It hadn’t taken Hella long to realise that the women Ethyrian had summoned to take care of her weren’t servants.
They were part of his harem.
And they hated her.
They hadn’t said as much with words, but then actions always spoke loudest.
Hella grimaced and gritted her teeth as the one she assumed was the head mistress, a curvy and elegant white-haired female who might be a seelie, tugged the brush through her hair, yanking on her head and probably pulling great hanks out.
“You must be so excited,” a pretty young brunette said as she buffed Hella’s skin raw with a sponge, making her legs sting beneath the far-too-hot water in the large bathing pool.
“To be chosen to be queen. It is quite the honour.” A black-haired beauty with bright blue eyes jabbed Hella beneath her fingernails with a stick.
She snatched her hand back before the woman could torture her some more. “Really, all this fuss isn’t necessary.”
The mistress yanked on her hair again, her voice sweet. “Oh, but it is. What the king desires, is what the king is given. His orders were very clear.”
“I don’t think his orders entailed torturing me.” She fended off the female with the stick and nudged the brunette with her bare foot, pushing her away. “Really, I’m quite clean.”
She stood, trying not to be embarrassed as she rose from the water and the suds rolled down her naked skin. None of the trio tried to make her sit back down, which was a relief. She turned towards the steps out of the huge bathing pool, and the black-haired one took hold of her arm, gripping it just tightly enough that she left red marks on Hella’s skin when she had finished helping her up the steps and released her.
Hella was tempted to offer them a deal, but her gut said they wouldn’t take it. They clearly liked their positions within Ethyrian’s harem and while helping her escape would mean he didn’t have a queen to replace them with, it also meant they would probably be killed by him in a fit of rage.
The mistress led her into the adjoining bedroom, to a white dressing table that had a large mirror attached to it and a lot of jewellery laid out on the top.
Hella slumped into the chair and tried to be on her best behaviour as the white-haired female came to stand beside her and worked to undo her right cuff. She focused on her fingers as the shackle opened and fell away from her wrist. Not even the faintest tingle. The spell in the single remaining cuff was strong enough to keep her magic in check. So much for escaping that way.
The mistress reached for a wide silver cuff that had a cluster of teardrop sapphires arranged in a pattern in the centre of it and snapped it around Hella’s naked wrist. A weight instantly pressed down on her and she glared at the point where it fastened, watching the metal meld together into one seamless piece.
Fantastic. She now had fashionable restraints. Anyone who saw her shiny new bracelet would assume it was just jewellery and not a collar.
A way of changing who she was into something she didn’t want to be.
A powerless mortal.
Hella pulled her shit together and reminded herself that she had a plan and it was going to work. While the mistress was replacing her other shackle with a matching bracelet, she idly ran her fingers over the array of jewellery, pretending to be fascinated by how beautiful they were.
Which wasn’t difficult, because they were. Gold and diamond necklaces. Silver tiaras. Rings with every precious stone imaginable set into them. And hairpieces. She settled her fingers on an oval silver one and checked no one was watching before carefully slipping the long matching pin from it and tucking it into the four-inch cuff around her wrist.
The mistress finished fastening the one on Hella’s left wrist and set the shackles down on the top next to all the jewellery.
“I believe the diamonds would suit you best.” The woman reached for the necklace Hella had been admiring, picked it up and moved around her.
The youngest female gathered Hella’s blue hair up, allowing the mistress to secure the necklace around her throat, and Hella subtly checked the pin she had stolen was secure behind her cuff.
A hidden makeshift dagger she was going to use on her unwitting husband’s throat the moment he was alone with her.
She ran through her plan in her head as the women worked on styling her hair in countless curls that they then pinned high on the back of her head and affixed a silver tiara in front of the mass.
When they made her stand, she took to staring at her reflection as they dressed her, thankfully not in next to nothing like they were wearing. The sheer turquoise dress was far from something a witch should wear though. It gathered in layers over her chest, squashing her breasts together, forming a strapless corset. From her hips, the lengths of material flowed to her ankles at the front and trailed on the floor at her back, and none of them were stitched together. A stiff breeze was all it would take to flash everything at the guests.
And she meant everything.
“No underwear?” She cast a hopeful look at the mistress.
Who shook her head and continued lacing the silver filigree corset around Hella’s waist, one that pushed her breasts up and accentuated them even more, and was in danger of cutting off her air supply.
She had figured as much. Ethyrian wanted easy access to the goods, was clearly eager to make sure he crossed all the Ts and dotted all the Is as soon as possible. Heaven forbid she be allowed to have a little dignity today of all days.
Her wedding day.
Her stomach twisted.
She pressed her hand to it and stared at her reflection, not recognising herself.
All these years of wanting to wear something other than a black dress and now she ached to be back in one. She had never realised how big a part of her identity her black dresses were. Everyone who saw her in one knew she was a witch. With this dress and her magic bound, what was she?
A shadow of herself.
No.
She was someone else.
Ethyrian had effectively altered her into an entirely different person by using nothing more than a change of outfit and a pair of silver cuffs.
