He struggled visibly, his hand tightening on her shoulder. "That I require you here. Permanently. That the thought of you not being in my halls is... unacceptable." His eyes darkened.
"What about the court? They’ll never accept a—"
"They will have no choice but to accept it, because it is my will. I will make sure they see that you're not just another claimed human. You're—" Again he stopped, searching for words. "You're necessary. To me. That is all that matters."
"Is that why you had the circlet made?"
"I decided that night in the cave." The confession came out rough. "While you shivered against me, barely breathing. I realized then that you needed something more than just my mark to survive those that would see me destroyed. Something that shows..." He paused, taking a breath before pulling her against him. "That shows threatening you will have consequences far greater than any of them can possibly dream. A Forest King cannot go to war for a mere human. But crown her queen, and watch kingdoms fall."
Queen.
His place for her. Forever. And tomorrow he'd announce it to everyone who mattered.
She wanted to sob. Wanted to tell him everything—about Malus, about the compulsion, about how tomorrow would shatter whatever they'd built. Instead, she pressed her face into his chest, careful of the circlet, and just breathed him in.
"What's wrong?" His arms came around her, holding her secure. "And don't say nothing. Your body's telling a different story than your words."
"I'm scared," she whispered into his shirt. Truth, if not all of it. "What if I disappoint you tomorrow? What if I trip during the dance or say the wrong thing to some great lord or—"
"Impossible." He pulled back to cup her face, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You've faced down Winter Lords and ice constructs. You've survived my court's worst games. A ball is nothing compared to what you've already conquered."
"But this is different. This is me choosing to stand beside you, not just surviving what's forced on me."
"Exactly." His thumb stroked over her cheekbone. "Which is why you'll be magnificent. When have you ever failed at something you chose?"
The irony of his words cut deep. She'd chosen to help Thomas, chosen to trust a stranger's tears, and that choice would destroy everything. But she couldn't say that, could only lean into his touch and pretend tomorrow wasn't the end.
"Thaine seemed annoyed earlier," she ventured, testing the waters.
"Thaine's always annoyed about something. He wanted to discuss hunt logistics, as if I haven't been hosting the Wild Hunts for decades." He rolled his eyes. "I told him to handle it himself. I had more important matters to attend."
"Like choosing circlets?"
"Like ensuring my queen is properly adorned for her debut." His hands moved to the towel's edge, toying with it. "Though at the moment, you're rather over-adorned for my taste."
Heat flooded through her despite everything. "I should get dressed."
"Should you?" He tugged the towel loose, letting it pool at her feet. "I can think of better uses for our evening than dressing."
She stood bare before him except for the circlet, and somehow that made her feel more naked than simple nudity. The silver weight on her brow marked her as his in a way that transcended physical claiming.
"You're staring," she said, fighting the urge to cover herself.
"I'm memorizing." His eyes tracked over her with dark hunger. "How you look wearing my crown and nothing else. How the marks on your skin catch the light. How your body sways toward mine even when your mind hesitates."
"I'm not hesitating."
"No?" He stepped closer, backing her against the wall. "Then why do I sense conflict in you? Why does that warmth in your chest pulse like a caged bird?"
She couldn't answer, couldn't explain that the warmth recognized the approaching betrayal, that it grieved for what was about to be lost. Instead, she reached for him, pulling his mouth down to hers in a kiss that tasted like desperation.
He responded instantly, pressing her harder against the wall, hands roaming her bare skin with possessive intent. When he pulled back, they were both breathing hard.
"Tomorrow," he said against her lips, "after the ball, after the hunt begins, I'm keeping you in our chambers for days. Until you forget there's a world beyond our bed. Until the only crown you need is the one made of my kisses."
She kissed him again to stop the promises he couldn't keep, to silence the future that wouldn't exist. Let him think it was passion rather than sorrow that made her cling so tightly.
When he finally carried her to bed, the circlet still glinting in her hair, she tried to lose herself in sensation. In the slide of skin against skin, the weight of him above her, the way he whispered her name. She tried to pretend tomorrow was just another day, that the dress hanging in her wardrobe wasn't funeral attire, that the crown on her brow wasn't a goodbye gift he didn't know he was giving.
