No Man Can Tame Read online

  Did Papà neglect to mention that he hadn’t agreed to the marriage until she’d offered the Vow?

  She nodded.

  His hiss punctuated the quiet, and his companion hissed, too. Their eyes turned hard, fierce, like those of lions ready to pounce. He’d hidden his hands—his claws—and who knew what they would do?

  Shivering, she took a step back. But if he disliked the Vow of Silence, then he wasn’t as bad as Papà. Maybe even reasonable.

  He looked her over and relaxed his posture, revealed his hands from behind his back and let them fall to his sides.

  Her gaze fixed on them, on their sharp claws, until he inclined his head.

  “There are preparations before the ceremony tomorrow,” he said, his voice wooden. “I take my leave, Your Highness. Good day to you.”

  She matched his gesture, and with that, the Royal Guard escorted him and his companion toward the palazzo.

  Still as stone, she stood, watching until they disappeared inside and the doors closed.

  “My lady?” Gabriella rested gentle fingers on her forearm.

  Another shiver wove through her. Her heart pounded, so hard and so fast that surely Gabriella heard.

  “Come, my lady. Let’s get you inside.” Gabriella took her arm and led her in the opposite direction, toward another entrance into the palazzo.

  She walked alongside her lady-in-waiting, but the surroundings were a blur. Those eerie eyes. Sharp claws. Pointed fangs. Slate skin. Steely velvet voice. Ghostly hair. The way he hissed, the lithe way he moved—

  Trembling, she shook her head, shook out her hands. There was no choice. Unless she married him tomorrow, Papà would not keep his end of the agreement either. She had to, or else Bianca would.

  Finally, Gabriella helped her into a suede armchair next to a large, mysterious box, and within moments, Bianca sprang away from where she’d been looking out the window, with a swath of sapphire brocade skirts trailing as she ran and laid her head in Aless’s lap.

  “I’m so sorry!” Bianca cried, taking her hand.

  Aless stroked her hair softly and dismissed Gabriella with a wave of her hand.

  “You’re really going through with it?” Bianca’s voice broke.

  She had to. Kind-hearted, daydreaming Bianca could never handle a marriage to a dark-elf, but she could, for her sister’s sake.

  “Come on, Aless,” Bianca urged, nudging her. “Never mind the Vow. Speak to me. Please.”

  After Bianca’s wedding, they’d be parted; Bianca would go to Roccalano, and she would go to Nightbloom. The idea of spending most of their remaining time in silence was… painful.

  She sighed. Well, she had only promised Papà she wouldn’t speak to her… fiancé. “I… will go through with the wedding.”

  Bianca raised her head, frowned, and sat back on her haunches. “What do you mean? Is there another way?”

  There might be. She’d go through with the wedding in Bellanzole as promised, because it was required for Bianca’s sake. For her sister, she would marry him. For three days, she would endure—whatever she would have to endure—and then she would witness Bianca’s wedding to her beloved Luciano. Bianca and Luciano were both human, and once they consummated their human marriage, their bond would be unbreakable. But after that?

  She would do more good for peace bridging the cultural divide and teaching than being kept as some trophy in a cave. Even if Veron didn’t approve of the Vow of Silence, she could never be one of the dark-elf women, those who truly held power in Nightbloom. She’d just be… a token.

  “After this wedding, there’s still the second ceremony in Nightbloom before this agreement is sealed. I’m going to use the time in between to try to convince him we don’t need to be married for there to be peace between our nations. I’m sure he doesn’t want to marry a human any more than I want to marry a dark-elf.”

  Meeting the prince today… Yes, he’d been intimidating, but he’d also been well spoken, polite—considerate, even. “Maybe he’ll listen.”

  In fact, she had the perfect wedding gift for him: her new copy of A Modern History of Silen. She still had Mamma’s copy, and the parallel gift would have meaning. It would show her willingness to share this new world with him and his people, and to welcome them as a part of it as he filled the remaining pages with the peace she hoped their people would forge together.

