“That is the key to finding what you need, Synthia; remember it always. Please remember that our sacrifice was not in vain, for you lived. You carry us with you and you will always keep us alive. In here,” she touched my heart. “Never forget us. Remember, we loved you more than life, so when it became a choice, we made the right one. We have no regrets and you shouldn’t either.”
I woke crying, this time. Screw sleep; that shit wasn’t working for me. I sat up and walked to the window and tried to open them, but they wouldn’t budge. I was freaking locked in! I paced the room angrily. I was replaying Ryder’s, and then my mother’s, conversation in my head. In less than twelve hours, I’d be gifted to none other than the Horde King.
I was glad to find that I wasn’t walking around half naked and that I was still in the long black nightgown I’d glamoured on before bed and not the pink baby-doll nightie from my dream. I went back to the large window and looked out again. Was Ryder out there even now, searching for me? Or was he planning to kill the Horde King outright to claim me? He’d given me to Adam, basically on a fucking platter. But that had been to save his world, and now I wasn’t the Light Heir, so it had to be off the table…right? He couldn’t scale the walls and save me and then hand me off to another man.
Right?
Maybe?
Dammit!
I was still pacing when Adaryn sifted into the room. Wearing all black. I jumped into a fighting pose and leveled a mean glare at him, for which he laughed.
“Relax. I just came to check on you. My room is next door, and you’re a loud walker.”
“Is that so?” I asked.
“Come, you were not the only one who couldn’t sleep,” he said.
I wrapped my arms around my chest and glamoured on a long black skirt, and a matching long sleeve knit top, since the chill of my dreams had seeped in to my bones. I walked with him down to a large room where the rest of my family were sitting and talking already.
We sat for hours with them asking me about my previous life that we didn’t get to talk about yet, and me doing the same. It was sorta comforting knowing they were semi-normal. They argued like siblings and even our parents butted in with a snarky comment here and there. They had what I had pined for after my guardians had been killed.
The time came to prepare and the palace was a flurry of activity. Spells for peace were being written in blood on the walls by artisans as weapons were being sharpened by the men at arms. They were planning for an attack, or, maybe they were planning against one. It was all happening so fast.
If Ryder couldn’t get me out of this, I still knew he would eventually find the cure for Faery, and, with it, our worlds would be saved. I’d escaped one life, to another of which was way worse. One I wouldn’t walk away from. I’d actually felt torn and awkward at the thought of marrying Adam, but now facing the Horde King, it seemed almost insane to have complained about it at all.
I couldn’t get a break, nor could I get away from my family to see if Ryder was here to save me. I wanted to cry and scream at the unfairness of it all. But what good would it do? McKenna’s had pride, and it might be my downfall, but I’d get through this somehow. Ryder would make it; had promised he would get me out of this. For the first time in my life, I felt like a damsel in distress waiting for her prince Charming.
If Prince Charming didn’t come, I was probably going to kill the Horde King, or die trying…I was leaning toward the whole ‘die trying’ part.
Chapter Forty Three
I was dressed in an elegant light blue gown; one that had a slit to the waist, and a crisscross bodice that sat low enough to show off the top cleavage of my breasts. My mother wept while she brushed my hair for the last time. She continued to brush it until it looked as if it was made from the same silky soft material of the dress. Silver torques of royalty had been placed on my biceps, while one with a blood-red ruby in the center was secured to my neck as the other was removed. I was asked to hold still so that the painter could paint the outlines of my brands with the small paintbrush that had crimson colored paint on the tip.
“She will paint them, so he knows who you are, and of what blood you were born of,” my mother explained.
It took over an hour of being prepared, before my mother had me slip on the small flat sandals that tied up to my calves. No one spoke as the time grew closer. Everyone in the room was acting more like this was a mourning procession than a gifting ceremony…whatever the hell that was. It wasn’t until a translucent veil was placed over my hair, and the silver circlet secured over the veil on my head that I allowed myself to exhale a shuddering breath.