ELIJAH WAS DUE TO ARRIVE AT ANY MOMENT, AND BLYTHE WAS STILL far from
convinced that she and Aris were going to pull this off.
All night her thoughts wandered to every way Elijah might realize their deceit, and what he would do once he did.
Would he try to bring Blythe back to Thorn Grove? Would Aris protest by using his magic against her father, manipulating Elijah’s mind?
She felt ill at the thought.
Having been banished to sleep well before either her room or the surrounding town had been consumed by Aris’s magic, Blythe had roused not on her slab of stone, but in a proper four-poster bed canopied by cream linen. The sheets were plush and pleasant, made of earthy shades of green and amber.
When she peeled back the canopy, it was to a gloriously rich room with dark mahogany flooring and a thick Persian rug that promised warmth for her bare toes. Her walls held the loveliest wallpaper with delicate imagery of thin golden branches adorned with perched birds. Her headboard was a deep autumnal green, embroidered with hellebore. It was a stately room, and delicately feminine in a way she found quite lovely.
The best part, though, was that she was not seized with cold as she drew herself from the sheets, despite the brightness of the snow that glimmered through a gap in the curtains. She hurried to pull them aside and take in a lawn covered with powder so thick that Blythe could see nothing but whiteness and the shine of Aris’s golden threads woven as far as the eye could see.
Wherever Aris had taken them was a far cry from her hometown.
When a knock sounded at her door, Blythe drew on her robe. “Come in!”
The young woman who entered wasn’t at all who Blythe expected. Her black hair was sleek and polished, and she carried the scent of freesia upon her skin. She had a sharp jaw and held herself with the grace of a noble in a fitted gown of emerald. She smiled at Blythe before curtsying.
“Good morning, Your Highness,” said the woman. “Shall I help ready you for the day?”
Blythe grabbed on to her bedpost, faint when she realized this was no random woman. She was a lady-in-waiting.
For a long while Blythe could only stare, her tongue numb and useless. She and Aris had discussed the need for people, yes, but Blythe hadn’t expected she’d ever have the privilege of a lady’s maid, let alone a lady-in- waiting. How nice it would be to dress without struggling with every testy button and frivolous ribbon.
“You absolutely may,” Blythe practically sang, beginning to disrobe in haste. Perhaps she was too hasty, however, for the woman’s large brown eyes blinked in surprise as Blythe pulled on her stockings. “May I have your name?”
The woman smiled as she helped Blythe into a fresh chemise. “It’s Olivia Wheaton, Your Highness.” She had a low, graceful voice thick with an accent Blythe didn’t recognize.
Blythe repeated her name aloud, beyond pleased to have not only one of the most remarkable bedrooms she’d ever seen, but also to have another woman to share the space with. What Blythe liked best, though, was that Olivia did not feel as though she was deeply influenced by Aris’s magic. Her eyes were warm and kind rather than hollowed out like his usual puppets. While he’d undoubtedly cast some sort of glamour on Olivia’s mind, Blythe wondered what the extent of that was and whether Aris was decent enough to actually hire staff.
Olivia put her into a thick wool dress lined with white fur and gloves as blue as sapphires, and Blythe wondered whether Elijah would see a healthy, thriving princess when he looked upon her. Or would he see someone who had just spent their first night in a proper bed after two full weeks of marriage? In the end, Blythe decided it didn’t at all matter what she wore,
for the true test would be proving to her father that she had a proper relationship with Aris. That they were truly husband and wife, working together to rule a kingdom as a united front.
The very thought had anxious laughter brewing within her. Her stomach knotted, yet there was no choice but to swallow those nerves as Olivia finished pinning her hair into mesmerizing plaits unlike any Blythe had ever seen. She wondered what country they were in and could only hope that Aris would have picked somewhere remote enough for her father not to recognize.
“His Highness has asked that you join him for breakfast,” Olivia said in her gentle brogue, waiting for Blythe to join her before she paved the way down the hall. It was fortunate that Olivia knew where she was going, for more of the palace’s layout had changed overnight. Blythe skimmed her fingers along the frosted railings as they wound their way down the stairs.
How odd a place this was. Odd but mesmerizing and every bit as exuberant as she might expect from a palace that had birthed a prince with Aris’s insufferable ego.
