The next morning came sooner with none the wiser of what happened last night. Or if the coven had seen something, like our tent most probably glowing like the sun, they didn't mention it as we prepared to leave.

Prince Terrence was with Baba, overlooking the pegasuses and guards for departure while I hunted down Margherita.

She was near the bonfire, collecting ashes with other girls when I strode toward her.

"We need to talk," I said, my voice was a calm facade considering the others overlooking our exchange.

"There's nothing to talk," she said, never looking up from her bamboo ash bucket.

"I-" I breathed to even my rising voice and gritted my teeth. "I want to speak to my cousin before leaving."

"I'm busy." Was her drawled response.

My fingers fisted my tunic. "Not even if it's your coven daughter demanding your attention?"

The other girls widened their gaze as Margherita froze.

I couldn't blame them, though. I had never used my title to order around anyone. Not before today.

Margherita let out a harsh breath and sprang up to her feet.

"Alright, girls, guess I'm out. The royal bride of Ravendale demands my attention."

Before I could speak, Margherita brushed past me, shoving my shoulder in the process.

I sighed, meeting the sad eyes of the girls, and turned around to follow my cousin.

We walked on the outskirts of the tent border, in a small clearing near the surrounding dry gray forest.

An eagle shrieked over our heads as I stopped before Margherita.

"Talk." She crossed her arms, looking away.

"Why were you eavesdropping on us last night?"

"I was curious. Not that it's new. You used to have fun listening around newlyweds tents too."

"Yes, I did. We did."

It was a tradition among the youngsters of the coven. The one that used to be innocent fun now made me feel guilty as I finally realized the importance of a newlywed's privacy.

"But I never conspired to keep their drapes open," my voice was sharp.

Margherita didn't flinch, didn't meet my eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you over-perfumed our tent, Margherita? Didn't you know it makes me feel suffocate or did you wish to kill me?"

She snorted. "No one dies inhaling a little perfume. You're just a pussy."

I ignored the sharp pang of hurt. "So, you admit doing it."

"I admit nothing. It was an honest mistake if it ever was."

Unbelievable.

I shook my head. "Margi, you know you are a good liar. But you've never been able to hide from me so don't try now. I'm asking you one last time and if you trying to lie, I'd have to inform the matter to Coven Father."

"You'd snitch to your baba for a false accusation?" She sneered, finally meeting my gaze.

"It is not false if the danger was true."

"Danger?" She laughed mirthlessly. "The real danger is that wretched blue you married!"

My breath hitched.

Margherita continued. "Ever since you agreed to marry him you changed overnight. Your goals, your beliefs, your own damn self changed overnight!"

I couldn't speak. I couldn't breathe. This wasn't real.

"It's like you couldn't resist the golden opportunity of escaping this cursed pothole that is our coven and live in riches. You've become a selfish, freaking bitch-"

"That's enough."

My head snapped to the cold boom of my husband.

Prince Terrence was standing away from us like an imposing apprentice of death. Calm. Collected. Cold.

Margherita gulped down whatever venom she was about to spit next and jerked her head away from us.

I was still recovering from the trance of her poisonous darts. My breathing had trouble evening. My throat clogged and burned as I struggled to gulp down the tears.

My Margi... My cousin... She thought I was greedy... I was selfish... I was a bi-

I bit back a choke and suddenly found the world closing in around me. I didn't know I was staggering until a steady pair of hands held my shoulders from the back and I was aware of the wild beating of his heart inside me. Panic and fury that didn't seem my own flowed through my veins and dissolved with the budding coil of heavy pressure in me.

"Margherita, is it?" Prince Terrence's calm voice flowed over my head. "You are indeed entitled to name your cousin as you see fit. I have no objections with that. However, I suggest you remain careful addressing the wife of Prince Terrence of Ravendale. Humiliating a royal is highly discouraged and a punishable offense according to Ravendalian law. You would do good remembering that."

"Prince..." my voice wobbled in a weak protest.

"Oh, and this is your first and last chance attempting such offense, considering you are Esmarelda Terrence Beverdon's family. I shall even let the vile crime of intentionally suffocating her go even though I shouldn't. Again, you should thank your cousin because I doubt she'd rest well knowing that I will raise the matter to your Coven Father and demand justice before leaving."

Margherita stiffened and pursed her lips, still looking away like an absolute haught.

Prince continued. "You should feel fortunate you are related to her. Not only because she is now a Ravendale royal but she thinks of your coven before she thinks about herself. Anyway, I hope I have relayed my intentions correctly. There shall be no pardon next time. Keep that in mind. Come, Esmarelda. Let us leave. We're getting late."

With a dazed mind, I allowed him to guide me back toward the tents. My gaze rested on the willow figure of my cousin, looking down at her feet.

When she met my eyes, my heart crumbled at the raw hatred burning within them.

And I couldn't help but wonder when did I lose my dear cousin between last night and this morning. Would I ever get her back?

***

The next moments were blurred for me. I was into one arm after another, burying my face in the familiar smell of grass, warmth, and sweat. My coven.

My father was the last one to cup my cheeks and press his trembling cracked lips on my hair. He rested his hand over my head and looked down at me with grave gray eyes.

"Honor your blood through life and death. Be happy."

To others, it might sound like an impassive command but for me, it was a blessing worth more than a thousand jewels. Because Baba wanted me to make a good life in Ravendale and remember my roots, and stay humble, never forgetting who I was within despite all the lavishness a royal life would possibly embrace me there... if everything went well.

I offered him a solemn nod. "I will, Baba."

He nodded back, his face betraying nothing except for a flicker of emotion passing through his eyes.

I turned to the three winged horses awaiting afar at the edge of our neighborhood street, where my husband stood watching me with the calm look of a man seeing river waves flow. And that grounded me to the present despite the shaking quake inside, courtesy to Margherita.

I stepped forward when a dainty hand clasped my shoulder.

My heart jumped with treacherous elation thinking, she had come to finally see me off despite everything. The smile widening on my lips dropped a notch seeing a glossy-eyed Doria.

"You're leaving for good and didn't even look at me."

Guilt surged through me like a raving ocean and I clasped her hands. "I'm so sorry, my Doria. I could never forget about you."

She sniffed and scoffed, wiping away a stray tear. "Yeah, yeah, dreamy bride. Go run to your prince. But take this before you dash."

She held a bracelet made of hawk feathers and colorful beads. And I couldn't speak with my throat clogged so hard.

So I only gave her my trembling hand forward and tipped my chin toward it.

She choked out a laugh and wrapped the bracelet around me with delicate care. She pulled me into her arms.

"I'll dye all her cushions in mud for you. Be happy," she muttered in my ear, pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek, and shoved me off. "Now go before your husband rushes here and hauls you over his shoulder."

I staggered back as snickers rang around me and found Prince Terrence was indeed squirming with impatience shifting from foot to foot.

I decided to put him out of his misery and finally walked to him with one question in my mind.

How did she know what happened between Margherita and me?