"She never looks at me like that," I mutter, then immediately regret the words.
Emmett's eyebrows rise fractionally. "Like what? As if you're not about to disembowel her beloved pet?"
"I don't disembowel pets. Children love me. Ask any of the palace urchins."
"The palace children run screaming when you enter a room."
"Exactly. Healthy fear builds character." My attention is drawn back to the garden as an actual laugh—bright and unexpected—drifts up from Seraphina . Stefan is now demonstrating something with exaggerated movements, and whatever it is has cracked her carefully maintained composure.
Something dark and possessive coils in my chest. My shadows writhe more aggressively around my feet.
"What are they saying to her?" I demand.
Emmett's expression remains carefully neutral. "I'm not a lip-reader, my lord."
"Then become one. Immediately."
"If you're so curious, why not join them? You are, after all, her husband. Her Alpha."
I make a noncommittal noise. The truth is more complicated than I care to admit. In the days since claiming her in the corridor, I've found myself increasingly obsessed. Not just distracted. By the scent of her when she passes me in the corridors. By the defiant flash in her golden eyes when I issue commands. By the discovery that her body responds even more intensely when others witness her surrender.
It's becoming a problem.
"The Council," Emmett reminds me again.
"Fine," I growl, turning away from the window. "I'll deal with the doddering old fools. But first..." I stride to my desk and scrawl a quick note, sealing it with shadow magic. "Have this delivered to the garden. Tell Marcus, Stefan, and Viktor they're needed for northern border patrol. Immediately."
Emmett takes the note, his expression unreadable. "Is there an actual threat at the northern border?"
"There's always a threat somewhere. If they can't find one, they can create one. It builds initiative."
"And this has nothing to do with the fact that they made your mate laugh?"
I flash a dangerous smile. "Don't be ridiculous, Emmett. I'm simply concerned with the security of my realm."
"Of course," Emmett says, his tone dry as desert sand. "And what kind of Alpha would separate his top border guards from court just because they displayed basic social skills with his Omega?"
"An innovative one. Now, shall we go listen to old men complain about sheep wandering across arbitrary lines on maps?"
I sweep past him, shadows billowing dramatically behind me. It's an unnecessarily theatrical exit, but I have a reputation to maintain. Besides, I need to put distance between myself and the uncomfortable feeling that surged through me at the sight of Seraphina's smile—directed at someone other than me.
The Council meeting drags on interminably. Five ancient Alphas, remnants from my predecessor's reign, whom I keep around because killing them would have been too messy politically. They drone on about trade agreements, boundary disputes, and proper protocol for handling Light Court delegation requests.
I slouch in my throne, using my shadows to form increasingly elaborate patterns of tiny warriors engaged in mock battles above the council table. None of the Councillors dare comment on my apparent disinterest, though several shoot disapproving glances at my shadow puppetry.
"—and finally, the matter of your marriage, my lord," Councillor Theron says, his voice wavering with age.
My attention snaps back to the proceedings. "What about my marriage?"
"The Council believes it would be prudent to establish certain expectations regarding the Shadow Lady's role. There are concerns about allowing a Light Court Omega unrestricted access to Shadow Court affairs."
I straighten on my throne, shadows darkening around me. "Are you suggesting I can't control my own mate, Councillor?"
Theron pales visibly. "Not at all, my lord. Merely that traditional safeguards?—"
"There is nothing traditional about this marriage," I interrupt. "Or have you forgotten that I bound myself to her by fated mate bond?"
"A political necessity," another Councillor, Dimitri, interjects. "But one that still requires prudent management. Perhaps restrictions on her movements, limitation of her duties to purely domestic matters befitting an Omega…"
