I lean closer to Harlow so I can whisper directly into the shell of her ear. “He likes using her, and she’s out here because she wants to be used.”

My thumb brushes gently back and forth over Harlow’s stomach, and she shivers, pressing her ass back into my cock.

“Need something, lovely?” I tease.

I wish she weren’t such a talented liar. It’s impossible to tell if she truly wants it.

Bryce stops abruptly, ripping the woman’s head to the side, turning her. He kneels behind her and nudges her knees wider. He reaches around her body and rips her dress down the front, playing with her breasts. His gaze locks on us and he winks at Harlow.

Harlow tears herself free from my grip and turns back down the path we came from. A night-splitting scream of pleasure erupts from somewhere behind me. I ignore it. Hunt night is full of those sounds.

I trail behind Harlow, aware of several sets of eyes that have been on us the whole time. Everyone wants to know how my new wife will react to the wild nature of Mountain Havenians.

She stalks back toward the house with impressive efficiency. I can’t believe how well she’s oriented herself.

I follow close behind her like a wraith. I wait until we’re out of the woods, through the ceremony circle where musicians still play, and into the courtyard of the house before I speak.

“You were supposed to stay in your room.”

She ignores me as she reaches for the manor door handle. I press my hand against the dark wood so she can’t pull it open.

“That was dangerous,” I whisper.

She turns on me and juts her chin, somehow managing to make it feel like she’s looking down on me. “I am not some docile wife to be kept locked away in your creepy tower. I will know the customs and ceremonies of this place, and I don’t need your permission.”

“Your pride is boring. It will get you killed or worse.”

“Then at least it will save you the trouble,” she counters.

I take a step back. Did she overhear someone she shouldn’t have, or does she just have her own suspicions about what my family wants? I wouldn’t be surprised if she overheard people grumbling about her presence around the fort, but I don’t need to make it any harder for her to trust me.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snaps.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re forgetting to hate me. Like you’re concerned.”

Her words spear me. I’m forgetting myself because I’m tense. Because I’m tired and hungry and trying to wrangle this woman is already a bigger task than I anticipated. Why couldn’t she have been a pretty, coddled moron?

“Don’t you have a bodyguard who should be keeping you from doing things like wandering into the woods alone at night?” I ask.

She shrugs a shoulder.

I glance up at the house. I’m going to have a word with Gaven. How is it that she ducked him so easily in the city to go on her murder sprees and here to go to a feast night?

Unless he’s snooping and she’s just a diversion. I hadn’t considered it before—so busy worrying my wife-to-be will be the one burying a knife in my back—but now I see that the two of them are a team.

“Do you need an escort or can you be trusted to make it back to your room alone?”

Her eyes flash with mischief. “Only one way to find out.”

She chops her hand at my elbow, releasing my weight from the door, and ducks inside before I can scold her. The door slams closed behind her, and I turn to head back to the hunt, trying to ignore the scent of her perfume on my clothes.

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18HARLOW

I’m not sure what possessed me to sneak out to see the hunt last night. Perhaps it is madness that made me think following a stranger into a dark forest during some sort of sex game was a good idea. But it’s not madness alone. It’s also seeing the annoyance on Henry’s face when he realized I won’t be so easily contained.

I had an idea of what it would be like here, but none of the stories I heard as a teenager could have prepared me for watching Henry’s friend with that woman.

It was reckless to wander. I could have just as easily been scooped up by someone other than Henry. I need to stop treating this place like I know the dangers the way I do at home in Lunameade. There’s a whole new set of rules I need to familiarize myself with so that I know how to skirt them without getting myself killed.

The Havenwood House library seems the obvious place to start. I should be looking for secret tunnels or hidden books, but instead, I’m searching for a book on marriage rituals because no one has told me a thing about what to expect.

This morning, I woke to two women knocking on my bedroom door. They rudely barged in despite Gaven’s protests and proceeded to fit me for my wedding gown and ritual clothing.

I wasn’t exactly expecting privacy here, but I also wasn’t expecting two strangers to ask me what position I’ll be consummating my marriage in so that they could create undergarments that would best put my assets on display.

The only highlight was seeing the stunned look on Gaven’s face over the top of the changing screen. It’s almost impossible to shock him, but I’ve never seen him hustle out of a room so fast.

Now he’s posted outside the library doors after sweeping the entire room like a secret army might be waiting to murder me in the history section.

I understand the vigilance, but I hardly think the two of us are prepared to stop the full force of the fort. If they want to kill me, they will likely succeed. Still, I appreciate that Gaven will go down swinging.

The library is bigger than I expected. People in Lunameade believe Mountain Haven is full of wild folks who don’t care for scholarly studies, but this room must span the entire length of the house. Light pours in the large windows, illuminating dust motes that swirl around leather-bound volumes of every color and size.

A large map of the fort adorns the wall by the entrance. There are six levels, with Havenwood House situated at the top of the fort, the last strategic stronghold if the Drained were to attack. The map is more decorative than functional, and while seeing the gates between levels is helpful, it offers little detail that I didn’t see with my own eyes yesterday. Riding into the fort, I noticed some of the nuances of each level, like how most of the gardens and farmlands seem to be on the first level, but I need to ask Henry if there’s a hierarchy to who lives where. I wonder if the poorest and least magical in their community live on the first level, the way that the poor and unblessed live on the outermost rim of Lunameade.

I walk down the narrow aisle, running my fingers over the spines. None of the titles mention rituals or weddings. When I reach the end of the row, I notice a small alcove cut into the wall that’s sectioned off from the rest of the room by an iron-barred door. I peek through the iron slats, scanning the books inside until one catches my eye. The entire shelf contains titles related to divine rituals of Mountain Haven. Some of the books look ancient, their leather worn and cracked.

I try the handle on the door, but it’s locked. When I was young, Kellan and I made a game of picking locks to all non-magically locked doors in Carrenwell House. That skill has come in handy with my double life as the Poison Vixen more than once, but when I’m working, I typically have more professional tools to use. Now I only have the pins in my hair, and while they could probably hold up to picking this kind of lock, the last thing I need is for one of them to break and leave evidence of my snooping.

Instead, I try to squeeze my wrist through the opening in the slats. It’s a tight scrape, but my hand pops through right beside the handle. I’m just barely able to reach the lock, my fingers skimming it enough to twist it. I try the handle again and the door creaks open.