The water in Briar's bath had long since cooled, but she couldn't bring herself to leave its embrace. She sank lower, letting the water lap at her chin, trying to imagine what drowning might feel like when it wasn't in an ice-filled river.
The door to her chambers opened without warning—only one person entered like that. She heard his footsteps cross to the bathing room, pause at the doorway.
"Planning to grow gills?" Eliam's voice carried amusement, but she detected something else beneath it. An edge of tension that made her stomach clench. “Perhaps I should have enforced bath time supervision after all.”
"The water's nice," she managed, not turning to look at him. Had Thaine finally cornered him? Did he know about her midnight wanderings, her desperate research? If he did, he was keeping such knowledge close to the cuff.
"I'm sure it was. Three hours ago." He moved into the room, and she heard the rustle of fabric as he removed his coat. "You'll be wrinkled as a raisin if you stay much longer."
"Maybe that's my plan. Can't attend a ball if I'm more raisin than woman."
"Nervous?" He knelt beside the tub, and she finally looked at him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes held that intensity that always made her breath catch.
"Terrified," she admitted, which was true enough.
"Of dancing? We practiced thoroughly. Your body knows what to do." His fingers trailed through the water, not quite touching her. "Or what comes after?"
"Both. Neither." She drew her knees up, suddenly self-conscious despite everything they'd shared. "I don't know how to be what they'll expect tomorrow."
"You don't have to be anything but yourself." He stood, fetching a towel from the warming rack. "Though perhaps a dry, unwrinkled version of yourself. Come."
She wanted to refuse, to hide in the cooling water forever, but his extended hand was insistent and his expression indicated he would not be denied. She rose, water streaming off her body, and let him wrap the towel around her with surprising gentleness. His hands lingered on her shoulders, and she felt him press something small and cool into her palm.
"What's this?" She looked down at an elegant wooden box, dark wood inlaid with silver thorns.
"Open it."
Her hands trembled slightly as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled on midnight blue velvet, lay a circlet unlike anything she'd ever seen. It was delicate but undeniably powerful—silver thorns twisted through dark wood that seemed to hold starlight in its grain.
The wood was polished to a deep gleam but retained an organic quality, as if it had grown into this shape rather than been carved. Where the silver met the wood, they melded seamlessly, metal and living material united. Tiny points of light seemed trapped within the wood itself, gleaming like distant stars when the light caught them just right.
"Eliam," she breathed, unable to form more words.
He lifted it from the box with careful hands. "The wood is from the oldest groves, where moonlight has soaked into the grain for millennia. It took me three days to find the perfect piece."
So this was what he'd been doing. Not Wild Hunt preparations, but crafting her a crown.
"May I?"
She nodded, standing still as he settled it on her damp hair. The weight was less than she'd expected, but she felt it like a brand, the cool touch of silver, the strange warmth of the ancient wood. In the mirror across the room, she caught their reflection. He stood dark and possessive behind her with her wrapped in nothing but a towel and starlight thorns.
"Perfect," he murmured, adjusting the placement slightly. "Though it'll look better with your hair properly styled tomorrow."
"This is too much." The words came out choked. "Ican't—"
"You can and you will." His hands settled on her shoulders again, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "Tomorrow, you'll wear this circlet with the dress you chose, and everyone will see what I've known since you first defied me. You were born to wear thorns."
The warmth in her chest pulsed so hard it hurt. She turned in his arms, the towel slipping slightly, but neither of them moved to adjust it. "Why are you giving me this?"
"Because tomorrow changes everything." His thumb traced her jaw, careful not to disturb the circlet. "Tomorrow I name you my consort before the entire court."
Her breath caught. "Consort?"
"The first I've ever named." The admission seemed to surprise him. "In three centuries of ruling, I've never even considered... but after the river, after you nearly—" His jaw clenched. "Things became clear."
Not just a companion, but consort.
"What things?"
