So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)

“Thank you. And speaking of the winner, I would feel more comfortable if I were to marry him before…”

“Bedding him?” Gunther smirked. “If it makes it easier for you to fornicate, by all means, say a few useless vows in front of a priest. But if you don’t get pregnant in six months, the marriage will be annulled, and you’ll be reciting your vows to the second-place winner.”

“I understand.”

“Good.” He sat behind his table and drank some wine. “I’ll have my physician concoct a tonic for you to ensure you give birth to a boy. You’ll start taking it tonight in preparation for the winner’s seed.”

She winced inwardly. The winner had better be Rupert. And that tonic would be poured down a privy hole. “I also wanted to ask you about the clause at the bottom of the notice, the one stating that the loser of each round would be executed.”

“That is not negotiable.” Gunther refilled his goblet. “I can’t have a bunch of sore losers roaming about the country, whining and stirring up trouble. Better to just kill them.”

A royal ass, for sure. She cleared her throat. “Yes, but I was hoping you could delay the executions? Perhaps do them all together at the end of the competition?”

He snorted. “You want a mass execution on the day of your wedding?”

She shrugged. “It would be very dramatic, don’t you think? Everyone would always remember my wedding.”

His mouth curled into an actual smile. “You sound like a Grian, after all. Welcome home, sister.”

She returned his smile. If all went well, she would marry Rupert, her brother would be imprisoned, and the losers of the contest would be pardoned when Rupert took the throne.

*

They left for Lourdon at noon, then arrived at the palace the following evening. Over the next three days, Brigitta was not allowed to leave her suite of rooms at Lourdon Palace. Her brother had meant what he’d said about her not being seen in a gown from Eberon. At least her prison was spacious and beautifully furnished, and Sister Fallyn was allowed to sleep in a small room that adjoined her suite.

Brody roamed freely about the castle with other dogs, listening in on conversations and bringing back information to Brigitta. Her brother was busy finishing renovations to the stadium. The plain wooden benches for the public were receiving a new coat of varnish. Meanwhile, the royal box was being encased in gold. A blue velvet canopy with golden fringe would stretch overhead, while blue velvet curtains would surround them on three sides. Two huge chairs were being upholstered with cloth of gold.

Brigitta was assigned a secretary named Hilda, an older woman with beady eyes who watched her like a hawk. Brody confirmed that everything Brigitta did and said in Hilda’s presence was passed on to the king. Not that there was much to report, since Brigitta was kept so isolated.

Each day, a small army of seamstresses was hard at work in a room across the hall from Brigitta’s suite. She only saw them when they came over for fittings, and Hilda was always there, watching them.

The seamstresses had completed seven capes for Brigitta before she’d even arrived at Lourdon Palace. Since the capes were voluminous, the seamstresses hadn’t needed her measurements. But now that she had arrived, they were in a rush to finish seven gowns to match the capes.

Bored out of her mind, Brigitta had begged the seamstresses to allow her to help. She and Sister Fallyn had made their simple gowns at the convent, so even though they didn’t know how to produce anything fancy, they were capable of simple tasks such as hemming skirts.

On the third day, around noontime, Hilda brought over two seamstresses for the final fitting of the fifth gown. This one was midnight-blue silk embroidered with gold thread. Each gown had gold in it somewhere. Brigitta suspected her brother had selected all the fabric, for he was strangely obsessed with gold.

While the two seamstresses, Norah and Marthe, helped Brigitta into the new gown, she motioned to the empty pitcher on the nearby table. “I’ve completely run out of wine. Would you mind bringing me some more, Hilda?”

With a frown, the older woman peered inside the pitcher. “You drank it all already?”

Actually, she’d poured half of it down the privy hole when Hilda had gone to check on the seamstresses an hour earlier. “I was thirsty. And I’m hungry, too. All these fittings wear me out. Could you bring us some food? Please?”

Hilda huffed. “Very well.” She gave the seamstresses a stern look as she headed for the door. “No gossiping. Stay on task.”

“Whew.” Brigitta heaved a sigh when Hilda the spy left. At last she could fish for some information. Of course there was no guarantee that the seamstresses weren’t spies, too. Even the guards outside the door were probably listening. Good goddesses, she was becoming paranoid. She would have to do her fishing very carefully. “I hope the contestants will like this gown.”

“Oh, I’m sure they will.” Marthe tugged at the laces on the back of the bodice. “You look beautiful in it.”

“I can’t believe the competition begins tomorrow morning,” Brigitta continued. Shouldn’t Rupert be arriving soon? “I’m so looking forward to it.”

Sister Fallyn exchanged a look with her, then continued hemming a white silk shift. “I heard there are six contestants.”

“That’s what I heard.” Norah knelt on the floor to pin the hem of the skirt. “But only the first three matter. They’re the king’s favorites. No one will be able to defeat them.”

Brigitta tugged at the bodice, wishing the neckline wasn’t cut so low. “They must be very strong.”

“Oh, yes,” Marthe agreed. “The first one is the captain of the king’s personal guard.”

“Oh, you mean Captain Mador?” Brigitta feigned a smile. “I’ve met him. Who are the others?”

“The second one is the head general,” Norah replied as she worked her way around the skirt. “And the third one is the admiral of the king’s navy.”

“Then who are the other three contestants?” Brigitta asked.

Marthe waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about them. I heard the king doesn’t even want to acknowledge their names. So all the men will be given numbers during the competition. It’s supposed to keep it anonymous and fair, but of course, everyone knows who the first three are. The last three will simply be Four, Five, and Six.”

“I see.” Brigitta drew a deep breath. So when Rupert arrived, he would be called Seven. And just as the Telling Stones had predicted, she would have seven suitors vying for her hand. “I know the other contestants can’t win, but I can’t help but be curious about them. After all, they’re risking their lives.”

Norah nodded. “They must be very brave.”

Sister Fallyn shook her head. “Or foolish.”