The hand of your daughter. His words echoed in the silent hall.
Dread pooled in her mouth.
Elgret quickly regained her composure to state the obvious. "But my daughter is already married, Thrax. Name another price."
"You said anything, Lady. Your word holds little water as it is. Do not insult or disappoint me again."
Elgret's mouth tightened. When those steely grey eyes found hers, Rowan felt her gut curdle with debilitating fear. She could see the cogs already working in her mother's head—and they weren't working in Rowan's favor. "As you wish," she finally said.
"No!" Rowan spun around to face Merritt, grabbing him by his silk doublet with a force that made him teeter. "Merritt, no!" Terrorr coiled like a snake around her heart. "We're married!"
"Not anymore." Elgret's voice was cold steel. Her mother's armor was back in place now and her voice sharp enough to pierce iron. "This marriage is henceforth annulled."
Just like that.
Merritt's hands covered Rowan's, the warmth of them doing nothing to banish the ice from her bones. He addressed his High Lady, his voice steadier than his feet. "My lady, you cannot do this. My family—"
"You will find that I can, Lord Marwort."
Merritt faced the other woman sitting at the dais. "Mother! Say something!"
Lady Marwort was openly glaring at Egret, but the High Lady's hand sliced through the air like an executioner's ax. Lady Marwort was struck silent by the gesture.
The wargrex was watching Merritt with a sharp grin that chilled Rowan to the marrow. Instinctively, she stepped away from her groom, not knowing why exactly. Perhaps to preserve his life?
"The High Priestess already said the vows!" The wine fog was clearing from Merritt's eyes. "This is...this is...barbarous!"
This time, It was the wargrex who answered him. "What care have I for the words of mortals. Words only. I answer to a higher law."
Merritt gaped at him. "What higher law takes a man's wife from him on his wedding night?"
"The law of gods not men!" The wargrex's eyes brightened with violence.
Merritt balked at him and swivled around to face the High Lady. "You...you forget, my uncle has the ear of the king!"
"I'm well aware, Lord Marwort," Elgret bit out. But there was a flicker of uncertainty in her glare.
"Then you're aware that Rowan is not yours to barter away. Not anymore! She's my wife!"
"What I am aware of is that I have the king's other ear. It is I who guard his western gate—I keep Wrais safe, not your uncle!"
"You're making a mistake, my lady."
Elgret's eyes flared with wrath. "Are you threatening me, boy?"
Merritt swallowed and glanced at his mother, then at Thrax. "I'm only stating—"
"Be careful how you state your answer," said Elgret, "for I may see it as an act of treason."
Rowan's throat constricted as the High Lady gestured to the wargrex. Thrax's jaw was flaring with menace.
"I will not protect you," said Elgret, "nor aid you if you go against the wargrex."
Merritt retreated into brooding silence, his gaze dropping. His face was red and his lean body was trembling with ire.
The small flame of hope that'd dwelt in her heart instantly guttered out. Panic drove her to her mother's side. She dropped to her knees, clutching her mother's skirts. "Mercy, Mother! Please! I beg you don't—"
"Enough!" The High Lady snatched her skirts out of Rowan's grasp and gave a hiss of contempt. Her face was mottled with outrage. "Get. Up. Do your duty." Then she leaned in close with a furious whisper. "Not for self but kin."
The words pierced deep. Her mother was very good at saying much in as few words as possible. Not for self but kin—the family motto.
Everything was for the glory of Wrais and West Gate, and the prestige of the High Lady's legacy. If that glory was to be safeguarded and preserved by the relinquishing of an only daughter to a beast of the outlands, so be it. It didn't matter that he was a barbarian warg, nor would it matter if he fed her to his pack. It didn't even matter that Rowan was already married! Nothing mattered to Elgret except her pride and her duty to West Gate. To Wrais.
Not for self but kin. That was all.
Nausea and coldness seeped into Rowan. The coal black chill of terror was numbing.
"You disgrace me," said her mother.
Her head snapped with the force of those words, like a blow. The disgust etched on her mother's face seared her and she looked away. But she'd aimed her gaze without forethought and found, to her horror, that she was now looking straight at the wargrex.
She was his now.
No! She had to think of something. And fast! Panic was twisting inside her. What would make a man—or beast—renounce a woman? The answer leaped out of her mouth before she could stop it. "Does it matter that I'm no longer a virgin?"
A dark thunderous look rolled across the wargrex's already knotted brow. For a second she nearly backtracked, but it was too late now. The lie was out. She had to see this through! A loss of chastity was certainly reason enough to turn a man off. Her mistake, however, was assuming a warg was anything like a man in that regard.
"A shame," he replied coldly, "but that changes nothing, Lady."
She flinched under his glower. Surrounded by scathing looks and prickling whispers, she'd never felt more isolated and abandoned. Even Merritt's face turned sour, a look of humiliation and betrayal tightening the corners of his eyes.
She should be used to feeling like this—if there was one thing Rowan was good at it was disappointing those she loved.
"Silas!" the High Lady barked.
The steward jumped and rushed to the dais with an obsequious bow. "Yes, my lady?"
"Take my daughter to her chambers, so she may ready herself for departure. And make haste..." Then, in lower tones for Rowan's ears alone, she said, "Before she finds more ways to dishonor her mother."
With a terse nod, Thrax turned to go. "We will wait outside. She has one hour."
Tears blinded her as the steward ushered her out of the hall.
One hour. Now fifty-nine minutes. Now fifty-eight.
After that, she would be taken from the safety of the Iron Girdle. What horrors awaited her beyond the bridge? Well, she would soon find out, wouldn't she?
Only fifty-seven minutes left before her life changed forever.
...
