“Then show me,” I breathed.
For once, there was no distance between us. No walls. No guarded truths. Only the heat of his hands, the storm of his breath, and the wings that wrapped around us both like a vow.
And in that moment, the tumult between us quieted. It wasn’t healed, and it sure as hells wasn’t resolved, but at least we had a reprieve.
For now, it was enough.
Chapter 21
Everly
The Great Hall was even more oppressive than the dining hall used to be.
Or at least, overwhelming, between the chime of frosted crystal as glasses clinked together, the low hum of conversation rippling like wind over ice, and the music that echoed off the walls from palace musicians.
Beneath all the pleasantries and forced laughter and the thin sheen of civility was a crackle of something sharp and brittle. The court was trying very, very hard to act normal.
And we were trying even harder.
I actively refused to think about my father, who apparently had yet to regain his lucidity, or the fact that I hadn’t visited him again. That I had no plans to, even when I was finished hiding behind the lie of preparing myself for court.
There hadn’t actually been any preparations because Soren’s plan was easy… in theory.
Be seen.Check.
The entire celebration was in honor of my miraculousrecovery. We were mingling through the room while the wolves trudged lazily at our feet like five giant, almost-nappingsentinels. Draven was dressed in bright whites and silver accents, his crown practically glowing against the pale strands of his hair.
And I was in a gown that actually was glowing… Like I was the shards-blessed embodiment of the Winter sky itself. The gemstones stitched into the pearlescent fabric shifted like falling snow, gleaming in front of silks that mirrored the auroras in daylight.
And if that didn’t capture the court’s attention, then my crown certainly had; each spire reflected the purples and teals and emerald shades of the night sky.
Smile.Check.
Even though Wynnie had to warn me several times that it looked more like a grimace than anything genuine.
Stand with Draven.Check.
Answer a few questions. Look like a united front.Check. Check.
In practice, it all felt like stepping onto a frozen lake and praying none of the dark shapes beneath the ice noticed the weight settling above them.
Draven’s arm was a solid, unmoving bar beneath my hand, warm through his tailored sleeve, tense enough that I could sense every breath as he held himself in rigid control. His posture, of course, was impeccable, regal, and utterly unreadable to everyone else in the room.
Which was deeply unfair and far more than I could say for myself—with my country manners and eccentric frostbat bracelet that hissed whenever someone came too close.
The worst part was that tonight was only the first step. After this, we were supposed to hold court in truth, something else I was sure Draven would carry off flawlessly while I floundered about like an injured salamander.
Then again, he’d had a lifetime of practice.
So I endured the leviathan-infested waters of the court dinner, praying that my mana didn’t suddenly try to break free and expose itself before we were ready.
Draven, for his part, kept his hand over mine on his arm, his thumb occasionally rubbing the inside of my wrist in a subtle, steadying rhythm as he siphoned off small bits of my mana, doing what he could to eliminate the pressure before it built up to dangerous levels.
And if it also felt like warm silk slipping over the most intimate parts of me… There was nothing I could do about that.
And it didn’t help that my sister was casting teasingly-judgmental glares at me every chance she could get away with it, telling me she knew exactly what I was thinking.
Still, I was grateful she was by my side this time. Facing the court without her had been miserable, and I never wanted to do that again. Something I told her at least seven times per hour.
