I place both my hands on his chest and shove.
He immediately withdraws, dropping to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. To my astonishment, he grins at me, one eyebrow raised. As always, his chuckle is real. “Good. You were so quiet, I was worried I might have lost you.”
I scowl at him. “You never had me.”
His smile broadens. “There’s the Marbella I know.” He tugs at the edge of the blanket. “Scoot over.”
Alarm replaces my unhappiness. “What are you doing?”
“I have a theory…” He nudges the blanket down and slides one leg inside it. “That your diamond stone makes everything colder. Am I right?”
He’s seriously about to get in to the bed with me. I hustle to the other side as fast as I can. “You might be.”
He pummels the pillow that I just vacated and hands me the one he took, pulling the blanket no higher than his waist while lying down on his side, facing me. The mattress wobbles as he makes himself comfortable. “So my theory is that even if I roll onto my back and set this bed on fire, your power will stop the flames before they start.”
He inhales deeply, holding his breath for a moment as if he expects the bed to burst into flames right then. Nothing changes. He exhales. Relaxes. Closes his eyes. Says nothing else.
I peer at him. He looks far too comfortable where he is. But he hasn’t come any closer. In fact, he’s very close to the edge of that side of the bed. I assess the gap between us. It’s as wide as it can be. But now I can’t decide which direction I should face. Toward him might send the wrong signals, but I don’t exactly want to take my eyes off him.
Without opening his eyes, he says, “Relax, Marbella. I’m not coming over there. I just don’t want to sleep on the floor anymore.”
Despite what he says, his upper arm stretches out across the distance, fingertips brushing my shoulder and staying there, the barest connection that I try to ignore as I fall asleep.
I’m not sure if he wants me to hear him when he murmurs, “If only we weren’t enemies.”
* * *
I dreamof the marriage trials, of the compatibility test and the chair of truth. The Elven Commander Pedr Bounty’s grandson, a big brute of an elf, sits opposite me, just like he did after the battle in the arena. I hated him for hurting Baelen. I never wanted to lay eyes on this elf again. My voice echoes back at me as I force him to answer my question:What do you see when you look at me?
He struggles to get away from me, struggling so hard that sweat drips into his eyes.I see a storm of power and light. I see burning and chaos. I see a girl on a mountain. The wind’s beating at her, lightning’s striking, claws are ripping, but she’s fighting back. I see life and death. I don’t know if you’re the one killing me or saving me.
I awake with a cry in my throat as echoes of my dream repeat on me…Claws ripping. Burning and chaos. A girl on a mountain.
War. I can’t stop it from coming. Up until this moment, part of me thought I could find a way to stop the battle. I’d planned to take the fight to the elves, infiltrate Erawind, kill the Elven Commanders myself, and keep my people safe. But now… now…
My eyes fly open as the horror of my nightmare fades. Grayson watches me from the other side of the bed. Just as he promised, he hasn’t moved from that position.
He says, “I want to ask if you’re okay. You were obviously having a nightmare. But somehow I don’t think you’ll tell me what it was about.”
He’s right. Because he is at the center of it.Heis my greatest fear for my people.
Without answering him, I slide my legs over my side of the bed, preparing to get up.
He gives a resolute sigh at my silence and flops onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. But his eyes shoot wide as he realizes that his back just connected with the bedding. “Oh fu—”
Heat blasts across the room at the same time as the bed blazes, fire lighting up beneath Grayson. I’m only halfway off the other side. I roll back, slap my hand against his chest, and throw my power through him.
As a chill replaces the heat, the fire sizzles and dies. Smoke curls around Grayson’s frame. He looks shocked. Grabs my hand. Lifts up off the bed to check the damage to the mattress beneath him. “Uh… thank you.”
Not something I ever expected him to say to me. I shove away from him, roll off the bed, and head to the bathroom. He kept his word about staying on his side of the bed. He will keep his word about standing at the head of the elven army when it attacks my friends.
As the day wears on, Grayson’s mood shifts from quiet to brooding. He seems to remember that he is living in a bubble and that bubble is about to burst. Or at least open up for a while, because today is the celebration and he has agreed to let Baelen see me. The closer the afternoon gets, the more on edge Grayson becomes. By the afternoon, he is in a dark mood that worries me, his responses to me clipped and sharp to the point where I stop saying anything.
I pace the bedroom floor as he dresses in the bathroom. A box rests on the bed. It contains the dress I’m supposed to wear but I haven’t opened it because I’m trying to delay whatever cleavage-revealing butt-exposing horror awaits me. My experiences of having my clothing chosen for me haven’t gone so well in the past. I heave a sigh as I recall burning dresses with Gilda and Carmen. They needed space in the days before I was captured so I hardly saw them. I miss them. I also miss my Storm Command. Grayson told me that they aren’t being held here. I believe him about that, but not so much about his assertion that they’re fine.
He emerges from the bathroom, blond hair slicked back, golden runes glowing across his chest. He’s wearing black pants that hug his hips and accentuate his thighs.
I remove the lid from the box and gather the dress into my arms before hurrying to the bathroom and nudging the door closed with my foot. The bone lash hangs on a hook on the wall. I’ve studied the tip many times, trying to decide if it would be powerful enough to rip the stones out of Grayson’s back. I have to break the tether between him and every single piece. The connection between Baelen and me was a visible thread of deep magic. I don’t know what Grayson’s tether will look like and I’m terrified of what will happen if it doesn’t break or if I only break some of it.
I drag on the dress, trying not to pay too much attention to it. The corset is made up of an inner skin-colored body suit that pushes up my breasts and makes them look larger, and it’s overlaid with fine white embroidery while the small waistline is decorated with flowers, dropping to a full white skirt. It’s definitely cleavage-enhancing but thankfully not butt-exposing.
I freeze as I catch sight of myself in the mirror. My wavy auburn hair falls free to my waist, contrasting with the dress like a summer sunset. As I position my tiara on my head, I realize that for the first time, I look like a Queen.
That is… a Queen in a wedding dress.
I close my eyes, fighting sudden fear. Grayson is looking for Baelen’s breaking point. Parading me in a wedding dress is Grayson’s way of showing Baelen what he can’t have. It’s the first step in tearing Baelen down. I shudder as I wonder how far Grayson will go today.
