The Monster and His Queen

Chapter 13

"They're here. And they brought an army."

Captain Ryver stood in the throne room, his armor dusty from hard riding. King Zarek sat on his throne, Elaria and Draven standing to his right, the court assembled around them.

"How many?" Zarek asked.

"Five hundred soldiers. Twenty nobles. And King Tavian himself." Ryver's expression was grim. "They'll reach the palace by nightfall."

A murmur ran through the court. Draven's expression went carefully blank, but through the bond, Elaria felt his dread and anger.

"Your father is coming," she said quietly.

"Unfortunately." Draven's jaw tightened. "I was hoping he'd send a representative. Him being here makes everything more complicated."

King Zarek raised his hand, silencing the court. "Prince Draven, I assume your father doesn't know about the shadow marriage?"

"No, Your Majesty. He thinks this is still a standard political arrangement."

"And when he finds out you've already bound yourself to my daughter?"

"He'll be furious. Possibly violent." Draven met the king's eyes steadily. "But he can't break the bond, and he can't take Elaria from me. I won't allow it."

"Good." Zarek stood. "Then we present them with a united front. The shadow marriage will not be revealed unless absolutely necessary. We'll proceed with the public ceremony as planned. Let King Tavian think he still has some control."

"That's risky," Elaria said. "If he finds out we deceived him—"

"Then he finds out. But I won't give him ammunition to use against us before he even arrives." Zarek descended from his throne. "Prince Draven, I expect you to be on your best behavior. No shadow displays, no threats, no giving your father reasons to object to this alliance."

"I'll try, Your Majesty. But if he threatens Elaria—"

"Then you'll let me handle it. I'm quite good at managing difficult kings." Zarek almost smiled. "Trust me, I've been one for thirty years."

As the court dispersed to prepare for the Northern delegation's arrival, Elaria and Draven retreated to a private alcove.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No” Draven ran a hand through his dark hair. "My father is possibly the worst person to deal with right now. He's cruel, manipulative, and he'll see you as property—something he traded me for."

"I'm not property."

"I know that. You know that. He won't care." Draven's shadows flickered with agitation. "And there's something else. Something I haven't told you yet."

Elaria's stomach tightened. "What?"

"My brothers. All six of them will be with him. They hate me, Elaria. Not just dislike—actual hatred. When we were children, they used to lock me in light-sealed rooms for days just to watch me suffer." His voice was flat, emotionless, but she felt the old pain through their bond. "If they sense any weakness, any opening, they'll use it."

"What kind of opening?"

"You. Our bond. The fact that I actually care about someone." He took her hands. "They'll try to hurt you to get to me. You need to be careful around them. Don't trust anything they say, don't accept anything they offer."

"I can handle myself."

"Against trained warriors who've spent their lives learning how to cause pain? Against men who enjoy cruelty?" Draven's grip tightened. "Promise me you'll stay close to me. Or to your guards. Never alone with any of them."

Through the bond, she felt the depth of his fear for her safety. It wasn't just worry—it was bone-deep terror.

"I promise," she said. "But Draven, you need to promise me something too."

"What?"

"Don't let them provoke you. Don't give your father ammunition to use against us. I know they'll try to make you lose control, but—"

"I know. I'll try." He pulled her close, resting his chin on top of her head. "But if they hurt you, all bets are off."

They stayed like that for a long moment, drawing strength from each other. Then Martha appeared in the doorway, her face troubled.

"Princess, we have a problem. Several, actually."

"What now?" Elaria asked, pulling away from Draven reluctantly.

"First, your father wants you in formal court dress for the welcoming ceremony. That means the dress with the high collar that will hide your shadow mark." Martha held up an elaborate gown of deep blue silk. "We need to start preparing you now if we're going to be ready in time."

"And second?"

"Second, there's a delegation from the Eastern Cities that just arrived. Unannounced. They say they're here to witness the wedding as neutral observers." Martha's expression was skeptical. "But neutral observers don't usually bring twenty armed guards."

Draven swore under his breath. "The Eastern Cities never do anything without a reason. They're here to assess whether this alliance threatens their own interests."

"So we're being watched from all sides," Elaria said. "Wonderful."

"Third," Martha continued, "and this is the most concerning—I found traces of shadow magic in the wine cellars. Someone has been tampering with the barrels meant for the wedding feast."

"Poison?" Draven asked sharply.

"Worse. Shadow poison. It won't kill, but it will make anyone who drinks it susceptible to void influence. Easy to manipulate, easy to control." Martha looked at them both. "Someone wants your wedding guests to be puppets."

"Selene and Marek are in the dungeons," Elaria said. "So who—"

"There were fifteen other conspirators on that list," Draven reminded her. "Your father arrested the most prominent ones, but the others went underground. They're still out there, still working against us."

"Then we destroy the tainted wine and serve something else," Elaria said.

"Already done. But Princess..." Martha hesitated. "If they got into the wine cellars, they can get into other places too. The kitchen. The armory. Your chambers."

The implications were chilling. They weren't safe anywhere.

"Double the guards," Draven said immediately. "And I'll set shadow wards around Elaria's rooms. Anyone who tries to enter with ill intent will trigger them."

"What about your rooms?" Elaria asked.

"I don't sleep much anyway. I'll be fine."

"That's not—"

A bell rang through the palace, deep and resonant. The signal that important guests had been spotted on the horizon.

"They're early," Martha said, checking the sun's position. "We have maybe two hours before they arrive. We need to move."

The next two hours were a whirlwind of activity. Elaria was dressed in the formal gown, her hair arranged in an elaborate style that took three maids to complete. The shadow mark on her wrist was covered with silk gloves. Every trace of informality was erased, replaced with the image of a perfect princess.

When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself.

"You look beautiful," Saphira said, bouncing into the room. "Like a queen!"

"I look like a doll," Elaria muttered.

"A very expensive doll." Saphira grinned. "Oh! I heard Prince Draven's brothers are coming. Are they all as handsome as he is?"

"Saphira, remember what I told you. Stay away from them."

"I know, I know. They're dangerous and cruel and I shouldn't talk to them." Saphira rolled her eyes. "But I'm not a child. I can handle a few mean princes."

"It's not about handling them. It's about staying safe." Elaria caught her sister's hand. "Please. For me. Just avoid them as much as possible."

Something in her tone made Saphira's smile fade. "You're really worried."

"I am. These aren't court nobles who hide their cruelty behind polite words. These are warriors who've been raised to value strength above everything else. They won't care that you're young or innocent."

"Alright. I'll be careful." Saphira squeezed her hand. "But you be careful too. Everyone's talking about how King Tavian is supposedly worse than his sons combined."

When Elaria finally made her way to the throne room, she found it transformed. Banners from both kingdoms hung from the walls. Guards in ceremonial armor lined the path to the throne. The entire court had assembled in their finest clothes.

Draven stood near the throne, and Elaria's breath caught. He wore black leather and dark steel, looking every inch the warrior prince. His shadows were contained but visible, rippling around him like a living cloak. When he saw her, his amber eyes flared with heat.

Through the bond, she felt his reaction—desire, pride, possessiveness, love. It made her skin warm despite the cool air.

"You clean up well," she said softly as she took her place beside him.

"So do you. Though I prefer you without all the formality." His voice was pitched low enough that only she could hear. "That dress makes me want to tear it off you."

"Draven!"

"Just being honest."

Before she could respond, trumpets sounded. The massive doors to the throne room swung open.