With mere minutes to spare, Rowan stood trembling in her private parlor. She was staring at her leather bag, loaded and buckled at the last notch. The seams were stretched and straining. She tilted her goblet to drain her wine. The bang at the door, jolted her, spilling Marwort Sherry down her arm like rills of blood.
Her gut twisting, she nodded at Meera. The girl dashed to the door and flung it wide.
Merritt marched in without even glancing at Meera. "Tell me it isn't true! Tell me you didn't...betray me!"
With a shaking hand, she set her goblet down. "I had to say something, Merri." Her voice wobbled. "I thought...I thought if I told him I wasn't a virgin..." She shook her head, unable to go on. "I was wrong."
"I knew it!" He thrust his chest out and gave a curt nod. "I knew you wouldn't do that to me!"
She filled her goblet with more wine and drank deeply. "Did you come to bid me farewell?"
"No." His gaze was alert, the happy drunk from earlier long gone. "Tell me your plan. I know you have a plan."
She sighed into her goblet. "You sound so sure."
"Yes, your pretty head is always cooking something up—I can see the steam pouring out your ears even now."
Pain throbbed in the back of her throat. "That's because I'm furious."
Merritt grasped her hands and held them tight. "Good! Good. Hold on to that fury—it will serve you in the coming days. Now tell me the plan. I want to help."
"Aren't you scared of my mother?" The words choked out and she tried not to cry. "Aren't you afraid of the High Lady's reprisals should she find out?"
"I am a Marwort! And you are now one, too! We stand alone and we stand strong!" His chest expanded further as he spoke his family motto.
Rowan nodded and glanced to her leather satchel. The one she'd sent Meera to the garden to fill. In hurried tones, she told Merritt her plan. A plan forged in fear and tempered with resolute anger. Thus it was an imperfect plan, still in need of some honing to make it sharp. But Merritt nodded, listening intently. All the while, time rushed out the window, as though from a leaky cask, taking her courage with it, drop by drop. She felt empty and cold as she finished expounding the plan for him.
"Good," he murmured, glancing at the door as though Thrax himself might burst in and try to stop them. "And you're sure it'll work."
"It has to." But only the gods could be sure. "I don't have time to think up another."
Maybe the scheme was pure madness, but all she knew for certain was that she had to have something to cling to. Even a mad hope. She couldn't just go forth like a useless puppet, letting her mother and Thrax pull all the strings. It's why her marriage to Merritt was so important to her—as it had been to her late father—she knew Merritt would never do anything against her will. He loved her. They were a good match. They were equals, and he never made her feel lesser than himself.
"Elgret has made a grave mistake tonight." Merritt kissed her white knuckles. "My mother is even now writing to my uncle. I'm going to call in every favor, call on every ally, and make sure we get you back home."
"And then what?" she asked. "My mother will just force me back to Carthyrk." Back to Thrax.
"No! You belong to me! You're my wife and I protect what's mine." He tried to kiss her, but she turned her cheek and pulled away.
"That sounds a little too possessive, Merri." She stalked to the window.
Meera stood by the door, her ear planted against the wood listening for eavesdroppers.
She looked out over the dark waters of the snaking Jorg and the dusky mountain range far to the northeast. All the shadows that lay before her. Her fingers were fidgeting with her thumb ring, her gaze faraway. "If my plan succeeds and I make it back on my own, I need to be sure the gate is extended. I need to be sure my mother won't retaliate and bar my entry."
"She won't!"
"How can you be sure, Merri?"
"Because I mean to overthrow her!"
She whirled around, her gaze rounding. "What?"
He glanced back at the door and lowered his voice. "Will you stand with me? At my side. My...claim to West Gate will be...more legitimate if I'm husband to a Throneblood heir." His brow furrowed as he strode to the window to join her. "Elgret doesn't deserve your fealty. She's thrown you to the wolves, Rowan! Literally. Stand with me, I love you! I will make you safe and happy."
Rowan swallowed. How had a simple wedding devolved into such a black stain? He was asking her to plot against her own mother. But wasn't she doing that already? The plan she'd cooked up to escape Carthyrk and return home made her as much an apostate as Merritt.
"Listen to me, dear heart," he whispered, grasping her hands again, "you must do whatever it takes to escape the wargs." He wet his lips. "On the night of the full moon, I will be standing on the bridge. I will wait until dawn. I will wait all the next day if that's what it takes. Do not worry about your mother, for my uncle will deal with her!"
"Your uncle is a wine merchant," she scoffed, wiping furiously at her tears. Rich, to be sure, but still...
"A wine king!" he retorted angrily. "His vintages run in the veins of every noble Wrasian from West Gate to East! You know this. I'm practically royalty!"
Her lips thinned.
"The king will listen to my uncle. He'll see to it that I'm made High Lord of West Gate and you will never have to see another warg bastard ever again!"
She gulped a small breath, hating the tears that boiled behind her eyes. "What...what if Thrax...rapes me?"
"I will love you regardless!" He said it with such vehemence that she nearly cried.
Trembling, she pulled off the wedding band and pressed it into his hand. "What if I don't escape Carthyrk?"
"As indefatigable as you are?" he scoffed.
"I'm serious Merritt."
He held her firmly, his voice steady as his fingers closed around the gold band. "Then I will march the Prefect himself and all his cohort into the outland to find you." He held her gaze and she stared back without blinking. "Make no mistake, Rowan, you will wear this ring again."
"Milady," Meera whisper shouted. "Someone's coming!"
She gasped when another knocked shook the door. Merritt held her in a fierce hug and then released her as the door swung wide. Elgret stood glaring at them.
Merritt gave her hands a last squeeze, gave a stiff nod, and stormed out without a word to the High Lady. His retreating steps were drowned out by the tolling bells. Rowan's hour was up.
"It's time," said her mother coldly.