“If there’s another hobby you want to pursue, I can have whatever you need supplied,” he says, picking through a basket overflowing with tidy bundles of roving, a frown slowly forming.
“I appreciate the offer. Morwen has said much the same. I am content busying myself with something that might be helpful.” With Xandril’s molten eyes turned away from me, I’m finally able to find my rhythm again, pulling and twisting the wool with just the right amount of tension to make it into yarn.
“You will be of more than enough help at The Unveiling,” he says, frown deeper now to match the low timbre of his voice.
It’s not the first time I’ve heard this unveiling thing mentioned, but I’m still not sure what itis, exactly. “That’s the next stage of our union, yes?” I don’t know how muchinformation he’ll be willing to give me, but I have nothing to lose from trying.
“Mm,” he confirms, standing from his makeshift seat and crossing to the window as he continues. “The Unveiling is a tour through our lands. Bloodsworn betrothals are almost always for politics, so it’s a way for the subjects of a reach to meet their new ruler, and for the ruler to inspect their new homeland.”
Following his gaze out the window, my stomach does a little flop. What is Emerald Reach like beyond the branches of this magnificent tree? Curiosity sinks its claws into me along with the realization that I will never see any of this world again once I return to mine. Seeing what I can while I’m here suddenly sounds more appealing than delaying my nuptials.
Stick to the plan, I chastise myself. Curiosity is a dangerous thing.
“Would it not be better to wait until the worst of winter has let up to travel so much?” Maybe even until spring.
“Mm,” he grunts again, back turned to me. Clothed, it’s not quite so distracting. “Winter shows no signs of letting up,” he says.
My hands still, the room quiet without the wheel spinning, and I let out a heavy breath.
“In truth, I’m not sure I’m ready to embark on such a journey,” I say. At first, it feels like a fabrication, but then I manage to tap into real fears I haven’t yet put voice to. “It’s a very important thing, and there’s too much I don’t know about your people and customs. I don’t want to embarrass you and make matters worse than they are.”
Once the words are out, there’s no denying the truth in them, and when Xandril turns away from the window, I wish I could put them back.
“You could not embarrass me, Ingrid,” he says. The tenderness in his voice takes my breath away, and the intensity in his eyes leaves me entirely tongue-tied. “Any embarrassment would be mine for failing you. I’ll arrange to have tutors brought in for you; you can learn the history and customs of Emerald Reach. Study its past governance. By the time we’re bonded, you will be more fit for the throne than I am.”
With a task to latch onto, Xandril’s mood seems to improve near instantly. As he excuses himself to get started, I swear I can hear him fighting off a smile. But that’s insane. I don’t think that man has ever smiled in his whole demonic life.
Staring out the window, watching fat snowflakes fall, I’m left reeling.
What just happened?
I think I’ve successfully postponed The Unveiling, at least for a little while, which is great… But that other part? With tutors and history lessons? I was just hoping for him to realize that he doesn’t want a human for a bride, that maybe he should summon the Dealmaker back to renegotiate.
Instead, I got myself enrolled in demon school.
Chapter Fifteen
Xandril
“Good! Again!” Hilduin shouts to her formations, her battle whip splitting the air with a crack like lightning.
From my vantage on the ramparts, I can watch their progress without disturbing it. The captain turns, cracking her whip again, then looks up to me with a wink and a smile.
I nod in return, some of the worries rooted deep in my chest finally starting to retract. The king’s guard has gone from a useless collection of vagabonds and wastrels to a force comparable to my Emerald Wardens. In fact, they’ve shown themselves capable enough that I might even trust them to protect my queen.
Soon.Not yet. She’s too precious.
“Why aren’t you down there?” Valenar asks, joining me from the stairs, his steps so quiet I didn’t hear him coming.
“I—” I fall silent when I spot the daggers in his hands, his tail twitching, ears flattened. “What—”
Val lunges at me before I can finish that thought. I turn just in time to block the strike. I retreat a step, trying to make sense of what in the shattered realms is happening here.
“Come on,” Val grunts, thrusting a dagger toward my exposed side.
I twist out of his reach.
“Fight me, damn it!” he cries, both daggers coming at me from different directions.
