“We’re men enough.” Lucien’s words are as sharp as glass.
Alaric places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. We’re from different cultures. Things can get lost in translation.”
The king draws everyone's attention back to him. “Shall we review the peace agreement then?”
Sevrin looks down at me, those honey-colored eyes gentling. “I’m going to put you down in this seat. You’ll tell me if you need anything?”
I want to kiss him, but know better than that. “I will.”
He sets me down in the chair like I’m something terribly fragile, and his hands linger on me for the briefest moment before he releases me and turns away. The look on his face sayshe doesn’t trust the princes with me, but he slowly circles the table until he comes to stand beside the king. With every muscle in his body tense, he leans over the peace agreement and begins reading.
Time ticks away, but I’m the only one who sits. The guards, the advisor, the other lords, even the king and the princes remain standing as Sevrin goes through the lengthy document and the map. After a time, drinks are handed out. The fire is built up once more, and the tension in the air is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Sevrin straightens his back and stands above the document. “I am pleased to see that everything is satisfactory for the Hollowborn. I am prepared to sign the agreement.”
“As am I,” the king says.
Sevrin signs first, followed by King Stormvale. When they’re done, I start to clap, but I’m the only one. The advisor turns and mumbles a string of very impolite curses. The princes look ready for a fight. Only the king and Sevrin shake hands. The king is smiling broadly, and Sevrin has a serious look on his face.
“You will enjoy your time in Elarwyn. We have prepared our finest room and all you can–”
“Which room is Harper in?” Sevrin asks smoothly.
The king seems caught off-guard, but recovers quickly. “Harper is in one of the rooms designated for our dragon riders. It is a very plain room without any of–”
“I’ll stay with her.”
“The hell you will,” Gareth growls.
“We all have ourownrooms.Separaterooms,” Lucien emphasizes, a tick in his jaw.
Sevrin ignores them, focusing on the king. “My bride is likely hungry and tired. I would like her needs tended to in our room.”
“Yes–” the king begins.
“Did you not hear me?” Lucien cuts in, looking frustrated.
But Sevrin doesn’t slow. “I would also like a healer sent to our room to tend to her ankle. She says it’s fine, but I saw her pain when she was climbing off of Ebron, and I won’t have her in pain.”
“I can tend to it,” I tell Sevrin. “I have all my healer’s supplies in my room.”
He gives a sharp nod.
“We’ll send someone if it’s needed,” King Stormvale says with a nod of his head, and it’s the first time I think I’ve ever seen someone speak to the king like they’re equals. “Just remember, the wedding will be tomorrow. None of this is a done deal until you’re wed and we have the information about the male dragons. This is a treaty bound by marriage.”
“Not to worry, I will do your meaningless ceremony. Until then, I’m going to focus on my bride and ensure she recovers well from her travels.”
“Just a minute,” Lucien says, getting in his face. “She’s our betrothed. You don’t need to focus on caring for her, we will.”
A look of amusement is there and gone in a flash as Sevrin steps closer, not the least bit intimidated. “First of all, none of the three of you strike me as the type of men to care for a woman, regardless of whether or not you see her as yours. Not once since we’ve come here have any of the three of you even asked how Harper was feeling. None of you have even looked at her with anything other than possession. Second of all, you might be engaged to Harper, I might have to share her with you one day, but today, she’s my bride, and she’s my concern, not yours.”
Gareth and Alaric step up behind their brother, fists clenched. Gareth speaks in a low, threatening voice. “You’re not taking care of her today, and you’re sure as fuck not spending the night with her.”
King Stormvale is suddenly between them. He gives a nervous laugh. “Forgive my sons, they are passionate. We will, ofcourse, send Harper with you, so you can care for her. And you will, of course, share the room with your bride tonight.”
“Father–” Alaric begins.
Anger flashes across the king’s face. “It’s decided.”
