Kai tuned out Levana’s voice, examining their bound wrists instead. Was the ribbon around his wrist growing tighter? His fingers were beginning to tingle with numbness. He was losing circulation. But the ribbon curled innocently against his skin.
Stars above, it was warm in here.
“… and I vow to love and cherish him for all our days.”
Kai snorted. Loudly.
He’d meant for it to be kept inside, but it just slipped out.
Levana tensed and the officiant speared him with a sharp look.
Kai coughed in an attempt to smooth over the moment. “Sorry. There was something in my—” He coughed again.
Terse wrinkles formed around Kamin’s mouth as she turned back to the queen. “Your Royal Majesty, do you hereby accept the terms of marriage set forth before you on this day, as both the rules of matrimony between two beings and also as the bond that will henceforth be forged between Luna and the Eastern Commonwealth, resulting in the political alliance of these two ent.i.ties? If you accept, say ‘I do.’”
“I do.” Levana’s voice was clear and sweet and sent a thousand piercing needles into Kai’s chest.
His head was throbbing. From exhaustion, from disbelief, from misery.
“Your Imperial Majesty, do you hereby accept the terms of marriage set forth before you on this day, as both the rules of matrimony between two beings and also as the bond that will henceforth be forged between the Eastern Commonwealth and Luna, resulting in the political alliance of these two ent.i.ties? If you accept, say ‘I do.’”
He blinked at Prime Minister Kamin.
His heart was pulsating against his ribs, and her words were hollow echoes in his hollow head, and he had only to open his mouth and say I do and the wedding would be over and Levana would be his wife.
But his lips would not open.
I don’t.
The muscles flexed in the prime minister’s jaw. Her gaze hardened, prompting.
I can’t.
He felt the hush of a thousand guests bearing down on him. He imagined Torin and President Vargas and Queen Camilla and all the others, watching, waiting. He pictured all of Levana’s guards and thaumaturges and that smug Aimery Park and a thousand vain, ignorant aristocrats hanging on his silence.
He knew Levana could force him to say the words, but she didn’t. Though he imagined a blast of icy air rolling off her with each pa.s.sing second, she waited with all the others.
Kai pried open his lips, but his tongue was heavy as iron.
The officiant inhaled a patient breath and cast a worried glance to the queen, before fixating on Kai again. Her expression grew nervous.
Kai looked down at the scissors she’d used to cut the ribbons.
He moved fast, before he could question himself. His unbound hand shot forward, s.n.a.t.c.hing the scissors off the altar. Blood rushed in his ears as he spun toward Levana, arm raised, and plunged the scissors toward her heart.
Cinder cried out, her arms flying up in defense. The point of the scissors sliced through the fabric of her elbow-length gloves before coming to a swift halt, pressed into the silver bodice of her ball gown. Kai’s arm trembled with the effort to push through the control, but his hand was now carved from stone. Breath ragged, he looked up into Cinder’s face. She looked like she had at the ball, in her tattered dress and stained gloves, her damp hair tumbling around her face. The only difference was the blue ribbon tying them together and, now, a single slit cut into the silk of her gloves.
Slowly, like mola.s.ses, blood began to seep through that cut, staining the fabric.
Cinder—no, Levana—saw the blooming cut and snarled. Her hold on Kai snapped and he stumbled back. The scissors clattered to the floor, ringing with a tone of finality.
“You dare to threaten me here?” Levana hissed, and though she tried to mimic Cinder’s voice, Kai could tell the difference. “In front of both our kingdoms?”
Kai’s attention was still on the blood leaking from her wounded arm.
He had done it. For a moment, he had gotten through the glamour, through the manipulation. It wasn’t much, but he had actually hurt her.
“It wasn’t meant to be a threat,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed.
“We both know you intend to kill me the moment I’m no longer useful to you. I thought it was fair to let you know the feeling is mutual.”
Levana glared, and it was unnerving to see such hatred on Cinder’s face.
Vibrating with adrenaline, Kai looked back at the audience. Most of their guests were on their feet, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Near the front, Torin looked like he was ready to hurtle himself over two rows of seats to be at Kai’s side the instant he was needed.
Kai held his gaze long enough, he hoped, to convey that he was all right. He had hurt her, Kai wanted to say. It was possible to hurt her. Which meant it was possible to kill her.
Setting his jaw, Kai turned back to face Prime Minister Kamin. She, too, was shaking, both hands gripping her portscreen.
“I do,” he said, listening to his own proclamation echo around the altar.
The officiant’s gaze darted between him and his bride, like she wasn’t sure if she should proceed or not. But then Levana straightened her wedding gown—or Cinder’s ball gown, as it was. Whatever reaction she was hoping to get from him by maintaining the glamour, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—give it to her.
When the silence had hovered for too long, Levana growled, “Get on with it then.”
Kamin gulped. “By the power given to me by the people of Earth, I do now p.r.o.nounce you … husband and wife.”