“Oh?”
“You’ve been most pleasing to me in your Glemarian-style gowns.” His eyes ran down my corset, following the material to where it disappeared beneath my blankets. “But tonight, I think we ought to remind everyone where you come from, hmmm? Remind them that the previous Heir to the Arkasva of Bamaria is now mine—a subject of the North. And wed to his Arkturion.”
“Of course,” I said, pushing back the covers. I wanted to get out of bed before he got close again.
He stalked toward my closet and threw the doors open, thrusting his hand inside, and I waited for him to reveal some garish yet traditional Bamarian styled dress.
But what he pulled out was the complete opposite in every way. He was holding a slinky red dress—if that was even the word for what I saw. The front of the bodice formed a V that would cut to my belly. Hanging from the waist was what could barely be described as fabric—the gown’s skirt seemed to be made of scraps. I could already tell I’d be almost completely exposed wearing it, revealing not just the full length of my thighs, but my hips as well. It looked as if someone had tried to design a dress from my country from memory and had forgotten halfway through.
I shook my head. “Is that supposed to be a Bamarian gown?” I asked.
“Did I get the color right? Batavia red?” he mocked.
“It’s, um, close, Your Highness. Perhaps if you want to remind everyone of my Ka and your claim on me, a more exact shade would be better—”
“I think this is perfect,” he said loudly. “It’s your color, it’s Bamarian, and it’s—how did you put it? A dress that shall keep men who see you from having an imagination.” He winked. “No room for that here. Not much room for anything.” He twirled it around.
“Is there no end to your games? To your humiliation?” I asked, watching the material pick up the red rays of the sunset. After a month of this, I was so tired.
Imperator Hart set the thing alleging itself to be a dress on a chaise, his aura once more too calm, too much like something resembling happiness.
“The games end when you actually decide to play. You’ve convinced no one of a single thing. Neither has my weak-minded son. Ridiculous. I know you find Kane revolting. But Rhyan? He doesn’t even have to pretend intimacy when it comes to Amalthea.”
“Doesn’t have to pretend intimacy?” My stomach sank.
“You didn’t know?” He laughed. “He already fucked Amalthea. Two and a half years ago.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
LYRIANA
My chest tightened and I fell back on the bed.
He already fucked Amalthea.
I remembered the way Rhyan had looked a month ago, on the night he’d been forced to put the engagement ring on her finger, the way he scratched his palm. The way he was still keeping so many secrets from me.
It was kept quiet—but his father had—well, he’d made it known that he was to resume courting.
Kenna’s words came back to me, and my stomach sank. Had Amalthea been a part of thatcourting? My hands flexed involuntarily.
But before I could take another moment to process what Imperator Hart had said, servants of the Emperor entered to prepare me for the ball. My hair was curled, my lashes darkened, and that hideous scrap of a dress was forced onto me until they deemed me ready.
A short while later, I was lined up outside of the ballroom, forced to stand in a long, dark corridor, my mind racing. I just wanted to get out of there. I wanted to get Rhyan alone to talk to him.
Instead, I was stuck, waiting, listening to the crackling sounds of the fire in the lamp above me, and Kane’s erraticbreathing. Ahead, I could see the traditional purple cloth of Ka Elys, though I hadn’t seen anyone from Bamaria. They must have been one of the first Kavim presented. It was only after every Ka was introduced that the Imperators and their entourages proceded in. Until then, I was trapped in the Godsdamned hallway with my arm slung through Kane’s, my stomach twisting from the contact, and pain erupting in my blood every time I considered pulling away.
Rhyan was behind me, his arm linked with Amalthea’s. Imperator Hart’s words played in my mind again and again.
He already fucked Amalthea.
He already fucked Amalthea.
I clenched my jaw. Imperator Hart was lashing out. Trying to hurt me. But he wasn’t, not the way he wanted to, at least. Not the way he’d tried to hurt me with Kenna. Because all I could see was Rhyan’s hurt and distant look, the way his emotions had withdrawn, the way he’d itched his palm.
I could feel Rhyan’s eyes now, boring into my bare back. I could always sense his gaze, feel the heat of where his eyes went. But to my surprise, in that moment his aura reached out, like a gentle brush against my shoulders, and then it cocooned me with a cool reassuring breeze. My heart pounded as its familiar, calming sensation wrapped around me, seeking me out. He’d been unbound. And for a second, I felt less naked, less exposed in my dress.
But then the air around me chilled, and a torch flickered out, the hallway darkening. Imperator Hart’s aura was pulsating with his displeasure. He’d wanted Ka Hart to be the final Ka to enter before Emperor Theotis—proof he was the more powerful of the two Imperators. But the wolves now stood behind us, ready to be introduced last. All at once, Kane stepped forward, dragging me along with him. I huffed, and straightened, trying to separate my body from his as muchas possible. But then Imperator Hart’s command played through my mind, and all of my will to avoid Kane’s touch vanished as a sharp pain twinged down my arms.
