“Look at me.” He pressed his hand to her face, and her eyes snapped open at the touch, alarmed, but she relaxed when she saw he was still wearing gloves.
His eyes were hooded, feverish. “Bryn, remember.Imade you feel like that. I did.”
Her body was still shuddering. What they’d done was wrong, and yet she couldn’t even process how incredible he’d made her feel.
“You have no idea how much I want to kiss you,” he muttered.
“Don’t,” she breathed.
“You might have married my brother, but I’ll never stop loving you, Bryn Lindane. One way or another, we’ll be together.”
She tilted her face up at him, wanting to believe him, wanting it all to be true. He cupped her cheek one final time with his gloved hand. Then, he climbed out the window, disappearing around the parapet.
Alone, shivering, she sank to the floor. Her whole body trembled from the aftershocks of his touch. What they’d done had been so very wrong, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. Not in the least.
She wasn’t sure how long she sat there on the floor until the dressmaker knocked gently on the door, peeking in, then startled to find her still wearing her afternoon dress.
“Are you well, my lady?” she asked.
Bryn shakily pushed to her feet. “Um . . . just a dizzy spell.”
Helna gave her an odd look but extended a hand to help her to her feet. The old seamstress began to undo the buttons at the side of her dress and help her change into the new one.
“You’re just nervous about the travel tomorrow,” Helna reassured her. “The Wedding Tour is a grand affair. You’ll get to see the entire Baersladen, but I imagine it will lack the comforts you’re used to. Better enjoy one final night on a proper bed with that handsome prince of yours.”
Helna winked, and Bryn felt awful, knowing Helna meant Trei, not Rangar.
Once she was in the lacy evening dress, her hair freshly combed, Bryn had no choice but to return to the feast, sit at Trei’s side, and know that in a few hours, she was going to lose her virginity to him after having completely lost her heart, once again, to Rangar.
Chapter
Twelve
A SHOCKING DISCOVERY . . . a knife, returned . . . a prince asleep . . . all eyes on one brother
The feast was another interminable affair, this time meant to wish the newlyweds well before they departed for the Wedding Tour in the morning. The castle’s staff had worked hard over the previous week to prepare for the voyage: Not only had they cooked this going-away feast but they’d already packed and readied three carriages for the journey: one for Trei and Bryn, one for the soldiers who would be protecting them, and one for the servants and a few flower girls who’d accompany them.
Bryn knew she should feel grateful for all the hard work that had gone into celebrating her marriage, but the truth was, she was devastated. After her rendezvous with Rangar in the dressmaker’s room, Rangar had made a brief appearance at the feast to toast the couple well on their journey, his dark eyes boring into her soul the entire time. But it was just as upsetting to see Saraj, who Bryn hadn’t spoken to since the wedding day, sitting by the far hearth with Aya and some other falconers.Saraj’s face looked sallow with dark rings around her eyes as though she hadn’t slept for days. Bryn’s heart broke to see her friend so transformed by grief.
I’m not the only one suffering,Bryn thought sullenly.
Trei must have also been deeply pained to see Saraj because he soon leaned toward Bryn and muttered, “I’m going to retire early. I want to get plenty of sleep before the voyage tomorrow.” He hesitated. “I’ll . . . see you shortly.”
“Of course.” They were a miserable pair, Trei and her, she thought. Both lovesick over someone else. She tried to act grateful during the remainder of the evening as royalty and soldiers and peasants alike approached the dais to greet her. At one point, Mage Marna raised a glass to her with a grave look, and Bryn swallowed hard. She understood what the older woman was trying to say.No more waiting. Bryn couldn’t start the Wedding Tour as a virgin.
But she found it impossible to get up the nerve to join Trei upstairs in the newlywed chamber. She sipped more and more wine, growing increasingly anxious as the evening stretched on. Earlier that evening, Rangar had let her know exactly what true passion felt like. After what had happened between them, how could she be with someone else?
She threw glances toward Saraj, wishing she could join her friend and that there wasn’t an awful tension between them now. Her problems were types of things she’d like friends or sisters to talk to about, but she couldn’t confide in Saraj about sleeping with her former lover. And her sister, Elysander, was far away in Dresel, probably playing the part of the duchess perfectly—everything Elysander did was perfection.
By the time the musicians stopped, Bryn realized she was more than a little tipsy.
Ah, well, if I’m to lose my virginity to my lover’s brother, I might as well be drunk.
After the event ended, she climbed the tower stairs trailed by her guards, who took care that she didn’t stumble back down the winding stairs. Her thoughts turned again to her sister. What had Elysander’s wedding night been like? Since birth, Elysander had been betrothed to the Duke of Dresel and had successfully married him—granted, with a major uprising and fleeing for her life involved. But Elysander was a maven of courtly manners. Come her wedding night, she probably hadn’t grieved and thought about another man. She’d doubtlessly charmed her husband with tender caresses and seductive whispers.
“Oh, Elysander,” Bryn muttered aloud. “I could use your guidance.”
She suddenly longed for her sister again and, more so, a chance to get to know Elysander in their new roles. They’d never had a chance to mourn their parents together, and now they’d lost Mars, too. It was only the two of them, and Bryn wondered if their paths would ever cross again. Dresel was a long way away, far south of the Mirien.
