thin chainmail. “Given that most of our armies are drawn to the southern borders, there might be no border guards here at all. The good news is the sun is still fairly high, so if an ambush awaits, it will likely be nothing more than deserters or bandits.”

Oh yes, nothing to worry about at all.

“Bad news, Commander of the Guards?” Aurora asked, entirely serious.

Karl furrowed his striking dark brows, sharply contrasting with his light hair and reddish beard.

“Considering that we are approaching the Creators with peace and an offer of a friendly alliance, I would very much like there to be no casualties, even on the attackers’ side,” the Commander explained. “After all, they might be subjects of King Gabriel. Naturally, if we find ourselves in a hopeless situation, the Princesses’ safety will come first.”

“A valid point,” Aurora acknowledged. “From my own experience, every gang has some distant relative of a local lord or general. And we don’t need scandals.”

“In that case,” Karl continued, “once my soldiers have checked every bush around the bridge and give the all-clear, we will cross and ride southwest at full speed. The Border Fortress is within reach. They don’t expect us before tomorrow morning, but the northern gates must be open by sunset. So we have two goals: reach the gates in daylight and avoid meeting anyone along the way.”

With that, Karl moved toward the bridge with his troops, while we stayed behind to wait for the signal that the path was clear.

I couldn’t understand why everyone was so tense. We were approaching one of the Creators Kingdom’s largest military installations. Clearly, if we encountered anyone, it would be a patrol or the royal guards sent to meet us. If I could make out the silhouette of the Border Fortress in the distance, the sentries could surely spot us through their binoculars.

Once our guards had finished checking every arch of the stone bridge and every bush nearby, we moved on. My sister and friends stayed close, Yanus took the rear, and together we entered the final stretch that led me to my destiny.

How did the very first and smallest of the delegations of Telepaths come to include, alongside my sister and closest friends, the warden of my academy dormitory? The answer was simple—nothing is easier than pleasing someone certain of what he desired. And Yanus, who had lived for nearly a century, wished to find himself in the midst of a historical event.

I wasn’t ready to give my consent until I had spoken with Aurora. But before I could utter a word, Yanus dragged from the academy library the Codex of the Ceremonial Union, which declared that the bride’s delegation must be accompanied by her personal chef. His duty was to instruct the cooks of the inviting side in the subtleties of the guests’ cuisine, ultimately creating a menu of unique dishes that combined the best elements from both kingdoms. No sooner had I glanced at the ancient text than Yanus proudly presented an equally dusty certificate proving his status as a master chef. He even treated me to herring marinated in bread-flavored oil. It tasted as though it had been made with love.

I yielded, Aurora did not object, though Karl tried to question Yanus’s candidacy. According to the Commander of the Guards, each extra civilian in the Princess’s escort was a vulnerability. As if killing an immortal was so easy. Not impossible, of course, but too many conditions had to be met for an immortal body not to restore itself after such an attempt. Otherwise, our guard corps would have been ten times larger.

Yet even here Yanus proved unshakable, arriving at Karl’s roll call in a sergeant’s uniform and waving a worn piece of paper that turned out to be his discharge from the Northern Army. Any question of how Yanus managed such a full life answered itself—his motivation soared higher than mountains and ran deeper than lakes. 

“Ride ahead, ladies, I’ll cover you!” he urged us with his usual cheer, hand resting on the pistol he was permitted to fire only as a warning. Responsibility lit up the Telepath’s freckled face, and the dimple on his high-held chin carved even deeper than usual.

We crossed the bridge without so much as a bump in the road. Standing at its highest point, I even looked around to make sure all was quiet, save for the storks gliding over the fields and the crows cawing in the trees.

The Border Fortress loomed close at hand.

Having passed the wheat field, we could already see the suspension bridge of the northern gates, the one we had to cross to reach warmth and safety. The sun was brushing the horizon, its rays flashing through the tall rows of corn we were riding into next. As with all plants in this kingdom, the corn astonished with the height of its stalks and the width of its leaves. More than that, the cobs looked almost ripe, ahead of their natural schedule by almost two months.

Someone must have whistled in awe, no less impressed than I was by the grand harvest soon to be gathered. But no one spoke aloud.

A massive hare darted out of the thickets on the right, crossed the road before us without so much as a glance, and disappeared into the field on the left. Then a flock of birds burst from the bushes beyond the furrows.

Karl raised his fist, signaling us to halt. A rustle stirred in the leaves, followed by hoofbeats and laughter. I thought a patrol must be approaching from the right, but Karl and the other guards stiffened, closing ranks more tightly around Aurora, me, and the rest of my friends.

Riders began to appear among the trees. Instead of the green uniforms of the Creators’ Army, they were clad in black leather jackets and pants. Their tack bore no royal crests. Six or seven men could be seen clearly, and in total there were about a dozen—fewer than us, but Karl chose not to take chances.

“Fall back,” the Commander of the Guards ordered. “We’ll skirt the cornfield and enter the fortress through the western gates.”

“But the sun is all but gone,” Aurora protested, stating the obvious with concern. “Let’s just wait for these strange gentlemen to ride past on their own business. Perhaps they’re just farm lads returning from their work.”

Maybe Aurora was right. But like Karl, I felt uneasy. The riders looked more like hunters than field workers. Fur vests, knife belts, and high boots reminded me of ragtag musicians, if not something worse.

