His twin stood at his back in the traditional role of a friend or relative standing in wait to welcome a new member of the house. There wasn’t anger or rage in his brother’s eyes. On the contrary, the second prince looked about the beginnings of the ceremony with utter fascination.
I dared not look to the other dais, dared not face the long row of fae royals, and kept my focus ahead.
Jonas Eriksson. His name tumbled about in my skull, as though my mind could not be convinced he was my future. Foe, defeater, now husband.
A muscle ticked in his jaw. The gleam of his rich green eyes never wavered when he held out a hand. Rough calluses collided with my palms after our fingers curled together, and the subtle squeeze he offered splashed my insides with a strange sense of calm.
The instant I faced him, an elven speaker—a man who devoted hislife to speaking with the gods in the hillside chantry—began reciting vows in elder elvish.
“I have no idea what is being said.”
The prince’s whisper startled me from the haze of the moment.
“Oh.” I kept my voice hushed. “He’s . . . he’s speaking of the honor it brings a woman to join with a new house. Now, he describes the duties the vowed must accept.”
“Hmm. What sort of duties?”
His eyes were rife in mischief, like he wanted to spar with me. So be it.
“Duties like a husband’s requirement to tend to a bride’s every whim.”
“Tell me more about these whims.”
I cast a glance at the speaker who was wholly uninterested in our quiet chatter. “He is saying desires such as solitude for reading are of utmost importance. To better a bride’s mind for her husband, of course.”
“Naturally.”
“And long baths, so her beauty never fades. For her husband’s benefit.”
“A grand benefit.”
“Also, there is a duty to ensure her need for delicacies is satisfied, lest she grow temperamental and sour toward her husband.”
Jonas leaned in, his lips close to my ear. “Tell me about thesedelicacies.”
Gods, had his voice always been so silken? Heat dripped in my belly. I was a weak woman and could not even rise to the challenge of unsettling this man before such a simple word burned through my veins in a strange collision of disquiet and desire.
“Delicacies like sweet cakes, obviously.”
“Foolish of me to consider anything else.”
“Honey filled, with a bit of spiced cream to be exact.”
Jonas’s mouth split into a grin, the dangerous sort, like he was head first in this game of unraveling the other, and planned to rise victorious in the end.
Before he could respond, the speaker cleared his throat, annoyed. Cupped in his palms was a wooden bowl filled with blue stain. The speaker soaked a finger in the color. “You are to be marked as bonded in this life and the journey into the Otherworld.”
Jonas watched as the tops of my palms were painted in runes of honor and respect and fealty. Next, my brow.
The speaker faced the prince and did the same.
“Bonds and vows may now be sealed with the kiss. As the gods kissed barren earth to sprout new life, you now begin your united paths.”
The world around me blurred. I knew this moment would come, by the hells, by the laws of Natthaven, he could command any piece of me now as my husband. I should not be so startled at the notion of a kiss.
I took a bit of pleasure when the prince hesitated for half a breath, like he might be as unsteady as me. Dithering did not last long. Jonas cupped a hand behind my neck and tugged my mouth to his.
Tight lips met the softness of his. His second palm cupped under my jaw, drawing our bodies closer.
