Xander tightened his grip on the arm of the throne to keep his fingers from tapping. The scratching of woodgrain against his left palm kept him grounded even as his heart continued to pound.
Today, he was going to meet his mate.
Today, he would prove to the world that his people had not lost favor with the gods.
Today, he was going to give the House of Whispers a win.
Because he’d been matched.
Yesterday evening, Rafe had stormed into the raven guest quarters, grunting rather than speaking, eyes almost bleeding red, fists curled, all because he hadn’t won. Going into the second day of tests, he’d had the clear lead, but the dove prince caught him during the strategy games, and they’d ended the trials with a tie. But someone had to have first pick, and a son of Aethios would win that privilege every time. The committee had given Rafe the second male and third overall pick of mate, which despite his temper tantrum, was more than the House of Whispers had even dreamed to attain. But that wasn’t why Xander was smiling, why his heart thudded in his chest, why his eyes snapped toward the princess currently entering the room.
A letter had arrived late in the night—a message from the House of Wisdom.
Their princess had accepted his offer.
Rafe had looked relieved that all his efforts hadn’t ended in failure. Xander had been too shaken to pay attention to the remaining anxiety in his brother’s gaze. All his muscles had relaxed and he’d wobbled on unsteady feet until his mother gripped his shoulders, pride bright in her eyes. Her emotion spurred him back to life. A wave of energy coursed through him like a strong portion of hummingbird nectar, making him light and airy, more buoyant than he could ever remember feeling, as though even without wings he could have floated into the sky.
And now she was here.
Coralee, Xander thought, watching as she flew down the entrance hall with the House of Wisdom, wings the color of raw honey, glowing like the dawn as the sun shone through them. Her amber feathers against the white silk of her dress was a living embodiment of the two colors of her house.
He couldn’t wait to show Coralee his library. It would be nothing, he assumed, compared to the wondrous place where she’d grown up, but perhaps it would provide her with a small sense of home, so his house wouldn’t seem so strange, so foreign. And the maps, too. For a small island, they had a vast collection of maps—ones he used to study for days and days while Rafe practiced more physical pursuits. But Xander had always preferred the crisp shade of a reading room to swordplay under the hot summer sun, and the touch of rough parchment to a smooth leather hilt. The dusty smell of old books, though not always the most fragrant, was home, and he had a feeling Coralee would think the same.
He’d had a dream the night before, of the two of them sitting side by side next to a fire on a cold winter night, swapping a volume back and forth, each taking turns reading a chapter aloud, her voice a lullaby in the dark. And maybe that was all it would ever be, a dream, but he hoped not. He wanted more than just a match. He wanted a mate.
“Welcome,” the King of the House of Peace boomed.
Xander started, pulled from his thoughts. Coralee was watching him too, a small smile on her lips as though she found him amusing. He dropped his gaze, embarrassed that she’d caught him in the act of staring. The king continued to speak, but Xander couldn’t for the life of him listen, especially as his focus was drawn to his right hand by the questions swirling in the back of his mind.
Would the princess continue to be amused when she realized she’d been duped?
Or would she hate him for lying?
Would she understand the necessity of the trick he’d pulled?
Or would she turn from him forever?
Did she want Rafe, the warrior?
Or would she be satisfied with him instead?
As he examined his hand, for a moment even he thought it was real. They’d sewn a glove to the sleeve of his jacket and stuffed it with soft clay, so it had the weight and suppleness of a real hand, and the look of five fingers, though they couldn’t bend. But if he rested it on the chair, no one would ever know the ruse. When he stood to remove his mask, the game would be a bit more difficult to play, but Rafe had used a special knot Xander could tug free with one hand. The only noticeable difference between them was the color of his eyes, lavender instead of Rafe’s sky blue, but his brother assured him he’d kept his gaze on the ground most of the time, so hopefully no one would notice. If they did, perhaps they’d shrug it off as a trick of the light. Another hour, and the trials would be over. By morning, they’d be on their way home with a new princess in tow. He just had to get through this final ceremony. And then— And then— And then—
And then…what? Xander thought, shifting his weight in the seat, subtly moving his back muscles to stretch his wings. And then my mate will magically forgive me for starting our new lives with a lie? Will the gods really restore their favor after this, or will we be doomed?
The idea had been circulating in his brain ever since he’d conceived this plan, and it had been weighing more and more heavily these past few days. Watching Coralee now, Xander felt like a villain instead of the hero his people needed him to be.
We needed a win, he told himself.
We needed a match.
Taetanos needed a victory.
My god, my people, they needed this.
The excuses sounded emptier than they had been the day before. But maybe that was just because his eyes had found hers again, and for the first time he realized his future and his people’s futures weren’t the only ones that mattered.
A cheer filled the atrium.
Xander blinked, realizing the king had finished his speech. The matching ceremony had officially begun.
Pay attention now.
Don’t embarrass yourself or your house.
Not so close to the end.
The matches had been set the night before, through notes and messages passed back and forth between the royal families, but nothing was final until it was stated before the gods. Even the slightest error could ruin everything. There was no rule forcing Coralee to agree to the offer he would bestow, and maybe that was why his heart had behaved like a wild, untamable beast in his chest all morning. Part of him didn’t believe he was worthy, not when it was Rafe who had truly won her. Part of him expected her to say no.
Xander squeezed the wood beneath his left palm. In the folds of the clay hand on his right, his fingers curled tight, invisible but somehow so real he could feel them shake, so real his arm softly trembled.
The trial committee signaled to the dove prince, the male victor and winner of the first choice of mate. He stood from his throne and flew to the center of the atrium. After landing softly on the tile floor, he faced his people and bowed deeply, ashy wings fanning from side to side. Then he stood and lifted his hands to the back of his head to gently remove the mask, revealing his face to the crowd.
“I am Luka Aethionus, born of the god Aethios, Crown Prince of the House of Peace, and by my god’s favor, I have picked my mate, chosen for her speed and her stealth, for her grace and her charm, for the shrewd mind she displayed and the strong heart we all witnessed.”
The prince jumped, pumping his wings as he soared determinedly toward the House of Paradise, to no one’s surprise. Xander had spent the night discussing the matches with his mother, and they’d guessed the mate the dove prince would pick. Still, relief trickled through him when Luka flew in the opposite direction of the House of Wisdom. Xander would be next for the men, and his princess would be waiting.