Just then, the leader spotted us, locked in place between the towering corn stalks.

“Well, well,” whistled a bronze-skinned man with kinky curly chestnut hair braided into a plait. “Looks like we bastards won’t have to wander the land looking for trouble. Such fine gents delivered themselves right into our hands.”

His bright yellow predator’s eyes met mine, and for a moment that stretched into eternity, I knew the hunter had chosen his prey, and it was me. Then he gave a wild cry, and the whole pack of brigands charged toward us, whooping and whistling.

“Aaaah!” Yanus shrieked, firing his pistol at the raiders.

“You stupid son of a b*tch!” Karl roared at him, struggling to control his horse, which like all our mounts reared at the crack of the shot.

“Do what Karl ordered!” Aurora shouted, holding herself atop her panicked horse with a touch of telekinesis. “Move!”

We turned and galloped back to circle around the cornfield, just as Commander had ordered.

Yanus’s shot hadn’t harmed a single bandit; it only stirred them up.

“Where now, gorgeous?” someone shouted. “We’ve been expecting you!”

Royal protocol dictated that in case of danger I put my own safety first, yet I couldn’t resist glancing over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure none of my companions had been struck by a stray arrow or crossbow bolt. I rode among the front, the guards covering our retreat, and it was hard to track the bandits behind us. One thing I could say for certain—my personal stalker had vanished. Hoping he had merely fallen behind would have been foolish, so I kept my eyes on all sides, in case he, knowing the terrain better, chose to cut across and catch me off guard. The rapidly approaching twilight favored a maneuver like that.

And I was right. Not even halfway across the field, out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed a rider vaulting over the corn stalks as though astride a pegasus rather than a horse. A wolfish grin shone across the bandit leader’s face as he landed in the wheat right before me, certain of his easy victory. But thanks to my mother, the brave warrioress of the Order of Irinia, I had a few tricks up my sleeve that could counter even a telekinetic pursuer.

With a sharp tug of Raspberry’s reins, I commanded her to spin on the spot and, by the gods, that mare must have been a ballerina in a past life. A lightning-fast, precise turn let me to dodge the outstretched hand with a ruby ring on the index finger. I giggled as the man’s fist clutched nothing but air.

“Damn it, stop already!” the bandit muttered in frustration, shooting past me on his momentum.

Adjusting my course, I charged toward the fortress again. It was so close now that I could catch sight of all the features: windows and balconies, battlements of watchtowers, the western gates, and the suspension bridge, now moving upward with a creaking sound.

Things were grim. Glancing back, I saw the bandits had almost encircled us, while the fortress sentries remained oblivious, as if we were invisible. Choosing my weapons for battle, I reached for my sword, then my dagger, and finally drew my revolver, clicked off the safety, and fired three shots into the air drawing the attention not only of the sentries but of everyone in the damned Border Fortress.

“For all the gods’ sake!” the yellow-eyed bandit shouted, closing in. My mare had edged so close to the moat surrounding the fortress that I could see the thick weeds swaying in the clear water. There was nowhere left for me to run. “Gabriel can’t stand it when someone shoots under his windows for no reason!”

I leveled my revolver at his arrogantly annoyed face as he stopped five feet away. His gaze cut through me, lips twisted in a lazy, taunting smirk. The immortal showed no fear. He brushed aside a few stray coils from his face, the ruby on his finger flashing again, and suddenly it hit me. 

Though I’d never met this man before, I knew plenty about him from what I’d heard. The legendary Enchanter, outcast son of the First Preacheress and Summoner from the Free Southern Lands…

“Rafael,” a resonant bass voice called from above. “Raising a racket again?” 

I tore my gaze away from the smirking Enchanter and looked toward the fortress, only to see Gabriel, bare-chested on the balcony. Sculpted with divine precision, he looked too perfect, as if carved from stone in the image of the ancient gods. And that was my future husband. My breath caught.

“The King’s Bride has arrived! Drop the bridge, now!” Aurora yelled.

Gabriel lifted his hand, and the bridge crashed down as if someone had sliced through the ropes.

“Aurora, my darling, it’s been an age,” Rafael purred, pulling my sister into a hug as if they were old friends. 

“Do you ever act like a sane man? Why did you decide to hunt us down like bandits?” Aurora returned the embrace, though she was clearly in no mood for it.

“Forgive me, it was hard to resist. Still, I must say, I’m impressed with your new bodyguard.”

The Enchanter urged his horse closer, caught my hand—still holding the revolver—and brushed his lips against the back of it. Goosebumps rushed across my skin, whether from his kiss or the awareness that the cocked gun was aimed straight at his heart, I couldn’t tell.

“I’m not Aurora’s bodyguard,” I said, trying to jerk my hand back from Rafael’s unexpectedly strong grip.

“No way. So young, and fierce, that fire in the eyes…” He held on so tightly I thought for a moment he’d drag me from the saddle if Raspberry so much as stepped back. “I’d bet on Irinian trainee.”

This time, when I jerked away, he released me. Good for him. One more tug and I could’ve pulled the trigger.

“I’m no Irinian trainee. I’m the daughter of one.” I slid the revolver into its holster.

“Sure you are.” Rafael snapped his fingers as though recalling something. “Marta… Lovely.” That shameless man pointed a finger at me and then, with no ceremony at all, turned his back, focusing entirely on Aurora.