  With him on her side, they might convince Papà and the Queen of Nightbloom to reconsider. She and Veron could still act as ambassadors of peace, as friends, demonstrating that relations between their people could be good. Maybe she could suggest the library as a joint venture, earning goodwill for the dark-elves from the paesani.

  Bianca sniffed, blinking away tears. She swabbed her face with the sleeve of her sapphire frock. “And if he doesn’t listen?”

  After their wedding here, Papà had said they were set to go on a Royal Progress throughout Silen to Nightbloom to present their harmonious union and inspire peace among the paesani, the nobiltà, and the dark-elves. There would be plenty of time to develop a contingency plan.

  She shrugged. “I’ll find a way.”

  Bianca looked away, her eyebrows drawn, and bit her lip. “Luciano told me that Tarquin is an influential member of the Brotherhood, hoping to find justice for Arabella. With their help, and the Belmonte Company, your freedom can be assured.”

  The Brotherhood? Tarquin was involved with that hateful group? What he had said about the Immortali… A corruption that must be eradicated from the kingdom.

  No, he wasn’t like her at all. He was one of them. The Brotherhood.

  Shortly after the Rift, the Brotherhood had come together to “advance human interests.” Somehow “advancing human interests” always seemed to involve violence against the Immortali. For every perceived injury to humans, the Brotherhood retaliated twofold. Thankfully the Immortali seemed less prone to such violence, as no such faction had emerged on their side—that she knew of. “But Luciano isn’t a member?”

  Bianca shook her head.

  “Good. Anyone involved with the Brotherhood has sunk too deeply into hatred.” As much as she didn’t want to go through with this marriage, she didn’t bear the prince, or the other dark-elves, any ill will. There was no way she’d work with the Brotherhood. Ever.

  “But they’d liberate you in a heartbeat—”

  “No.” She took Bianca’s hand. “I appreciate your care, but I’ll think of something.” She smiled. “Don’t worry about me. Let your only concern be your wedding, your honeymoon, your happiness.”

  “How can I think about that?” Bianca’s smooth brow creased.

  “That’s why I’ve done all this. So you must be happy. Promise me.” With any luck, she and the dark-elf prince would achieve peace through alternate means, both be free of each other and this arrangement, and Bianca would get to stay with the man she loved.

  Bianca’s lovely agate eyes hardened, and she gave a determined nod. “I promise.” Her gaze lowered. “But what about your library? Maybe Papà will still help?”

  There had been no hope of that earlier either; she knew that now.

  But she wouldn’t give up. She’d never give up. Books had been Mamma’s life and had changed her own, given her companionship and escape when the Sileni court and even Papà himself had been ruthless in their treatment of her, of a useless pawn. Books had power, the power to defeat hopelessness with escape, ignorance with enlightenment, fear with knowledge. And she wanted every person to have access to that power, to harness it, for peace, understanding, and better lives.

  And they would have it, just as Mamma had wished before she’d died.

  Maybe a Terran shrine would take her in. A High Priest or Silen’s Paladin Grand Cordon himself—Sir Massimo de’ Nunzio—could hear her out about wanting to build a library, to care for their paesani. The Order of Terra was known in Silen for its dedication to charity and peace; Nunzio would hear her out. He would. And the Order, so instrumental in forging pea
ce, would no doubt be open to letting the dark-elves take part in the venture.

  Veron seemed like a reasonable man. Maybe he’d support the idea to his mother.

  “I’ll find another way,” she said to Bianca. “I have all the plans finished. It’s only a matter of finding the right investor.” And the Order would have the funds. Maybe she could send the library plans ahead to Nunzio and meet with him in Stroppiata during the Royal Progress to discuss it. But Papà would have her correspondence watched.

  “Luciano and I could help.” Bianca perked up. “We could write to wealthy potential investors, find someone who’s interested.”

  Her mail would be watched… but Bianca’s? Luciano’s?

  “I’d love your help. I’d like you to send something for me, if you could.”

  Bianca nodded. “Of course.”

  Later tonight, she’d have Gabriella deliver the plans to Bianca with instructions.

