I WALK THROUGHthe entryway of our Hearth a couple of hours later, closing the door behind me, and the sound of heavy furniture moving reaches me. He wasn’t at sparring, but he has the power to skip without punishment, and I’m relieved he’s here and not off somewhere else. I follow the noise to Draven’s room.
Golden magic whooshes past me, the Emperor card pulling spying crystals from all the places she’s managed to plant them. It rearranges furniture and books, his room both messy and tidy all at once as things shift about the space. Most of his books have returned to their shelves, and I realize it’s been a while since I’ve peeked inside here.
His back is to me, the color of those wings shifting from blue to purple in the light, and as soon as I clear my throat he glances over his shoulder, eyes orange, glowing as bright as lava pools. They soften back to indigo when he realizes it’s me. The simmering anger tones down, but frustration lingers in his tense shoulders, the lines of his clenched jaw, and the silence he emits.
He swallows, turning from me again. “Magda’s been busy.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” I watch his magic pull out more and more crystals from various spaces. “I’m guessing she figured if she put enough in, you’d miss one this time.”
“It’s almost like shewantsme to find them.” He crushes the last remaining ones with his power, the light bleeding from them before he angrily casts them in the fire. “I can’t for the life of me understand it.”
“I can. I just followed her.” I lean against the doorframe. The way he’s looking at me has me shifting my feet. It’s not shock or confusion in those eyes, but delight. My chest floods with ridiculous warmth. “She was telling someone, a guard maybe, that she can’t find any evidence that we’re fated because of all the spying crystals being found. Said she couldn’t sense … no … she couldn’tscentit either. Whatever that meant. She talked about an envoy from Nevaeh.”
The amusement slides off his face like sap. “Did you see who she was speaking to?”
“Unfortunately, no. From their voice it was a male.”
“Then it could’ve been anyone. A guard. One of my friends.” Draven walks toward the two-story arched window. I catch a bit of his face, and for a moment he looks like his father, if only in the cold way he surveys things, leaning with his arm against the glass and staring out at the slumbering volcano as if he will personally rouse it. “If Nevaeh is considering sending an envoy, it’s to rectify what the two kings could not.”
“What does that mean?” My heart races. I think I might be sick.
“It could mean they’re reconsidering my marriage arrangement. Which means I would have no basis in which to protect you.” Draven folds his arms across his chest, turning to watch me now with eyes that are as midnight blue as the skies outside. “It’s not like they’d allow you to be my consort with theprophecy we all saw. Only a future queen gets that kind of protection and power. Hollow Fest and finals are at the end of the week, and then we’re supposed to go to Alfheim. Now I’m not so sure I want to leave with them meeting to decide our fate.”
“Can we force his hand?”
“My father’s?” Draven shakes his head. “Unlikely … though maybe … no, never mind.”
“What?” I prompt, desperate.
“We could try to progress things more quickly. Up our timeline in terms of our ‘romance.’” Draven still doesn’t look entirely convinced it would work. “The problem with druids and other immortals is our senses are heightened. We can learn to scent when something is real or not.”
“What’re you … oh.” My face heats as I realize that the immortals can’t smell him on me. Or me on him. “How … do you propose we resolve that?”
“Maybe we start sharing a bed.” He chuckles when my eyes narrow. “If only in whatever boring way we must. It’ll help. With the scenting I mean. Eight hours a night wrapped up in each other, even platonically, could fool my father.” His tongue wets his lower lip and my body bursts into flame. Palming the back of his neck he adds, “I’m not a bed hog, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
No, I’m far more nervous about the intimacy of sleeping alongside him. Sex can be a distant thing, carnal, primal. But sharing a bed? Cuddling? It’s stupid to be more worried about my feelings than my sovereignty, but here we fucking are.
“Well, I’m a kicker,” I say, and he laughs. “Sharing a bed,” I muse for a spell, heart fluttering in my chest like a hummingbird’s wings. It’s a simple solution, if not a troublesome one. “Fine, starting tonight. As long as you behave.”
“I won’t break until you do.” Draven’s promise is hissed, like a blade leaving a sheathe.
“Fine.” I swallow, but the alternative likely will mean my head. “Mine or yours?”
“Yours. Whoever Magda was with must be close to me, so it’d be best if I was covered in the scent of you.”
Why is eye contact so fucking hard right now? I just nod. “See you in a bit, then.”
Exiting through the bathroom, I can’t help but notice my preparation for sleep is far more layered than usual. Though I curse myself for caring, I still wind up shaving my legs, adding on several lotions I’d usually skip, and waffling between a summer set of silk pajamas and a winter one. In the end, I opt for the narrow straps paired with lace and bottoms with a shorter inseam than I’d ever usually allow anyone to see me in. We can’t smell like each other with fabric between us.
I cozy into my massive bed, bringing a book he lent me for research, but my gaze skips across the page like a stone across a lake, barely hitting every word or three. My heart races, the minutes stretching until finally Draven enters. His cotton shirt and loose pants are plain next to his usual clothes, but the top is formfitting enough to outline every curve of muscle. I wonder if this is what a doe feels, when she spots a lone wolf across a clearing in a forest. Is the heady rush of nerves what makes them go still, the way I do now? He stalks across to me, watching me as guardedly as if the roles were reversed, as if he were the stag and I the alpha of the pack.
He slides onto the other side, lifting the comforter and sheet, and that pressure grows unbearable. The enormous mattress doesn’t seem wide enough for both of us—
“Did you put on perfume just for me?” His violet eyes greet mine, holding tight, and the edge of a smile lingers at thecorners of his lips. There’s an invitation laced in the sarcasm.Come play with me.
“It’s lotion.” I look him over, eyes narrowing. “Are you flexing right now?”
“It’s cold in here, without the fire.”