Not that I cared to go on with the talk, but the way I instantly lost worth in his eyes the second he uncovered my identity—it stung.

“So, Aurora,” Rafael began, “Gabriel mentioned he was to marry a Princess of the Northern Kingdom. But I was dead drunk that night and can’t recall a thing. Do enlighten me! I’m dying to know what you Telepaths found so appealing in that old libertine.”

“Escort us into the fortress first, Commandant,” Aurora replied, exhausted and annoyed. “Then you may ask your questions.”

Rafael was the Commandant of the Border Fortress? Quite the unexpected post for someone who, first of all, wasn’t even a Creator, and second, acted like an absolute fool.

Aurora was definitely on the same page with me.

“How on earth did you get such a position with your lifestyle?” she asked in surprise.

“Through the bed, and, honestly, it wasn’t bad,” he winked at Aurora. “Well, you know.”

“Your sense of humor hasn’t changed,” Aurora muttered, giving him a sheepish smile.

Crossing the bridge, I glanced at the fortress facade again. Men and women were leaning out of windows and stepping onto ivy-draped balconies to catch a glimpse of the arriving guests. I wished I looked more presentable, but my sweat-soaked riding suit and disheveled hair left me far from elegant. Four muddy horses, led by some other escorts—who, apparently, weren’t bandits after all—completed the chaotic image.

One last look at the balcony where Gabriel had been standing revealed an unexpected sight. A young woman of breathtaking beauty in a scarlet lace robe and chemise glared at me, her dark hair arranged in perfect waves, her bright yellow eyes radiating pure hatred.

Once we passed through the gates, I couldn’t look up anymore, but I’d seen enough.

The second Enchanter. As if one wasn’t enough to ruin my day.

Not that I intended to make a scene over a half-naked young woman in king’s chambers. Gabriel was nearly nine hundred years old, and I didn’t expect him to have no personal life. Still, it was unpleasant to realize he had spent time with another right before my arrival. And with an Enchantress, no less.

That was utterly disgusting. I couldn’t imagine anything more unnatural than indulging in the company of an immortal who could literally force you to do what you didn’t want. Perhaps he hadn’t even wished to be with her, and she hypnotized him? Family prejudices, rooted in centuries of feud, flared up, and filled my thoughts.

Meanwhile, the king himself appeared just as we dismounted in the courtyard and handed our horses to the stablemen. Clad in a simple green linen tunic and pants, his tousled hair and bare feet gave him an effortless charm. It was the Creators’ way, always reaching for the earth, even through the soles of their feet.

“What a delightful surprise! My most welcome guests from the North!” Gabriel greeted us warmly. “Forgive our lack of manners. We expected you only by morning, but there is no greater joy than to see you in fine spirits now. I have ordered the cooks to prepare a celebratory feast as soon as possible. I’m eager to hear the marvelous tale of the winds that carried you here so swiftly, no doubt by the will of the gods.”

With that, Gabriel approached us and pressed his lips to my hand, then Aurora’s, in turn.

“Honestly, the story is much plainer, Your Majesty,” Aurora replied, her hand still caught in the king’s. “Our carriage got stuck in the mud on a mountain pass, so we decided to continue on horseback. Naturally, it was faster.”

“And if the Fortress Commandant hadn’t chased us down, pretending to be a bandit, we might even have made it by sunset,” slipped from my lips before I could stop myself. Complaining about the king’s men right at the gates wasn’t the height of etiquette. Clearly, the road had worn me down, and the mouthwatering scent of roasting meat drifting from the kitchens was quickly stripping away what little patience I had left.

“Ah. So that’s what the noise was.” Gabriel’s eyes settled sternly on Rafael.

The Enchanter merely smirked in response, then met my gaze directly.

“Tattletale”, I heard in my head, and nearly jumped at the unexpected intrusion.

The older the immortal, the stronger his mental shields. From what I knew, Rafael was over five centuries old. And yet, this was the first time I’d ever managed to catch so much as a flicker of his thought, and only because he’d allowed it.

“I’ll have to punish you, my dear friend,” the king moved closer to the Fortress Commandant. “Go upstairs and make sure your sister doesn’t cause a scene,” he murmured.

Wonderful. The beautiful Enchantress was kin to this eccentric provocateur. Things just kept getting better.

“That’s far too cruel. Couldn’t I just clean the stables instead?” Rafael rolled his eyes, but bowed and headed up the steps.

Almost colliding with him, a man rushed down toward us, his face alight with excitement. He wore tight leather hose, high boots, and a short blue jacket embroidered with golden stars. A huge pointed hat shadowed a mane of dark wavy hair. Short mustache and a pointed beard framed a face marked by a striking distinction. I wasn’t even sure at first if he was a Creator.

“Your Majesty, I have had a vision: your bride will arrive ahead of time,” the stranger declared proudly.

Gabriel looked at him with a touch of indulgence.

“Predictions are only useful until the event has passed, Balthazar.” He sighed. “Greet our guests, my dear stargazer.”

Balthazar turned as if only just noticing us, slid the emerald monocle from his eye, and instantly dissolved into effusive courtesies.

“Ladies, my deepest respects,” he kissed our hands one by one. “Gentlemen, what a joy! Allow me to show you everything.”

