Glancing back to the Dealmaker, I’m not sure what I’m hoping for. Reassurance? An escape? A crack of a smile and a confession that this is all a joke and it’s time to get to mucking the stables? Whatever it is, I don’t get it. His amber eyes are unreadable, and the nod he offers is so small I’m not sure I didn’t imagine it.
One step toward the dancefloor is all it takes for the band to begin, the sound of string music swelling to cover the whispers and questions. I’m not dense enough to miss the fact that my appearance has made somewhat of a stir. They’re going to have a lot more to discuss if I’m expected to dance for them—I haven’t the first clue what to do, and my feet freeze in place even while my arm tries to follow.
Xandril stops as well, and the music falters for a beat before the confused band continues with nervous looks exchanged among them. The demon lord looms over me, his presence near suffocating with the tension rolling off of him.
His hand releasing mine, his eyes dim as they narrow at me. The gathered audience is far enough away to not hear his low demand. “Am I not what you expected?”
His voice is a deep rumble I feel in my own chest, like distant thunder on a summer’s eve. My throat tightens, so dry I can’t find my own voice for a moment. Slowly, I shake my head. “I had no expectations, my lord,” I finally manage with minimal cracking in my voice. “I hadn’t realized I’d be asked to dance, and I fear I’ll trip all over us both.”
The only indication I have that he heard me over the increasingly-nervous band is a brief flare of heat behind his smoldering eyes. With the weight of everyone watching so closely, I don’t have the chance to decipher what that strange light could mean. He leans down, moving in to speak close to my ear. He smells of faint wood smoke and fresh-tilled fields after a rainstorm, and his warm breath stirs the loose hairs at my temple when he says, “Don’t let go.”
Those three little words leave me more confused than ever, but I don’t have time to wonder. He pulls me toward him, his hands settling to their respective places, and a sudden weightlessness takes hold of me. My stomach drops, feet hovering a hair’s breadth off the floor. I understand Xandril’s direction when he takes a step, sweeping me along. Heart leaping to my throat, all I can do is cling to him, one hand in his, the other searching for safe purchase among his spiky exterior. With the room twirling around me, I have no space to hesitate or debate the propriety of taking hold of his bare side. It’s that or lose my balance and fall on my behind.
Xandril’s side is muscled and warm and the flush that overcomes me from being so close to him leaves me short of breath. Is it the heat radiating off of him in contrast with thecold surroundings? The weight of so many other-worldly eyes following my every move like an oddity on display—or prey to be hunted? The tight bodice of my fantastical gown isn’t helping matters, and the loss of my own footing, being at the whims of this strange man, makes my head spin.
Focusing on Xandril and the way he seems to know just how to move across the dancefloor is all that keeps the room from spinning, too. My stomach twists into knots, a lump rising in my throat as the weight of the tangle I’ve made for myself starts to settle on me. This might be worse than all of Phillip’s tangles combined. A lifetime’s worth all at once.
Emboldened by our movement, the band picks up the pace, the music’s speed increasing along with my thoughts’. The room blurs, colors swimming in a dizzying haze while the edges fuzz into a dark tunnel.
I manage to conceal any distress I’m feeling from the demon lord, and mercifully, the music stops, giving me some respite. Turning us both toward the main portion of the gathered crowd, he raises our joined hands, the gap between my feet and the floor shrinking slowly enough that my skirts don’t move.
“I present my bloodsworn bride!” he announces just as I reconnect with the frigid ground.
…Did he… Did he saybride?My knees fail to collect my weight, buckling beneath me as the rest of the room fades into the tunnel.
Chapter Seven
Xandril
The chaos and commotion that results from my bride’s drop is enough to rouse even my sorry excuse for a royal guard. Valenar is quick to step in to smooth things over, simultaneously shielding me while I scoop Ingrid into my arms and carry her to the next room. I’m only thinking that I need somewhere quiet and private to take her; the castle takes me to the throne room. Still some humor left in these frozen roots, it seems.
“Bring me the damn Dealmaker!” I roar to whoever might be trailing me as I deposit the human onto the throne. The massive seat swallows her tiny form, and she looks impossibly fragile surrounded by the cage of its bare branches.
“He’s on his way,” Valenar answers, his expression grim. He joins my side, saying nothing more as we wait. What is there to say? My ‘I told you so’ would bring no satisfaction, and even he is unable to find any bright side to this debacle.
The only thing keeping my fury contained at the moment is how pale Ingrid’s skin is. The healthy flush is long gone, her breaths are shallow, and the perspiration clinging to her is cool to the touch. Has the Dealmaker brought me a sickly human? Or have I already failed to protect her?
I hear a door open, but don’t lift my head.
“What sort of game do you think you’re playing at?” Val demands, stalking toward the unbothered demon, then haunting him as he approaches my throne. When the Dealmaker reaches the base of the dias, I turn andsnarlat him like the beast I truly am. He cannot come closer to her.
In the same moment, I’m noticing just how tight her ornate gown is laced. Still focused entirely on her, I slice through the ties of her bodice, my claw trembling. I don’t know just how much care she must be handled with, and one wrong move of my claw could make this evening much worse for all of us. The worry and anger warring within me don’t make for a steady hand, but I take a slow breath and force my hand to move as precisely as I can.
“A human?” Valenar continues. “Is this a joke? Is this funny to you?”
With the dress loosened, Ingrid’s breaths shift, her chest expanding with more air than before. I break off a wispy branch to fan her with, not sure what I can do to fix this.
Slowly, some of the color returns to her face, and her eyes flutter open. Not quite the same depths to her bronze eyes as before, but they’re open. She’s awake, and the vise around my chest loosens a fraction.
“Thank you,” Ingrid breathes, filling her lungs more fully, awareness returning to her along with the pink color to her cheeks.
And with that, her attention turns to the Dealmaker, the trio of us all glaring daggers in his direction while he idly examines a non-existent speck on his sleeve.
I rise from where I was crouched next to the throne, mustering up the most imperious, intimidating stance I canwhile still smothering the rage threatening to burn me from the inside out.
“I would like an answer, Dealmaker,” I say, my voice surprisingly level. Controlled and calm. The paltry number of guards and staff present in the room all shrink back to the recesses, and I can feel the throne’s latent power lingering so close at hand. Emerald Reach needs every bit of uncorrupted magic it has to sustain it through this endless winter, but I’ve already tapped into it once for Ingrid with our dance. My hands twitch at my sides, fingers tingling with energy I still don’t know how to channel. But for this beautiful, delicate creature, I will figure it out.
“She is clearly not able to flourish in this realm. Why have you brought this fragile human—”
