So I Married a Sorcerer (The Embraced #2)(136)

“No,” Mador growled. “The real wedding is happening now.”

Trumpets sounded outside, and Lord Argus ran into the Great Hall. “A huge number of boats are moving incredibly fast up the Loure River. They’re almost here!”

Rupert was on his way. Brigitta’s heart raced. She only had to stall until he could arrive.

Mador seized her by the arm. “Great timing. I’ll marry you, then kill Seven.” She pulled away, but he grabbed her again. “Priest! Get started.”

“Very well.” The elderly priest hobbled slowly toward the dais.

“Quickly!” Mador shouted.

Gunther grabbed hold of the priest’s arm. “It’s all right, Father Bran. Take your time.”

“No, make it quick,” Mador argued.

Father Bran looked from the king to the general, then slowly stepped onto the dais and turned to face them. “Blessed be the Light and all who worship him. May he shine upon you—”

“Get on with it,” Mador ordered.

“As you wish.” The priest gave him a sour look. “Marriage is the sacred joining of two souls, so they can love and nurture each other throughout the years—”

“I need her to legitimize my claim to the throne,” Mador said, keeping his grip on Brigitta’s arm. “And I want her in my bed. Tonight.”

Father Bran cleared his throat. “There is that, too.”

Trumpets blasted outside once again, and the courtiers whispered excitedly to one another.

A soldier ran into the Great Hall. “Seven is coming! The townspeople welcomed him and escorted him to the palace. He blew away all the guards—”

“Hurry!” Mador yelled at the priest.

“No!” Brigitta struggled to escape his grip. “I don’t want to marry him.”

Father Bran frowned. “There seems to be a slight problem with the bride.”

“She’ll get over it,” Mador growled.

“I’ll throw myself off a balcony before I marry you!” Brigitta cried.

The priest shook his head. “Suicide is frowned upon by the church, my dear.”

“Is a forced marriage all right?” Brigitta asked, stalling for time.

Mador pulled a knife and pointed it at her neck. “Say we’re married, priest, so I can hunt down her lover and kill him.”

Father Bran blinked. “She has a lover?”

“Yes, she does,” Rupert announced as he marched into the room. He flung his arms open, and a blast of wind shot through the Great Hall, knocking everyone over and shattering all the windows and mirrors with a deafening explosion.

The courtiers screamed and huddled on the floor.

Brigitta scrambled away from the shifter. Rupert ran toward her, but before he could reach her, Mador seized her from behind and pointed his knife at her throat.

Rupert skidded to a halt. Stefan and Brody were behind him with a troop of armed seamen.

“Let her go,” Rupert warned Mador.

“He’s the Chameleon,” Brody said, drawing closer.

“You, again,” Mador growled.

“You won’t escape me this time.” Brody tore off his shirt and shifted into a dog, kicking away his breeches.

The courtiers screeched.

Brigitta stomped hard on the Chameleon’s foot while she grabbed his fingers and yanked them back. The Chameleon hissed in pain, loosening his grip enough that she could pull away.

“Dammit, I’ll kill you.” He made a grab for her.

“No!” Gunther jumped on the shifter, and the two men rolled about on the floor until the Chameleon reared up and stabbed Gunther in the chest. He stood, dropping the bloody knife onto the marble floor.

The courtiers screamed.

Rupert and his men ran toward the Chameleon.

“Damn you!” The Chameleon ripped off his shirt as he ran for a window. He shifted into an eagle and soared through the opening.

Brody shifted into an eagle and flew after him.

“Dammit!” Rupert yelled.

Brigitta fell to her knees beside her brother. He was trembling, his face pale and sweating. Blood seeped from his wound, coloring his golden tunic red.

“Gunther.” Brigitta placed her hands over his wound to try to stop the blood.

He hissed in a breath. “You were right. I should have trusted you.”

“Don’t talk. Save your strength.”

He grimaced. “I think I’m going to die.”

“No, you won’t! I won’t let you.” Brigitta’s eyes filled with tears. “You saved me.”

Gunther snorted. “Well, I had to, didn’t I? You’re my sister. And my heir.” He looked around. “Argus, did you hear that? She’s my heir!”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Lord Argus fell to his knees, sniffling.

“What are you doing, man?” Rupert said. “Get a physician here fast!”

“Oh.” Argus scrambled to his feet. “Yes, of course.” He scurried away, yelling orders.

Rupert removed his cape and folded it up. Then he knelt on the other side of Gunther. “Here, let me.”

Brigitta removed her hands and let Rupert press the folded wool against Gunther’s wound.

“Damn you, Seven,” Gunther grumbled. “Why are you acting like you want to save me? You’ll just have to kill me later when you take the throne.”