Our guards soon found themselves his main interest, smothered with backslaps and embraces. Yanus was delighted, unlike Karl.

“Quite the figure,” Aurora mused in my mind. “A peculiar half-blood—child of a Creator and a Seer. I’ve heard he spends his days drinking herbal brews and his nights tracing the stars in search of great omens. Such signs rarely come to him, but his skill at foretelling the weather makes him valuable enough to the military that they forgive his eccentric behavior and odd outfit.”

Well, that explained everything. Especially the wild clash of blues, reds, oranges, and greens in the stargazer’s attire.

“My dear guests, you must be starving,” Gabriel exclaimed, just as the rumble in my stomach betrayed me to the fragrant smoke curling all around. “Come, let me take you to the summer terrace, built for the pleasure of dining in the open air.”

I forced the most pleasant smile I could muster, though in truth, after three days on the road I had grown completely tired of eating outdoors.

Still, I changed my mind once I sank into the soft cushions of the garden swings in the inner courtyard of the fortress, and a servant placed a heavy goblet of red wine in my hand.

In minutes, the table around which we, the Telepaths, the King of the Creators, and his closest councilors were seated was piled high with a sumptuous spread of every kind. Vegetables, berries, and herbs naturally prevailed.

But before I had drained even half my glass, a plate of roast beef on a bed of greens appeared before me. Skewers of grilled meat and golden chicken wings followed.

The delight on my face was reflected in Gabriel’s emerald eyes.

“Let us set aside ceremony and enjoy the feast,” he declared. “All else can wait until we’ve eaten our fill.”

With a few polite courtesies exchanged, we fell upon the food, which was nothing short of exquisite. Once I finished the roast beef, I turned to the skewers, while Aurora and my companions carried on light conversation with the king and his officials between dishes.

Suddenly, a woman’s voice broke through, loud and sharp.

“Rafael, I have no desire to waste time here with you. Say whatever it is you wanted to say. Not that I’m intrigued, but I need an excuse to leave your company.”

No one at the table seemed to hear, save Aurora and a few of my friends, who glanced about in mild confusion. That’s when I realized—I was hearing thoughts. Narrowing my focus, I slipped easily into the mind of the young woman watching us from the balcony above. Unlike Rafael, who stood beside her, her mental shields were pitifully weak. I could see with her eyes, hear with her ears, and still join the conversation at the table without the faintest strain.

“You hurt my feelings, Violetta,” Rafael lamented in mock horror. “I found us the finest watchpoint. These Telepaths sit below, while we study them at ease. They can’t even stare back without looking utterly ridiculous, craning their necks.” 

“The finest watchpoint is beside the king. You know that better than I. Only the gods know how much you wheedled and debased yourself to get the position of Commandant. And why you’re not sitting by Gabriel right now is beyond me.”

“There are things more important than the front row, today of all days,” Rafael said, trying for mystery.

“Go ahead. Impress me,” Violetta feigned a yawn.

“I have long wished to speak with you alone, Letty.” The Enchanter lowered his voice to a velvety murmur, his hands sliding onto her corseted waist. “Like it or not… today is the day. Gabriel truly means to pledge himself to that Telepath, leaving you outside the game. To my delight. For it’s you, only you, who fills my thoughts. Each time I close my eyes I see you—your thick dark chestnut hair tumbling down your graceful back, your enticing golden eyes, your softly upturned nose, and those scandalously tempting cherries you call lips…”

“You’re delusional, Rafael. After I’ve known Gabriel’s body, you have nothing left to offer me. Don’t even dream of it.” Violetta brushed his hands aside, and quite right she was to do so.

Still, I couldn’t quite understand why Violetta dismissed Rafael’s appeal as a man. He might be a jerk, but he was undeniably good-looking. And to compare him with Gabriel was absurd. They were simply too different.

Rafael was half Enchanter, half Summoner. High cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and amber-yellow eyes came from his mother. From his father he had inherited the feline cut of those eyes, arched brows, kinky hair, and a deep bronze complexion. He stood above average height—around six feet or six-one, with an athletic build—strong but not bulky. A light step showed excellent coordination, and his ever-raised chin revealed full awareness of his own allure.

People’s tastes differ, of course, and I could understand that some women might prefer the seven feet tall, long-haired brunette with blazing green eyes and stone-like muscles. But Gabriel lacked the mischievous charm and aura of unpredictability that Rafael exuded so effortlessly. Besides, rumor had it he changed lovers like gloves.

“I could make your lips sing a thousand tunes of bliss and beg for more, even if I had no cock at all, if you’re so petty as to hint at that,” he said, and from Violetta’s inward, haughty smirk, I realized that this was exactly what she’s been pointing at. “Still, not all your needs can be reduced to mere lust.”

“What could you possibly know of my needs?” she countered lazily, hardly taking her eyes off Gabriel.

Meanwhile, the king was tending to his guests, offering us new dishes, calling the musicians to play romantic ballads, and raising toast after toast—sometimes in praise of the beauty of all women, sometimes in honor of friendship between nations.

“You are proud and ambitious, Violetta,” Rafael went on, weaving what she took for a flimsy net of manipulation. “And that fascinates me no less than your unmatched beauty.”

Violetta narrowed her eyes with suspicion, but the compliment earned him a go on look.