  “Oh! Your gown arrived.” Bianca darted toward the large, mysterious box and opened a flap. “It’s bittersweet, Aless, but the gown is at least beautiful.”

  Papà had been planning to marry her off for years, and no doubt the gown had taken almost as long to make. “I won’t be needing it.”

  Bianca’s mouth fell open. “But… Then what will you wear?”

  Oh, she’d given plenty of thought to that over the past few days. When Mamma had given her A Modern History of Silen, she’d written inside, Be brave, my rose, and fill the remaining pages with your deeds.

  I will, Mamma.

  Fortunately, her bellani d’oro were still good with some of her dressmakers. The ones who didn’t fear Papà. “I will wear my thoughts, Bianca.”

  Papà had bargained them away like chattels—in this day and age. Let the signori know exactly what I think about that.

  After pulling off his boots—these new ones still didn’t fit right—Veron paced the dim bedchamber barefoot. Silence. They’d silenced her. He rubbed his chin. “Why? Why would she be expected to swear such a vow?”

  Gavri shrugged at her post in the doorway next to Riza. “Perhaps her voice is like claws on limestone. Or perhaps she’s a twit, and her father doesn’t want you to find out.”

  He snarled. “That is my soon-to-be bride you are insulting.” His gaze locked with hers in the lengthy silence before she looked away.

  He drew aside the heavy window drapes and peered into the courtyard. A storm. Dark clouds had shrouded the heavens, and the world below darkened with them; heavy drops pelted the lush green leaves, the grass, the stone walkways and benches. Umbrella pines swayed in the unrelenting wind. The sky realm changed with the hour.

  It was hard to get a fix on Princess Alessandra’s personality. What mattered to her? What did she enjoy doing? What did she think? Her wide eyes had answered none of those questions. Their meeting had only revealed her fear and the troubling notion of her silence.

  “You suspect she is unwilling,” Riza said quietly.

  He did more than suspect.

  “What?” Gavri snapped. “Prince Veron is an exemplary—”

  “She’s a human, Gavri,” Riza shot back, earning a groan from Gavri. “They see things differently.”

  Princess Alessandra was unwilling. What else could possibly be so damaging that would require a vow of silence? “I came here believing that my bride had agreed to this.”

  Gavri grunted. “This human king substituted one daughter for the other. Perhaps there is some defect she would otherwise confess to you, if not for this vow.”

  King Macario had explained that, much to his embarrassment, Princess Bianca was in love with another man and making the Offering to—marrying—him, but that Princess Alessandra was equally beautiful, willing, and younger. Humans prized the youth of their brides—more childbearing years.

  “No, the king swore Princess Alessandra was healthy, fertile, not with child, and willing.” Before the meeting, it truly hadn’t mattered to him which human bride he had to—as they called it—“marry,” as long as she had agreed and was honest. There had been no reason for him to interfere with a love match.

  Riza stood taller, raising her chin slightly. “With all due respect, Your Highness, even if she is unwilling, does it matter? Queen Zara gave you her orders.”

  Thunder rolled, then lightning flashed white into the room.

  “Does it really matter what the human wants?” Gavri added.

  He stiffened and glared at them. By Deep and Darkness, of course it mattered. He was bound to obey Mati’s orders, but not without care.

  And yet both Riza and Gavri seemed to be in agreement. He forced himself to relax.

  “Duty must supersede honor, Your Highness.” Riza clenched her vjernost blade’s pommel. “Sometimes, to save thousands, one must be sacrificed.”

  Gavri nodded, her brows drawn.

  The peace. How many dark-elves and humans had died to this conflict? And how many more would?

  Their parents had already sacrificed him and Alessandra for the sake of those lives. Could he do the same? The Brotherhood’s attacks had to end. The famine had to end. If he wavered now, how could he return and look Vadiha—and Dita—in the eye?

  His duty was to Nozva Rozkveta, its queen, and its people. All else came after. Riza and Gavri were right. Even if Princess Alessandra was unwilling, his hands were tied. As were hers.