Blythe kept quiet as Olivia steered her toward the dining room, where a giant table of frosted glass waited for her. Her husband stood on the opposite side in a coat of deep crimson and gloves trimmed with gold, and he wasn’t alone.
A familiar couple sat at the table beside Aris, both of them donning warm smiles. It took Blythe a moment to place them as the pair who’d pretended to be Aris’s parents at the wedding.
Their smiles made her skin itch. Blythe hated that she hadn’t the faintest clue where they were from, just as she hated that she and Aris were once again using them for their own benefit.
Still, they seemed happy enough, and Aris had made it perfectly clear that should she voice even a hint of discontentment, this charade would be over. So she forced her own smile when the woman who played Aris’s mother looked at her fondly, as though she and Blythe had spent a great deal of time together. The woman patted the seat beside her, and Blythe flashed Aris an anxious look before taking it.
“Are you going to be able to play along?” he asked between sips of his coffee. “Or do you require my hand to control you, too?”
“Touch me with your magic and I will burn down all of Wisteria with
you in it,” Blythe said sweetly as three servants appeared with a strange assortment of food—cold fish and boiled eggs that were too small to be from a chicken. There were plump gooseberries, and warm potatoes mashed with vegetables. It wasn’t like any breakfast she was used to, though given that Aris was eating it, she didn’t doubt its quality.
She allowed the servants to set the food before her, and sure enough, Blythe nearly melted into a puddle of satisfaction at her first taste. What a blessing it was that she hadn’t told her father that the food in Verena was foul.
“Don’t worry about me,” she said as she helped herself to a heaping of gooseberries. “I’ll manage just fine.”
He waited for whipped honey to arrive before spreading it onto steaming sourdough. “I’m glad to hear it, because your father’s here.”
There came a knock on the silver double doors not even a second after Aris had spoken. A portly gentleman who reminded Blythe vaguely of Warwick stepped inside, bowed, and announced, “Mr. Elijah Hawthorne has arrived.”
Sure enough, her father strolled in, his luggage and coat abandoned. He looked every bit like a man who had spent several days traveling by train and coach, haggard and with a shadow of blond stubble along his jaw. His eyes, however, were alight with twin flames as they flicked to Blythe. She was on her feet before her body even registered the movement, crossing the floor to throw her arms around him.
Her body sagged with relief as Elijah laughed, embracing her with a tight squeeze before gently easing away to inspect her. His gaze narrowed at the meticulous plaited coif of her hair, skimming down to her cheeks before finally settling on her eyes.
“I’m glad to see you,” he whispered, clasping her once on the shoulder before turning his attention to the royals behind her. “And thank you all for having me. I’ve only seen it through the carriage window, but already Verena seems to be quite the spectacle, as is your beautiful home.”
There was an edge of ruefulness to his words that Blythe couldn’t help but smirk at. She wondered what jokes Elijah would crack about the grandeur of the palace once the two of them were alone. Not that he had much room to talk, given the oddness of Thorn Grove’s architecture.
“It’s our pleasure to have you,” said the woman at the table. The queen,
Blythe supposed. Blythe might have thought to better introduce her, though she hadn’t the faintest idea what the woman’s name was. As if able to see the struggle on her face, Aris pushed from the table with a quiet creak.
“I know you met briefly at the wedding, but allow me to reintroduce my mother, Queen Marie Dryden. And my father, King Charles Dryden.” It was a wonder how much Aris was able to manipulate the minds of these people, for the king only bobbed his head. He looked a touch put off by Elijah’s presence, eager to return to his feast. Blythe wondered what the man might be like without the facade that Aris had cast on his mind. Would he be as disinterested as Aris portrayed him, or might he be a kind man, always attentive? She supposed she’d never know.
“We’re glad to have you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Aris continued, drawing Blythe’s interest with his pleasantries. Was it in her mind, or was he somehow standing even taller than usual? He was making a ghastly amount of eye contact with her father, too, all charm and poise as he offered Elijah a seat.
Her father took it at once, scooping a fork into his hand. “I have eaten nothing but trolley cart food for days,” he said. “Blythe tells me that the meals here are spectacular.”
There was an edge to Elijah’s voice when he said it, almost like an accusation. While Aris smiled, she was certain from the glint in his eyes that he’d noticed it. “Please, help yourself.”