“I can offer you far more than the obvious. Influence and a career at court aren’t limited to being the king’s wife,” the Enchanter inclined his head, pressing his point.

“Queen, you meant to say,” the Enchantress cut in.

Judging by Rafael’s sour expression, no, he hadn’t meant that. He exhaled deeply and glanced around, as if avoiding provocative words by every possible means.

“Why settle for being his accessory? Some trinket at his side. Gabriel is my friend. We’ve known each other an eternity. I could ask him for anything. Say, to grant you a coveted position at court.”

“If I wanted to work like a peasant, I’d ask him myself,” Violetta rolled her eyes theatrically. “There’s only one title that satisfies my needs, as you put it. And I was this close to becoming queen, until those pathetic excuse for princesses came bouncing along on their grimy ponies and stole my dream right from under my nose.”

That was a bit much. Yes, northern horses weren’t tall at the withers, but they were incredibly agile and trainable. And they certainly weren’t to blame for being recklessly driven straight into the heart of a mountain landslide.

I didn’t know what Violetta imagined herself to be, but from what I recall of The Book of Lineages, where the genealogies of all immortal houses were kept, I could say with some certainty she was the daughter of an influential eastern lord, but no princess. Which meant her prospects of marrying the King of the Creators—one of the most powerful immortals in the world—were next to nothing. Not to mention, Gabriel had already proposed to me.

Rafael didn’t bother explaining this to her. Probably because Violetta’s imaginary crown was scraping the sky, and the notion of “impossible” was hard to get across.

By then, I was warm, well-fed, and just bold enough from the wine to stake my claim on Gabriel before everyone present.

“Aurora, do you think it’s time for the bride to present a gift to her intended?” I asked my elder sister.

Naturally, Violetta and Rafael turned their attention on us.

“Who’s who?” Violetta asked disdainfully.

“The tall blonde with the long face—that’s the elder daughter of Helga and Yonn, Sovereigns of the Telepaths,” Rafael explained. “Just look at her elegant pantsuit, ankle boots with cylindrical heels, the formal hat, and patterned silk scarf,” the Enchanter’s lips curved in an approving smile. “I noticed at once the local ladies in corseted gowns whispering in disapproval. Aurora is an innovator in everything, even fashion. A queen like her could lead this cheerful, slightly behind-the-times court to greatness.”

Violetta’s envy almost set her ablaze from the inside.

Meanwhile, Aurora drew from her bag a bundle—a sacred relic of the Telepaths, given to us by our father for the Welcoming Rite.

“With that jaw, she could pass for a horse,” Violetta muttered spitefully, unable to fault Aurora in any other way.

Because Aurora was dazzling in every way that mattered so much so that even a slightly prominent jaw could only be stretched into a flaw with questionable effort.

Unlike my sister, I was dressed more in keeping with the court fashion of the Creators. My buttoned vest resembled a corset, and the riding habit had a distinctly feminine cut, its long sweeping train draping over my legs like a skirt. My hair fell in light waves, and I liked to grow it longer for braiding, whereas Aurora kept her thick hair bobbed, hardly peeking beneath her hat.

Taking the parcel from my sister, I stepped before Gabriel and mustered the proper respect as I presented him my gift with a bow.

“Let the memory of this day be carved in eternity, the day I meet my future husband,” I declared, looking at Gabriel with all the warmth and kindness I could put in it. Despite his questionable choice of Commandant and the presence of a mistress somewhere on the horizon, even on the very day of the bride’s arrival, the King of the Creators was a worthy man, else my mother would never have allowed me to marry him.

Violetta flinched in shock.

“They’re marrying him off to this?” She jabbed her finger at me, but I seized the moment, using Gabriel’s embrace of thanks to glance at my rival over his shoulder.

I was sure a smug smirk played across my lips, but through Violetta’s eyes I saw only a frightened little face, with large blue eyes and doll-like lashes. How it irked me—that constant mismatch between how I felt inside and how I looked.

“Everlasting in memory shall be the day I meet my future wife,” Gabriel replied, presenting me with his return gift.

“You said he wanted Aurora.” Violetta looked at Rafael, whose eye twitched with a nervous tic, unmistakably real.

“Unthinkable,” he conceded.

“The girl looks pitiful even among the pitiful,” Violetta sneered. “She’s like the dullest shade in a room full of faded colors.”

I had to replay her words in my mind just to make sure Violetta had actually said that. I could read thoughts—a gift and a curse—and I knew both men and women found me attractive. Slender shoulders, a delicate neck, a light, almost floating gait, a soft smile on thin lips, and a wistful gaze from pale blue eyes beneath lowered lashes.

Violetta, in comparison, was far more striking, thanks to the effort she poured into her makeup, her styled hair, and clothes that clung to every curve with near-vulgar precision.

Her beauty stirred desire. Mine awakened the instinct to shield, to protect from the cruelty of the world. 

“She’s too young, practically a girl. What were they thinking—Aurora, her family, Gabriel? It must be a mistake,” Rafael said, confirming my guess. Another man had decided I was just some damsel in distress.

“My mother married at eighteen; I don’t see what shocks you. At twenty-seven, I get daily lectures that with such pickiness I’ll end up a spinster,” Violetta retorted.

“Marta is a little younger than you. It’s just staggering,” Rafael said, and it was striking he recalled such an exact detail about me.

