He helps me to my feet. We walk away from the table. Towards the sanctuary of an empty hallway. Whoops and cheers follow us. A small portion of the crowd walks behind us. Singing filthy songs.
But they are behind us, and we are escaping. Nobody can see how hard I’m trying not to cry.
We reach a set of double doors adorned with flowers. Purple, and white, and red. A huge garland adorning the entrance to Selwyn’s bedchamber.
My heart is beating so fast I think I’m going to faint.
Suddenly, Selwyn moves. He scoops me up into a bridal carry, and I manage not to squeal. I know the customs. I was expecting this.
He flings open the doors with a surge of magic, then he steps over the threshold with me in his arms.
The doors swing shut behind us. On the other side, the bedding party will be tying the handles together with ribbons and sealing them with wax.
In here, all is silent and still.
Selwyn sets me on my feet. I look around. There are hundreds of candles everywhere. On every available surface.
In the middle of the room is an enormous four poster bed, all dark wood and gauzy curtains. The thick mattress is covered with white silk sheets and scattered with blood-red rose petals.
And Selwyn and I are all alone.
Chapter nine
On the other side of the doors, footsteps drift away. The bedding party has left. They have returned to the feast.
Now I truly am all alone with Prince Selwyn.
I can’t look at him, I can’t. All I can do is stand here and stare at the polished floorboards. The air feels thick and heavy. The hiss of the candles as they burn, sounds far too loud. The smell of beeswax is strong. Time has slowed. Each breath takes a hundred years.
I am supposed to say, ‘How may I please you, my lord husband?’But my tongue is firmly stuck to the roof of my mouth.
If I had been married to a duke, there would have been a tea served to me at dinner. An aphrodisiac and a sedative. Maybe I would have been served one tonight, if Prince Selwyn had not whisked me away so very early in the evening.
But that’s fine. Being drugged and addled would be awful. At least this way I have my wits about me. It makes me a little less vulnerable.
“Laurie,” Prince Selwyn whispers softly.
I look up.
His mahogany eyes look so sad, and confused. “Why are you so scared?”
“S… sorry,” I stammer.
He stares at me for a long moment. Then, he picks up my hand. The one that is still tied to him with red ribbons, and will remain so until the druid cuts them in the morning.
He places my hand on his firm chest, over where his heart would be if he were human. He places his hand on my chest, and the heat of him seeps through all my layers of silk.
“Can you not feel it?” he says.
I can’t feel anything, save for the intricate embroidery of his outer robe. He has far too many layers on for me to be able to feel his heart beating, if that is what he means. He even has a layer of soft leather, unlike me. He can probably feel the racing of my heart, but I cannot feel a thing.
I stare up at him and bite my bottom lip.
He stares back at me. Searching for something. Sadness swirls and grows in his eyes the more he looks at me.
Eventually he sighs and drops his hand. I allow my hand to fall away too. Now we are no longer touching each other. The ribbon is the only thing connecting us.
The weight of his gaze continues to bore into me.