Elijah accepted that offer liberally. He took food from every dish laid out on the table, sitting comfortably in his chair as if he were the king of this establishment. Had such gall not been so impressive—and had these people not all been under a spell that would wipe their memory the moment Blythe and Aris no longer required them—Blythe might have been embarrassed. She could tell from the way Elijah pressed the cold fish to his tongue that he was disappointed. Even the fish was every bit as delicious as she’d promised him in her letter.
He sampled several more bites between fielding questions about what he’d been up to—enjoying retirement—and if he had any exciting upcoming plans—“Catching up on years’ worth of sleep and hobbies”— before wiping his lips with his handkerchief and leaning back in his chair. “The food is wonderful, though I fear that my body is wearier than I realized.”
“I could have someone show you to your room,” Aris offered, though Elijah cut him off with a swift wave.
“That won’t be necessary. I was thinking a stroll around Verena might be enough to wake me up.” Elijah gave his leg a tap. “These old bones haven’t seen nearly enough use in days.”
Blythe slid Aris a sideways glance. While he may have managed to make the palace spectacular, she had no idea the limits of his illusions or how entrenched in his magic this town was. But if Aris was worried, he showed no hint of it. Adjusting his gloves, Aris matched Elijah’s smile and stood. “I would be happy to accompany you. My dear wife is still learning how to navigate the town.”
Not one to be left out, Blythe stood. Apparently too fast, however, as her heart was beating so furiously that she saw stars and had to take a moment to grip the edge of the table. “I will join as well,” she told them, not about to leave Aris alone with her father.
As Aris excused himself from the table, he went to Blythe’s side to offer his arm. Only when he gave a quiet clearing of his throat did she realize that she was meant to take it. She nearly pounced on him then, looping her arm through his with such fervor that his lips thinned.
“I’m doing my part,” he whispered, the words soft as a breath against her ear. “Now gather your wits and do yours.”
“Forgive me if I’m alarmed by your behavior. I didn’t know you were capable of being a gentleman,” she hissed as they made their way through the palace, flocked by attentive servants. Blythe was assaulted by a sharp gust of wind as two of them pulled open the ornate double doors onto the front lawn. The wind carried the scent of fresh pine and baking dough, and Blythe breathed deeply before she glanced up to glistening hills of snow and the bustling city that awaited them.
 |
Verena was a town plucked from the pages of a storybook.
At first Blythe wondered if it was one of Aris’s illusions, for surely no place could be so charming. But the deeper they traveled into a city built
atop a giant canal and witnessed its rosy-faced denizens strolling the streets bundled in thick furs, the more she realized that this place was no illusion.
Meticulously maintained boats traversed through channels of the canal, carrying people who seemed unbothered by the plunging temperature. They bustled about as normal despite the iciness that wound its fingers around Blythe’s throat and squeezed tight. Each person who caught sight of her and Aris either bowed or dipped into a low curtsy while Aris pressed onward, flashing friendly smiles and nods. He looked every bit like a poised and dignified prince admired by his subjects—a role, Blythe couldn’t help but think, that Aris embodied with great pleasure.
Blythe and Elijah followed close behind him, the latter scrutinizing everything from the streets to the faces of those who passed by. Blythe left him be, too distracted by Verena’s beauty to be responsible for reining in her father’s skepticism. She doubted that he’d find anything; Verena was far too real, and far too breathtaking. If not for the millions of gossamer threads that wove throughout the town and around every person they passed, Blythe might have truly believed that Aris was a prince and that she was the future queen of the most magical land, where the buildings were made of cheerfully colored stone and sharpened with twisting spires. The melodic tune of an accordion floated through the streets, and all of it was so wondrous that Blythe would have squealed if not for the fact that she had to pretend she was already familiar with such a mystical place.
She sneaked a glance at Elijah, satisfied by his flattened expression as he took in the sights. Considering that he was not scowling, Blythe knew he was impressed.
“Are you up for a tour of the city?” Aris posed the question to Elijah. It hadn’t escaped Blythe’s notice that he was dressed finer than she had ever seen, or that he was cognizant of Elijah’s every step, searching for anything her father might need before he could voice it. Seconds after Elijah squinted at the glaring sun, a cloud passed over it, shading his face.
It was a subtle action, one that Blythe was certain Aris would never assume she’d notice. But she did notice and was quick to smother her smile, worried it might embarrass her husband. She more than welcomed the change from Aris’s typical behavior; before the eyes of her father, he was the perfect gentleman.