“Who?” Violetta asked absently, her eyes still on Gabriel.

“Marta, the King’s Bride.” Rafael, however, didn’t take his gaze off me.

“Oh, so this thing has a name,” the Enchantress said with disdain, once again scanning me and finding nothing remarkable.

Rafael looked tenser than when he first caught sight of me in the cornfield and marked me as prey.

“So, Letty, ready to hear a real offer?” he asked, a sinister gleam flickering in his eyes.

“Day can’t get any worse,” Violetta replied. “Spit it out.”

“I’ll help you ruin this wedding,” the Enchanter declared with confidence.

At that moment, Rafael held the full attention of the conceited heir of an eastern lord, while I nearly choked on a candied cranberry.

“Why would you bother? He’s your friend. And you hold a good position. It would be just reckless jeopardizing it. What’s your gain?” Violetta doubted his sincerity.

The Commandant of the Border Fortress held a dramatic pause before answering, perhaps inventing a lie. He wasn’t so foolish as not to realize any Telepath could overhear them.

“I don’t know. I just want to. I’m bored. Perhaps I’ll leave this court sooner or later anyway. Why not leave behind a friend in the queen? Or have you changed your mind about becoming Her Majesty?”

Violetta trembled with anticipation, lost in the dream she had always coveted.

Keeping Violetta on the balcony forever turned out to be impossible even for an Enchanter. Most likely, she and Rafael had crossed their powers and neutralized each other. Honestly, I had no idea how these crafty hypnotists affected their own kind. But how else could I explain that, not long after, Rafael and his companion joined our feast?

What started as a quiet gathering on the terrace had turned into a full-fledged outdoor feast. The tables were covered in elegant cloths and filled with beautifully arranged dishes. Violinists played soft tunes, water trickled in the fountains, and fresh berries on tiered trays delighted the eye and perfumed the air with sweet scent.

The Telepaths, having received enough attention from the king, now wandered through the garden, exchanging pleasantries with Gabriel’s family and members of the royal circle. Aurora and I stood near the chocolate fountain, dipping strawberries and laughing, enjoying the moment.

When Gabriel finished another polite exchange with a noble, Rafael appeared beside him, as if conjured from thin air. I focused on the thoughts of General Jacques, who stood nearby and seemed to be a close friend to both. Over dinner, I learned that before the king’s arrival, Jacques had commanded the Border Fortress. Rafael had taken over temporarily, always staying close to Gabriel as his right hand.

“You’ve chosen someone rather youthful, haven’t you?” Rafael said with a hint of sarcasm.

“Must be a kind of compliment I’m too old to understand, Rafael,” Gabriel replied without turning. “Would you prefer punishment for insulting your king or your future queen?”

“I’ll take the first and continue,” Rafael said calmly. “You went with the youngest of them all. Just look at her—a poor thing, barely standing on trembling legs like a fawn, eyes searching for her mother doe.”

“I must disagree,” Gabriel said with a faint smile. “First, you can’t see Marta’s legs beneath her skirt—unless you’ve suddenly acquired the sight.”

“Still dreaming of it,” Rafael smirked, pretending to peer through the dress of a passing Creatress. Sadly for him, only the Sighted immortals could do that.

“Second,” Gabriel continued, “she’s twenty-one and a graduate of the academy. Young, yes. But not a child.” Even the King of the Creators had his boundaries, and I was glad to see them.

“Come on, remember yourself at twenty-one,” Rafael shook his head.

That damned Enchanter was using my age as an argument to dissuade Gabriel from marrying me? My father was right—they were all as treacherous as vipers slipping into soldiers’ boots.

“Third, she’s not some poor victim of a decision made for her,” Gabriel turned to Rafael, his tone firm. “I asked her personally for consent to the marriage and I guaranteed the right to refuse at any moment before we’re declared husband and wife, king and queen.”

“Ambitious as ever,” Rafael drawled. “And still convinced no woman would turn you down.”

“I work hard to make sure they don’t,” Gabriel replied with a smug grin.

For a moment, the two men paused, as if remembering something shared, then laughed like spirited youths.

Then Rafael sobered.

“You didn’t—” I was certain he meant to say “f*ck her,” but caught himself just in time.

“No. Why would I?” Gabriel replied indifferently. “This is a Ceremonial Union. The bond between our families comes first. Husband and wife? That’s a pleasant bonus, if we choose it.”

“What of future heirs?” Rafael asked, skeptical.

“Marta is the daughter of Irinia Helga. With women like her, it’s not you who decides whether there’ll be an heir,” Gabriel said, mentioning my mother with respect.

Rafael fell silent, probably remembering my mother—the fierce warrioress of the Irinian Order. She never failed to leave impression on men like him.

“If you’re curious,” Gabriel added, “Marta is quite warm toward me. I feel her respect, and I value it more than blind admiration. She also believes in the benefits of an alliance between the Creators and the Telepaths for all immortals and humans.”

“And no doubt she’s proud that the leading role in such a historic event fell to her,” Rafael muttered, rolling his eyes.

“She’s as delighted as a child in a sweetshop,” Gabriel teased.

Meanwhile, Violetta wasted no time. With the confident stride of a life-long victor, she made her way toward Aurora and me.

