Evil Twin by Kati Wilde

4

Bane

“I should have you killed,”Tamas said casually upon entering Bane’s quarters the next day as Bane was dressing for his wedding. “Not only for trying to steal my bride and Phaira’s crown, but to slay the monster you’ve become.”

Bane grunted an agreement. Tamas should kill him for his treachery. But his brother would have little success. Few warriors and guards in Gocea would attack Bane on the king’s orders. Instead Tamas would find that most of the warriors and guards were leaving the kingdom with him.

“Have you told your bride of the venom? Have you confessed that you are no longer fully human?”

His bride. Echo.

A smile curled his mouth. Clever, scheming Echo.

The lump of dread and remorse that had pained him so fiercely was gone. Because he’d deceived her—but she’d deceived him, too. His perfect match, in every respect.

Though not as eager to marry as he was.

Tamas scoffed at Bane’s continued silence. “The people call you a hero. Brainless sheep, all of them. They would look at you in horror if they knew what you’ve become.”

He’d become that horror while saving them. As had too many of his warriors.

And more people knew what Bane had become than Tamas realized. They called him a hero because of what he and his warriors suffered.

The only surprise was that Tamas had heard. Usually he paid no attention to the commoners. But the king had a few spies here and there. One might have told him of Bane’s affliction.

But his twin had no hold on him. Not that he’d ever had much of one, but now Tamas had nothing at all. The marriage settlements were signed, transferring rule of Crolum. As soon as Bane married Echo, he would be his own king.

And his brother could go fuck himself.

“Perhaps I should tell her myself,” Tamas mused.

Irritation clawed its way up his chest. Bane would tell her himself. One day. When it was absolutely necessary.

It was not absolutely necessary on his wedding day.

But once again, he said nothing. Ignoring his brother had always been the best way of making Tamas so infuriated that he’d leave Bane alone. Just as Tamas did now, muttering and slamming out of Bane’s quarters.

Bane glanced toward the sitting chamber, where Jorin had been waiting to speak with him. “Did you know of Princess Sapphira’s twin?”

Once a warrior who’d served under Bane in Gocea’s army, now Jorin would be captain of Bane’s royal guard. Steel gray in his hair declared his age. The scars of battle declared his experience. His ease with Bane declared how long they’d been friends.

“I did not.”

So they’d hidden her away like a dirty secret. Because of a few superstitious omens, they’d believed the worst of her. They’d said the worst of her. Bane had been so near to tearing out their throats as they spoke. Only the sight of her on that bed, back stiffened and chin lifted—yet looking so painfully vulnerable—had kept him where he was. At her side.

Where he would be from this day forward. “Is everything prepared?”

“The carriage can leave directly after the ceremony. You’ll have a full company of warriors to ride as your guard.” Amusement glinted in the older man’s eyes. “You’ll also have most of Gocea following you.”

“Not all at once, I hope?” And not only the warriors who’d served him. They’d also need farmers, millers, cobblers, bakers, innkeepers—people of every background and skill. Because Crolum wasn’t truly a wasteland. It was simply…empty.

But they’d fill the kingdom with life again.

Jorin shook his head. “Those who come will leave Gocea when it best suits them. I’ve urged warriors with family living in their home villages to join them and help them prepare to go. We expect most will wait until after the harvest.”

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 heldin 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,” Echo said. 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.”

His swollen face nearing purple, the choking king managed to dip his head.

“Then stand back and shut your shit-slopping mouth.”

A shove sent King Robard stumbling into the arms of his wailing wife and daughter. Bane heard the king gasping for air and the terrified exclamations of the courtiers but didn’t spare them a glance. His eyes were on Echo, who was staring up at him with an expression of such admiration and respect that Bane knew the memory of the sight would warm him for the rest of his life.

A life he wanted to begin. To the priestess he said, “Start over. I will say my vows again so that my bride knows how very deeply I mean them—and so everyone around us understands that she is under my protection, and that I will not hesitate to kill them if they dare insult her again.”

Sudden, uneasy silence fell over the hall. Echo smiled up at him.

He said his vows again. She said hers—though when the priestess announced them married, Echo turned her face so that Bane kissed her cheek instead of her lips.

But no matter. She was his. And they had a long ride ahead of them.

Quietly he asked, “Do you wish to stay for the wedding feast?”

Her baleful gaze swept over her cowering family. “No.”

“Then we leave.”

To seal their vows, their hands had to remain bound until dawn. With their beribboned fingers entwined, Bane led Echo out of the great hall, where Jorin waited.

“See that a basket of food is sent to the carriage,” Bane told him. They continued toward the courtyard, where their escort stood. He frowned as Echo began to tug at the ribbon tied around their hands. “Let that be.”

“Why? You do not truly want to be married to me.”

“I do.”

She scoffed before narrowing a suspicious look at his face. “Why?”

“I told you,” he said as they neared the carriage. “I intend to make you fall in love with me.”

Her expression closed. Jaw tight, she turned her face away.

He was not discouraged. Bane had not defeated the undying scourge in a single day, either. He would win her heart.

Beginning now. “I’ll lift you up.”

“What?”

“Into the carriage.”

She rolled her eyes and climbed in under her own power.