He helped Elijah into a small wooden boat, then extended his hand for
Blythe. She took it gingerly, forever surprised by the warmth of his touch and the heat that shuddered through her as her fingers folded around his and she allowed herself to be pulled in. There was barely enough room for the three of them to squeeze in tight behind a gondolier who wore a uniform different from the others Blythe had seen rowing by—a white coat with a golden insignia of a fox surrounded by hellebore. A palace gondolier, then.
She nearly laughed, impressed by Aris’s thoroughness.
Wedged between him and her father, Blythe watched the kingdom stretch before them—gabled buildings with snowcapped roofs lined the canal, where tiny dustings of snowflakes glittered before melting into the water. Massive horses with thick tufts pulled immaculate carriages through plowed cobblestone streets, the melody of their huffing blending with the accordion and easing something in her chest.
This city was alive in a way that filled Blythe with a longing that burned to her very core. She watched as people flocked to a street vendor who poured cups of chocolate so thick and dark that Blythe’s mouth at once began to water. She must have been staring, for the tendrils of her father’s breath slipped into the air as he laughed.
“Is it good?” he asked, but it was Aris who answered, already waving for the gondolier to glide them over.
“Blythe hasn’t tried it yet, but that man makes the best chocolate in the country.” Aris had the same eager gleam in his eyes as he’d had when he’d begun crafting Verena the night prior. Such a raw expression could not only be for her father’s benefit, and Blythe felt her cheeks warm as she watched Aris bolt to his feet before the boat had come to a stop.
“Wait here,” he told them, swaying a little before he leapt onto the streets. The boat tipped, and Blythe clutched the edge as Aris hurried to the vendor. One look at him and all others bowed their heads, quick to greet him with friendly words that the alleged prince matched.
The vendor was a frail, older man with deep wrinkles set around kind eyes that brightened when Aris approached. His hands trembled as they poured three cups of the steaming chocolate, though he grinned from ear to ear and shook Aris’s hands with great excitement. He tried to send Aris away without charge, but Blythe was glad to see the golden coin that glinted in the vendor’s palm when Aris pulled away from shaking the man’s hand.
Chocolate was a small thing to share with someone, and yet Aris had
never looked more radiant. It seemed he was far more drawn to humans than he’d ever admit, especially those who were skilled or clever, or turned their passion into a finely honed craft. Blythe drew her hands back from the edge of the boat, wiping away the dampness on her gloves as she mulled that thought over. She wasn’t quite certain what to do with the knowledge, let alone the pattering of her heart.
Aris carried three overflowing cups back to the boat, careful not to spill a drop as he handed the first to Blythe, then one to Elijah. He took his seat, but rather than immediately take a sip of his own, he cast Blythe and her father a sideways stare. Blythe pretended not to notice how eager he was for them to taste it.
She, for one, didn’t need any encouragement. Blythe lifted the cup to her lips and let herself melt as the chocolate poured down her tongue, thick and richer than she’d ever tasted. Its heat spread through her belly, filling her with a pleasant warmth. Elijah must have been pleased as well, for while he chose not to admit it aloud, his chocolate was already halfway gone by the time Blythe turned to him.
“This place is not at all like I envisioned,” Elijah said eventually, interrupting the comfortable quiet that had blossomed between the three of them. It was likely as close to a compliment as Aris would get from him.
“Nor is it what I envisioned,” Blythe admitted. “It’s so much better.” Perhaps it was more than just the chocolate that had her so warm, more content on this cramped boat in an unfamiliar town than she’d felt in ages. The gondolier steered them farther down the canal and beneath a bridge so low that Blythe reached up to brush her palm against its worn stone, filled with such joy that her eyes grew hot.
How was it that a place like this existed in the world without her ever knowing? And how many more places like this were there, just waiting for her to discover?
Blythe held her cup close, hoping to always remember the joy she felt in that moment. The way her world had become so much grander that day, and how eager she was to explore it.
“Thank you,” she whispered, smiling to herself when Aris’s spine stiffened. His eyes darted away from her, and when he spoke it was with his lips an inch away from his drink, its steam against his face.
“It’s only chocolate,” he said before sipping. She might have specified
that it was much, much more than that, but Blythe got the feeling he already knew.
“It’s certainly beautiful,” Elijah acknowledged. “But what are the neighboring countries like? How are your relations?”