All these years of fighting against people who wanted to change her, clinging to what made her who she was, and now her worst fears had come true. She was no longer Hella. She clenched her fists. No. She was Hella. She was just Hella having a really bad day, one she was going to change as soon as she was able and then she would be back to her old self.
Although she wasn’t sure how to escape this realm, even if she did manage to escape Ethyrian.
If he had kept his promise, he had sealed the borders to MacKinnon and she suspected he had sealed them to her too. She mentally shrugged that off. One step at a time. She would deal with the problem of leaving this realm once she had dealt with Ethyrian.
“There. You are ready.” The mistress stepped back and all three of the women ran envious gazes over her.
Hella rotated left and then right, relieved to see that there were enough layers at the front of her dress to conceal the fact she was sans panties.
The youngest woman bent and slipped highly impractical shoes on Hella’s feet. The flat soles would have been fine if not for the fact the shoes were made of crystal and were cold as ice, and pinched like hell.
“Who am I, Cinderella?” She hitched her skirt and glared at the shoes, and realised something.
They probably weren’t glass.
They shone in the same way her diamond necklace did.
Mother earth, if she did manage to escape, she was taking all of this with her. She could pawn it off and be rich beyond her imagination.
“Come.” The mistress took hold of her arm and led her out of the room, through the palace and down to the ground floor.
Hella swallowed when she saw the towering gold doors ahead of her and tried to settle her racing heart. She checked her cuff again, making sure her hidden dagger was still in place. Sickness brewed in her stomach, but she had to do this.
Ethyrian would keep his word.
She hoped.
The doors opened, the classical music growing louder as they parted, and she fought the momentary urge to turn and bolt as fast as she could in the other direction as she stared at Ethyrian where he waited at the end of the aisle.
He stood in the middle of the dais, cutting a fine figure in a white tunic jacket that reached mid-thigh and had turquoise detailing on it, and matching dark teal trousers that hugged his legs, together with polished black and gold knee-high riding boots. His long blond hair had been drawn back behind his shoulders, and his crown was in place, the knotted band of gold bright in the candlelight.
He was handsome, but he was no MacKinnon.
Those striking blue eyes she had once admired were nothing compared to her wolf’s silver ones that told her everything he was feeling. Had he really betrayed her? Or had Godiva somehow worked a spell on him that she hadn’t been able to detect? It wasn’t like her to miss something like that, not when she had worked to be the best witch there was, one not easily fooled by a spell, but then she had been an emotional wreck. Focusing through the pain had been difficult and there was a chance, albeit a slight one since she was the best witch out there, that she had failed to detect a concealment spell.
She sighed and told herself that there was little point regretting her actions now.
Her future stood before her and she had made her decision, one that would hopefully keep MacKinnon safe.
Heads turned towards her, murmured comments lost on her as she gathered her courage.
And took her first step forwards.
Towards her doom.
The harem left her at the doors and as little as she liked them, being left to walk the entire length of the aisle alone was so daunting that she wished at least one of them had stayed with her. Everyone gawped at her as she passed them and she tilted her head up, squared her shoulders and clung to the tattered shreds of her courage.
Trying to look like a queen.
Failing dismally judging by a few looks she received from finely dressed women.
An electric shiver chased down her spine, lighting her up inside.
Hella glanced to her right.
Was stunned as she locked gazes with Kin.
Idiot.
Panic threatened to crush her fear and slay her courage, and she wasn’t sure where to look. She tried to keep her eyes away from him, but failed. His visage was dark as he tracked her, fury mounting in his molten gold eyes, and she worried part of him believed this wedding was her idea.
Even when she knew he might be an idiot, but he wasn’t that much of an idiot.
He could no doubt sense the fear in her and how desperate she was to escape. She turned her cheek to him as she passed him and willed him not to do anything reckless. She made it a handful of steps before she could no longer resist glancing back at him to make sure it really was him and not some figment of her desperate imagination.
His dark eyebrows knitted hard above his glowing golden eyes and his lips turned downwards, flashing a hint of fangs.
And gods, it really was him.
Here in Lucia again to rescue her.
Risking his life for her sake.
If she had needed proof that she had been wrong about him, he had just given it to her without even uttering a word.
When he looked as if he wanted to come to her, she subtly shook her head.
If Ethyrian had closed the borders as promised, then Kin was trapped here, and the moment the nymph realised he was in Lucia, he would be after her wolf’s head. She wasn’t sure what to do. The safest option was sticking to her original plan, but the way Kin’s gaze drilled into her back as she approached Ethyrian said that wasn’t going to happen. Her wolf was a ticking bomb, and sooner rather than later, he was going to explode.
The aisle gave way to the steps of the dais and Ethyrian extended his hand to her.
She needed to come up with a new plan and fast.
Hella tried to figure out what to do as she lifted her arm and reached for Ethyrian.
MacKinnon took it all out of her hands.
On a blood-curdling howl, he came barrelling down the aisle towards her.