  But there would be two ceremonies. If he was right about everything, then there would be the entirety of the Royal Progress back to Nozva Rozkveta for him to elicit her assent. They had to marry, but whatever her fears were, he could allay them. If she could never see him as a lover, Princess Alessandra could live her life as she wished, to the best standard he could deliver, and he could live his. A practical arrangement.

  He could never defy Mati’s orders, so he would find a way to persuade Princess Alessandra on the way to Nozva Rozkveta.

  He heaved a sigh. The hunting stand in a storm only seemed more and more appealing as the days went by. “I’m going to bed.”

  “Sweet dreams, Your Highness.” The corner of Riza’s mouth twitched—a grin, for her at least.

  Gavri eyed her with an impish grin and puffed a breath, blowing a wisp of hair off her face.

  They both well knew he’d barely get in a wink. At least with this on his conscience.

  But he rounded the canopied bed, out of their line of sight, and undressed, then parted the bed curtains and settled in. The soft mattress yielded under his weight, and he stretched out, curling an arm behind his head. It had been a long time since he’d slept in a human bed. They were far more luxurious and intricate than the practical dark-elf beds, but he missed the pleasing give of moss filling and the coolness of plant-fiber bedding. No doubt Princess Alessandra would prefer something like this instead—he’d have to arrange one for her.

  Everything in Nozva Rozkveta was prized for its practical value. He’d have to explain that to her. An Offering—a wedding—celebrated not just a union, but what each partner could offer the other. And he’d been raised his entire life to become a person of worth: a capable hunter, swordsman, archer, and rider; well educated; strong, honorable, and valorous. A prince Mati could trade confidently when the time came.

  And the time had come.

  Tomorrow, he would make his Offering to Princess Alessandra of Silen. He’d never been to a human wedding, but they wore armor, carried weapons, and rode horses everywhere else, so weddings were no exception, right?

  Chapter 4

  Aless dismissed all her servants from the private chambers outside the nave of L’Abbazia Reale. She smoothed the wrinkles from her wedding gown, yards of Pryndonian white lace and intricate pearl beading. It was a gorgeous gown, one any happy bride would eagerly wear down the aisle.

  Any happy bride.

  She paced the gray rug, whipping the gown’s train about her. No matter what happened afterward, today she would be officially married. Even if she could persuade Veron not to complete the second ceremony in Nig
htbloom, they would always be married by Sileni law.

  But if they didn’t live as husband and wife, that wouldn’t matter, would it? And it wasn’t as though she’d need to remarry for love. As long as the Paladin Grand Cordon could help her see the library built, as long as she could teach there, she didn’t need a thing more.

  This would all work out. Terra willing, everything would go as planned.

  Tradition had ruled over so many lives, including her own, for long enough, and other voices had chosen for her. Maybe standing up to that today, even a little, would make a difference.

  Yes, she would marry Prince Veron and she wouldn’t destroy the peace, but she would speak her mind on it, in the only way left to her. Papà may have given her no other meaningful choice, but she still had this.

  A soft rap came to the door, then one more. She opened it. “Bianca.”

  Bianca gave her a wide-eyed look, her mouth falling open, then cleared her throat and hastily waved in two servants with a trunk.

  “Were you seen?” After they entered, Aless glanced out into the hall, left and right, but no one else was about other than the Royal Guard. Good. No one to tell Papà.

  “No.” Bianca nodded to the servants, who set down the trunk and left. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Of course. We have the dress ready and everything.” Aless pulled aside her hair and bared the lacing down her back. Bianca’s quick fingers began undoing all of Gabriella’s hard work.

  “I didn’t mean the wardrobe change.” Bianca pulled the last of the laces, and Aless slid the gown off her shoulders, stepped out of it, and threw open the trunk.

  Blood red.

  Smiling, she took out the gown and handed it to Bianca, who helped her pull it over her head without disheveling her hair.

  “I told you I’m doing this for you.” Aless slipped her arms over the bust line, and Bianca began lacing the back and then rearranged the tulle netting carefully. The bodice fit like a glove, and the skirts flared out in dramatic fashion, with a ten-foot train worthy of a princess.