Blythe nearly swatted her father on the arm. God forbid she truly had married a prince. Surely one would have believed her father a menace cut from poor cloth. Fortunately, Aris maintained his good-natured attitude with a laugh.
“I assure you that Verena is at peace and its people are happy. Your daughter is safe, Mr. Hawthorne. She’ll always be well taken care of.”
When the corners of Elijah’s eyes creased, Blythe almost felt guilty. It was clear that he wanted to believe there was more to this story than he was being told, but there wasn’t a way for him to prove anything. Aris was being as kind as he was poised. Verena was thriving, and at every turn its adoring denizens threw hellebore into the canal as they passed. The food was delicious, and Blythe… well, frankly Blythe wasn’t certain that her eyes hadn’t turned starry. She wanted to see what this place looked like at night, with hazy golden lights glowing from the windows of snowy streets. She wanted to see it in the spring, when the flowers were blooming, and in the heat of the summer when a splash of the canal’s water against her skin would be a welcome delight. Aris had taken her to a place with magic in its bones, and she never wanted to leave.
Elijah, it seemed, could sense this. He set one hand on Blythe’s shoulder as he used the other to lift his cup so he could polish off the remaining dregs of his hot chocolate. “She does seem happy,” he admitted with words so soft they were meant only for her.
A smile cracked Blythe’s lips as she leaned her shoulder against his. “You don’t have to worry for me,” she told him, though it didn’t stop Elijah from snorting as he took her gloved hand in his and patted it softly.
“I will always worry for you,” he said. “How are you faring in this weather? Are you staying healthy?”
While the question might have been silly to someone else, Blythe understood what he was truly asking. Less than a year had passed since she’d been on her deathbed. As improved as she was, it was no secret that Blythe was smaller than she ought to have been, still slowly putting weight back on. Her muscles, too, had atrophied during her illness but had shown
much improvement over the months thanks to routine walks and horseback rides on Mitra.
Still, she was tired. The stone bed and Wisteria’s cold had been doing her no favors, and while her coughing had been a little better the past few days, she’d awoken weak and with her nose stuffy. And then there were the visions.…
Aris tried to steal a glance at her, likely thinking of her spell from the night prior. Blythe looked purposefully at her father.
“I’m well, and that’s how I intend to stay for a very long time,” she told Elijah, speaking each word with such finality that they had no choice but to be the truth. Blythe rested her head against his shoulder, watching as Verena faded behind them and the glistening silver of the palace came back into view. Bodies were strange and sometimes frustrating things, but her slow recovery would not be enough to soil her spirits. Not today.
“And how are you?” she asked when she couldn’t spare another second considering all the oddities she’d been seeing. “How are things back at Thorn Grove?”
She hadn’t missed how Elijah had ignored this question in his last letter, nor how his face tightened even then. “All will be well, Blythe. It always is.”
It was far from a favorable answer. Her heart spiked, though Elijah’s avoidance of her eyes told her not to press. At least not yet. She’d have time to pry the information from him before he left.
Blythe hadn’t realized the boat was slowing until it came to a stop. She could have drifted through the canals for hours if it were up to her. But the gondolier’s labored breaths and the sweat on his brow suggested he was exhausted, and the temperature was beginning to drop to an uncomfortable level.
“Here.” Aris shrugged off his coat and draped it over Blythe’s shoulders as she shivered. She froze, unsure how to respond until she noticed Elijah watching. Forcing a smile, she pulled the coat tighter around herself.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice tinged with nerves. Aris gave a curt nod before stepping out of the boat, one foot on the dock and the other bracing the boat to close the gap. He helped Elijah out first, then, with his lips pressed into a thin line, extended a hand to Blythe. Her gaze flicked to his hand, wary.
“My hand won’t bite, love,” he said in a flat tone that Blythe had come to recognize as his attempt at politeness. He flexed his fingers, encouraging her to take it. But before she could, Elijah stepped beside Aris and clasped his shoulder.
“You don’t have to come in on my account,” Elijah said. “If I try to sit through dinner, I’ll fall asleep on my plate. But I can see you both off. Surely there must be something around here that you do for fun?”
Blythe slid Aris a sideways glance, unnerved by his easy smile. To his credit, he didn’t appear at all unprepared.
“A brilliant idea, Mr. Hawthorne,” Aris said as he took Blythe’s hand and hauled her off the boat. “I know just the thing.”