“Blessed be this day, Princesses,” the Enchantress greeted us in the manner typical of her family, offering the smallest curtsy I had ever seen. “Allow me to introduce myself: Violetta, daughter of Vincent and Leticia.”

“Aurora, daughter of Helga and Yonn,” my elder sister responded. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“And I’m her sister, Marta,” I said, extending my hand to Violetta. “Very pleased to meet you.”

Even if it wasn’t entirely true, I had no intention of letting Violetta seize the initiative and paint me as weak. The Creators were staunch monarchists, respecting only strength and charisma in their leaders. And here, on military grounds, those values were exaggerated to the extreme.

Violetta reluctantly brushed my hand with the tips of her fingers, encased in a red satin glove. The color matched her dress and the cape draped over her shoulders, yet clashed sharply with the green of her emerald earrings and necklace. The ruby on her index finger marked her official acceptance into the Enchanters’ lineage after the ceremony confirming her magical abilities. The rest of her jewelry screamed gifts from some wealthy Creator, perhaps even the king himself.

“At the Creator’s court, everyone eagerly awaited this celebration—the King’s Wedding,” Violetta said with a syrupy smile. “Costumes were sewn, lawns refined, new rose varieties cultivated for the future queen. Languages learned. Altars built to bless the union.” Her lips curled with practiced precision. “And then you were invited.”

Aurora and I understood perfectly well the not-so-subtle implication, that the Telepaths were the reason Gabriel had changed his mind about marrying Violetta, if he’d ever planned to at all. The conversation wasn’t pleasant, but my sister was prepared.

“I heard the guest list is truly unprecedented,” Aurora replied with a smile to match Violetta’s. “Even the Creators from the lands of the Desert Enchanters will be attending,” she added pointedly, pressing where it hurt most.

My sister clearly knew more about Violetta than I did. Images began flashing through the Enchantress’s mind—of the day Gabriel informed her father that he had no intention of asking for her hand. That had been nearly a year ago. In a fit of rage, Vincent issued a decree expelling all immortal Creators from his lands. Even half-bloods with magical gifts were persecuted. The province of Vincent and Leticia soon earned the name “deserted lands,” following the worst crop failure in recorded history—nature’s answer to a cruel and reckless command.

Violetta bared her teeth, as if slapped. For a moment, I almost pitied her.

“Aurora, there’s no need to echo the gossip,” I said, trying to cool the rising tension. “It all comes back around. After the ceremony, the guests will go back to their lives. The gardens will bloom again, and the grain will rise in its fields.”

“I’m absolutely certain that’s how it will be,” Violetta replied, clearly implying she still believed she could emerge from this mess as Gabriel’s wife.

Beneath her mask of haughtiness, the Enchantress felt bitterness and despair. Everything was going worse than ever for her. Not only were her people barely surviving, forced to buy food from neighbors at triple the price, but her own parents blamed Violetta for it all. And as if that weren’t enough, her father had called her a disgrace for lying with a man before marriage. Returning home meant public flogging, the cutting of her hair, and confinement in the Tower of Obedience—a prison in all but name.

That was why Violetta had no intention of returning to her homeland. Her only option was to become queen. And in me, she saw nothing more than an obstacle.

Rafael and Gabriel came to our aid as quickly as they could without making it too obvious.

“Violetta, my dear sister,” Rafael said, taking her by the elbow, “allow me to steal you away for a moment. The guests are asking for your blessing over the bread baked from the first wheat harvested this year.” He guided her gently but firmly. “No one could handle it better than you.” Flashing one of his most charming smiles, he added, “Princesses, my respects.”

Gabriel remained beside Aurora and me.

“Ladies, I hope you’re enjoying yourselves, feeling at home, and that my guests aren’t troubling you too much,” he said, subtly drawing a line between our standing at court and Violetta’s.

“It was a pleasure to meet your Commandant’s sister,” I replied.

“In truth, Violetta isn’t closely related to Rafael,” Gabriel explained. “Enchanters often call one another brother and sister—it’s part of their tradition. She’s here as my guest.”

“The king’s friends are our friends,” Aurora responded diplomatically.

“The openness of the Creators’ Kingdom to all peoples is what I admire most,” I added. “And I’d like to thank you personally, Gabriel, for everything you’ve done for the refugees from the Keepers’ lands. I’ve heard about the number of homes built for the displaced. And your call for citizens to adopt orphaned children whose parents were lost in the war—it moves me deeply.”

“The pain of the Keepers is our pain too,” Gabriel said, kissing my hand. “I’m glad the future queen shares the values of our court. Together, we can do even more to help new citizens assimilate, so they can live happily in their new homes, leaving the horrors of war behind.”

More guests began to gather in a circle around a patterned cloth laid out with golden brown loaves of bread. Violetta stood nearby, her hands pressed together, palms down. Eyes closed, she recited a prayer that grew more impassioned with each line. The verses began to sound like a spell, then melted into a melodic chant. It felt as though the world itself joined her song—the cry of birds, the hum of insects, the rustle of leaves, and the murmur of fountains.

Enchanted by Violetta’s sweet voice, the crowd began to sway and clap in rhythm with her song. She felt their attention settle on her and started moving her hands as if shaping something out of invisible clay. Then she bent toward the earth and rose again, tossing her luxurious curls. The ritual dance grew more intense, each motion stirring the crowd, drawing them in, making them want to follow.

