Infection?

When I meet her expectant gaze, she’s grinning. “Well?”

I laugh because of the strangeness of the day, because I’m so tense from these expectations, and because I thought my new wife was nervous, but really, she’s just been planning my demise by checking off ways I’ve died from her mental murder list.

The question rebalances the ground between us. I should be angry. We’ve been married a half-hour, and she’s spent the entire time thinking of creative ways to kill me. But I’m relieved that whatever we said in our vows, the truth remains. She is my adversary through and through.

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26HARLOW

I’m relieved to be away from the heat and burning eyes of the ballroom. I can almost pretend I’m not about to get fucked by the new husband I hate in front of a room of people who hate me and my family.

I’m grateful to have a few moments of relative privacy in this little room tucked behind the ceremony space. It’s no more than a windowless space with gray stone walls, a vanity, a couple of chairs, and the soft glow of sunstones in the fireplace.

We already agreed on positions and what I’m comfortable with in the library, but I’m still tense. What if he ignores my wishes and does whatever he wants? He’s been waiting ten years to fuck my family. What better time than when he’s literally fucking me?

But Henry doesn’t seem the type. He will want to do everything exactly as I’ve given him permission to and still make me come. He wants to prove he can because he knows that would be more humiliating than anything else he could do.

Too bad for him it’s not going to work.

I slip off the silver dress, careful to keep my front facing the servant as I hand her the dress. The last thing I need is for anyone other than Henry to know about my scars—well, I suppose other than Henry and his parents. I have to operate under the assumption that he’s shared everything we spoke about with them.

The servant woman hangs the dress carefully and hands me the red slip I had made for this ceremony. The fine silk and delicate lace slide smoothly over my skin as I pull it into place.

I walk across the room to the looking glass next to the fireplace.

The servant steps up beside me. She’s a pretty young woman with honey-blonde hair and full pink lips and a hazy purple aura. She’s blessed by Elvodeen, Divine of Strength. I wonder if she has healing like Henry or some other type of strength magic.

“Take your hair down, miss?” she asks.

I meet her eye in the mirror’s reflection. “Do you think Henry would have a preference?”

She smiles warmly, pleased by my interest in her opinion. “I think most men of the fort like to see their wives with their hair down. We’re normally all pinned up.”

I nod, and she goes to work, plucking the flowers from the elaborate loose braid that took more than an hour to weave earlier. She unravels the plait a section at a time until my hair is free, the loose waves hanging down my back.

“What’s your name?” I ask as she grabs a roll of linen from the dresser beside us.

“Cora,” she says, holding up the roll and blushing. “This is for after—for the bleeding.”

“Oh, I won’t bleed. It’s not my first time. I was married once before⁠—”

“No.” Cora’s cheeks turn bright red. “I thought they’d told you. There’s a blood bind in the ceremony where you’ll cut your palm. I’m sure Henry will heal it, but you don’t want to get anything on your slip. This silk is very fine.”

“The book I read wasn’t very explicit about what a blood bind means,” I say tentatively. I don’t know if the omission of detail was intentional or not.

Cora’s eyes flit to the door and back to me. “It’s all for Divine Kennymyra, for pleasure and vitality. Most ceremonies involve pleasure of the flesh, which is measured in how much vitality is in the blood after. You’ll press your palm to Kennymyra’s sigil in the headboard—there’s a sharp point at the center of it, and you just hold your bloody palm there. If she’s pleased by your offering, it will glow golden.”

“I see.” I don’t really see at all. Things here are much more ritualistic than I’m used to, but what’s a little blood between two enemies?

“Do you know Henry well?” I ask.

Cora flushes again and looks away. She seems a bit too shy to be his type, but someone like Henry must have lovers here. He’s attractive in the wild mountain-man way that seems to be popular, and I’ve certainly noticed the way he turns women’s heads.

“Just in passing. He’s respectful but quiet,” she says.

“Am I in competition for his affections?”

Cora smiles faintly. “I wouldn’t worry about Miriam, miss.”

I smile tightly, like I know who she’s talking about.

“His eyes follow you wherever you go.”

Yes, because he doesn’t trust me.

“Obviously we all know it’s a political marriage, but you really seem to have won him over. A lot of the women here are wondering how you did it,” Cora says. It’s as if one question uncorked all of the words inside her. “How did you do it?”

“I tried to kill him,” I say. “Sadly, it didn’t take.”

Cora freezes for a moment and then bursts into laughter.

I smile and pretend to laugh along with her as if this is a joke and not the most honest thing I’ve said since arriving at Mountain Haven.

“You have a quick wit,” Cora says. “No wonder he looks so smitten.”

A knock sounds on the door.

Cora stands a little straighter. “That means they’re ready for you.”

I nod and stand as she hands me a red silk robe that matches my slip.

Cora sweeps my hair over my shoulders and smiles brightly. “May Divine Kennymyra bless your union.”

I nod and cross the room. Gaven is waiting for me when I push open the door to the small antechamber that connects to the ceremony room. He immediately averts his gaze, placing a hand over the silver mask on his face for emphasis.

“I know you wanted me elsewhere, but I was apprehensive about being away so long,” Gaven says. He hesitates, and I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him look so uncomfortable. “It’s not as if I want to be in the room, but I think I should. What if they lock me out?”

“Gaven, they’ve already had easier chances to kill me. If you’re in the room for this, I’ll actually want them to succeed in offing me.”

He lets out a surprised gasp that sounds like half a laugh.

I pat his shoulder. “I’ll be fine. Just stay out of earshot. Consider that a command. There will be no better time to snoop around this place.”

He sighs and nods curtly, then shoves the heavy wood door to the ceremony room open for me. I step inside without hesitation.

Roughly forty masked faces turn toward me as I enter the space. The murmuring group quiets and shifts to take their places in an arch around the bed. Several men stand toward the front of the crowd, their colorful auras pressed out wide.

Though tonight’s ritual is to honor Divine Kennymyra, I know the heads of the fort’s most powerful families are the ones we really have to impress with our performance.

The room is bathed in golden candlelight from the red candles in the wall sconces. Shadows flicker over the ceiling, making the knots in the intricate wooden beam look like ghoulish faces. Servants flit about the room, refilling wine glasses. There’s a door on the far end of the room that leads back to the feast. Music from the party filters in under the gap in the door.

Finally, I turn to face the bed and my new husband standing beside it. Henry’s changed from his wedding clothes into a red silk robe that matches mine. The top gaps open, revealing his broad, scarred chest as he holds out a hand in invitation. When I take it, he yanks me closer and pushes my back against one of the bedposts. He kisses me hard. I’m so shocked, I let him.