Bane nodded and glanced at the mirror. No more court robes. No more deception. He would marry his bride as the man he truly was—a warrior who’d seen and done too much. Still, he ought to come to her with a little more shine and polish. He could do little about his old leathers, worn and mended as they were. But he buffed a bit of armor with his sleeve until the metal gleamed.
A muffled snort drew his gaze back to Jorin. The older man was laughing at him. “You’re primping for her?”
Bane’s face heated. But he didn’t deny it.
“She must be precious to you already.”
“She is.”
“And you’ve met her…one time?”
One perfect time.
Jorin laughed all the harder at Bane’s besotted grin. “Is she making the same moonstruck face in the mirror that you are?”
His expression became grim. Probably not. Echo was angry, not besotted.
“Well, then,” Jorin said, slapping Bane’s shoulder. “You’ll have to court her. Most men win a bride’s affections before a wedding; you’ll just do it after.”
Win her affections. He wanted nothing more. “How do I go about it?”
He’d never seen Jorin at a loss for an answer before. The man had a strategy for everything. But now he frowned. “Well…give her flowers. Tell her how pretty she is. And lift her up.”
“Lift her up?”
Bane would raise her as high as he could. Higher than a queen.
“That’s right,” Jorin said, seeming to find steadier footing. “Pick her up in your arms. Carry her around. Women like that.”
Echo had liked it when he’d lifted her and carried her to the bed. And Bane liked the feel of her in his arms. So he’d enjoy courting her.
But first he needed to marry her.
The wedding was held in the great hall with only Echo’s parents, her sister, and a few courtiers in attendance. Tamas didn’t bother to come, which was just as well.
Only one person truly mattered.
Dressed in a confection of white silk, Bane’s angry bride faced him and slapped her small hand into place against his. Joy thrummed through his blood when the priestess wound a red ribbon through their fingers, beginning the ceremony.
Echo glared at him as if imagining the ribbon tightening around his throat.
How could he have ever mistaken her for Sapphira? Even in a darkened room? His only excuse was that he hadn’t known Sapphira had a twin—or even a sister—so the possibility hadn’t occurred to him.
But he would never mistake them for each other again. Not even in full darkness. Not even if Echo again pretended to be Sapphira, wearing that wide-eyed and vapid mask. It would be akin to mistaking a yipping puppy for a ravening wolf. Mistaking a muddy puddle for a storm-swept sea. A candle flame for a lightning bolt.
And as he pledged himself to Echo and vowed to be her faithful husband, the cunning gleam in her eyes told Bane that he hadn’t won yet. That she planned something, even now. Likely a scheme to escape their marriage.
She could scheme. She could escape.
But he would chase after her.
The priestess looked to his bride. “Echo, Princess of Phaira—do you pledge yourself to this man and vow to be his faithful wife?”
“Do I?” Her eyebrow arched, and he made another silent vow to kiss that defiant smile from her lips later this day. “I suppose that I must—”
“She must also vow to obey him,” King Robard demanded, stepping closer and staring at the priestess over their joined hands. “Add it to the pledge.”
Echo’s face hardened to stone. “No.”
“General Bane, you must insist,” her father said over her flat refusal. “You’ll be dead in a day if she takes your kingdom for herself. But despite the scheming duplicity that is part of her nature, she keeps her word once it is given.”
And despite the rage that was part of his nature, Bane had kept silent the previous evening as her family exposed themselves as superstitious fools. No good would it have done to express his anger when they might have forbidden the marriage.
But now he’d said his vows. The settlements were signed.
She was his.
Though his bride did not yet agree.
“I will not make any such vow.” With her free hand, she began picking at the ribbon laced between their fingers.
Trying to loosen it. Trying to get free.
Bane stopped her simply by curling his fingers between hers, locking the ribbon in place.
Her furious gaze shot to his. “I will not vow to obey,” she hissed.
Yet she would have vowed to be his faithful wife. Before her father had interrupted.
That king was still interrupting. “There are spells and charms to make her compliant—”
Bane’s arm shot out and he snatched King Robard by the throat, choking him into silence. Hauling the fool off his feet, Bane ground out each word directly into the king’s reddening face. “Understand this. Echo is my wife and my queen. Continue as you are, and you will find my army at your border again, but not to save you from a nightmare. I will be your nightmare. So from this day forward, take care how you think of her. Take care how you look at her. And above all, take care how you speak of her, because upon one more insulting word, I will rip apart both you and your wife for slandering Echo’s name and her nature. The only reason you live now is because I intend to take her far enough away that your stupidity can never touch her again. Nod if you understand.”