Somewhere in the background, the orchestra picked up the rhythm, playing a melody that kept the guests dancing even after Violetta had finished her blessing. Flushed, eyes ablaze, lips parted with sensual grace, she looked at Gabriel as if to say he was the only spectator that mattered.

Gabriel made no attempt to mask his desire to watch Violetta, despite standing among his bride and her sister.

“Thank you, Violetta, for blessing the harvest,” the king clapped, breaking eye contact and turning to us.

Apparently, the look on my face betrayed my disappointment at how thoroughly Violetta had captured Gabriel’s attention.

“Dear Marta,” he said quietly, once Aurora had stepped away to refill her wine, “if my connection to another woman has offended you, I assure you, I’ll part ways with her before the wedding. I want to begin a new life. And if you wish, I can offer you a romantic adventure of your own before the ceremony, as a form of balance.”

For the first time in ages, I laughed freely.

“Gabriel, you’re the king. Who would dare have a fling with your future wife?” I asked.

“Clearly, I didn’t think that through,” he chuckled.

Or perhaps he intentionally allowed me something I wouldn’t be able to accomplish.

Aurora returned with a fresh glass of wine.

“I hate to be rude, but I must leave you for a while,” Gabriel excused himself. “As a king, I bear responsibility for those who’ve sworn loyalty to me. There’s a matter I must resolve without delay. Please enjoy the celebration or ask the servants to escort you to your chambers. I hope we’ve prepared everything to make you feel like the most welcome new residents of the Evergreen Lands.”

“In my case—guests,” Aurora clarified.

“We’re grateful, Your Majesty,” I replied politely on behalf of both of us.

Gabriel headed toward the fortress, while Aurora and I stayed behind, watching the dancers, with no sign of Violetta among them anymore.

“Gone off to bed that show-off,” Aurora sighed.

“Without a doubt,” I replied.

“And it doesn’t bother you?” she asked, surprised.

“Gabriel promised he would part with her before the wedding. That suits me perfectly well, so I see no reason to throw some petty jealous scene. We’re adults, after all,” I smirked, recalling the respectful tone in which the Prime Creator had spoken of me in that overheard conversation.

“If she were just a regular Creatress, a half-blood, or—better yet—a human, I’d be calm too. But Violetta is an immortal Enchantress, bitter toward you. Who knows what she’s capable of,” Aurora muttered.

“Actually, we prefer to be called Preachers,” Rafael’s voice slipped in, as he appeared suddenly, as usual, and wedged himself into our talk.

The shock made me flinch, and I stared at him as though seeing him for the first time. Before, I had only suspected that this immortal man was dangerous for me. Now, I knew it.

“Rafael,” Aurora greeted him again, “Glad to see you’ve settled in well at the Creators’ court.”

“Thank you, Aurora,” he nodded. “And you grow lovelier with every encounter,” he added, shamelessly eyeing her from head to toe. “That outfit—absolutely stunning. A breath of fresh air in this kingdom of corsets, frills, and flower prints.”

Then Rafael turned his eyes on me.

“Sweet Marta, I am struck by your charm,” he squinted theatrically. “Allow me to properly introduce myself once more. I am—”

“I know who you are,” I cut him off, inhaling sharply.

“As always, my reputation outruns any chance of a fair first impression,” the Enchanter lamented.

“You are the forsaken son of the First Preacheress…” I whispered on the exhale.

“But the beloved son of my father,” Rafael countered smoothly.

The way I froze in his presence clearly amused him. But it wasn’t fear. It was instinct. I’d been taught never to turn my back on a wolf.

“Judging by how wide your lovely sky-blue eyes are, I’d say you’ve heard quite a bit about my humble self,” Rafael continued, still trying to unsettle me.

“I’m not the only one,” I replied. “You’re a well-known Enchanter. I’ve heard plenty of stories… though maybe just rumors.”

“Most sound like pure nonsense,” Aurora scoffed.

“Please, ladies,” Rafael clapped his hands in mock delight. “Tell me the juiciest one!”

Aurora rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Rafael’s laughing amber eyes.

“They say you hypnotize and seduce women against their will,” I blurted.

Rafael choked on his wine and burst into laughter so loud that guests turned to see what had happened. When he finally stopped shaking his tight chestnut curls and the gold charms dangling from his earrings, he smoothed his hair with a graceful flick of his fingers and looked at me with a mischievous glint in his half-lidded eyes.

“If I had to explain myself to a husband,” he said between chuckles, “I’d say the same.”

I glanced at Aurora, unsure how to react. A shadow of a smile flickered on both our faces, but laughing at adultery jokes was wholly unacceptable. At least not publicly, not on the very first day at a new court.

The reputation of the King’s Bride needed saving, and Aurora asked a servant to escort us to our chambers.

“Forgive us, Rafael,” Aurora bowed for us both. “We are weary from the road and wish to rest.”

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Commandant,” I added, following my sister.

“No need to worry about Violetta,” Rafael said, circling back to the earlier conversation. “I promise to absorb all her spite and unpredictability.”

Why lie to my face, knowing perfectly well I was aware of the schemes he was weaving?

“And one more thing, King’s Bride,” the Commandant made me meet his gaze. “For you, I’m just Rafael.” The Enchanter winked and raised his glass as if toasting me.

Two-faced bastard.