Wrath’s hand wraps around the back of mine, causing my skin to heat from his closeness. It’s one of the rare times he’s not wearing gloves. “You’re counting?” he muses. “That must mean you like me, Princess.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Wrath replies, his breath grazing across my skin.
“Did… d-did you mean to give me that much coin?” I ask boldly. “It starts with a P…Plalala, or something?”
“Platasia,” Wrath corrects. “And no, I accidentally gave you an entire year's worth of feudal dues.”
I stifle my laugh. “Well…thank you.”
“You spent it all.”
“Onpretty princessthings,” I coo.
Wrath steps closer, closing the space between us. “Well, youarea pretty princess.”
A thrill runs through my body from his gruff voice, but I try not to let it show. His smell is intoxicating, as leather and bergamot invade my senses. Every part of Wrath holds a dangerous edge, like a wolf cloaked in shadow. His magic sweeps across my skin, sending a chill down my spine.
“Are you flirting with me, Wrath?” I raise a brow at him.
“You’d know if I was flirting with you, Raelys.”
“That’s exactly something a—” A burp escapes my chest, and I feel the familiar burn of alcohol in my throat. “S-something ascoundrelwould say.”
“And what is my menace up to tonight?” he asks gently, thumb slowly running across the back of my hand.
The sensation sends me into a tailspin. No one touches my hands.Ever.Wrath passes over every divot and scar with a tender caress. I struggle to remain composed as I go breathlessly still. He does it again. I had aimed to throw Wrath off with flirtation, but now, with only a touch, he is the one catapulting me off a cliffside. Wrath’s body is warm as it eclipses mine, all corded muscle and broad chest silently beckoning me to press against it.
“Oh, you know…” I shrug lazily. “Just another day of bringingr-ruinto your kingdom…”
A roughish grin forms on his face. It’s the second time I’veseen him smile. “It’s still here. Are you sure your master plan is working?” Wrath taunts.
“The Warlord always says… that victory is not in the clash of s-swords—” I waver on my feet, stumbling slightly. “But forcing y-your enemy to kneel by willpower and… prestige—or something.”
“It’s willpower and unseen influence,” Wrath corrects me. “But close enough.”
“Riveting,” I reply, unimpressed that he also knows the lines. Someone with his family’s name wrote the book—I’m not sure who—so of course, he’s familiar with its contents.
Pride shines in his gaze. “You truly have the whole book memorized.”
Neither of us drifts away from the other, locked in a battle of wills. I study his features, looking for a crack in his facade so I may slip inside. His dark lashes lower as he slides his hand down, looping his thumb between my pinky and ring finger. It’s not a complete handhold, yet the touch feels so intimate that a small breath escapes my lips.
“So do you,” I point out, dropping his hand and walking away. My room is a few corridors away, if I could make it on my own without succumbing to the wine. “Why do you have the pages memorized?”
Wrath follows me. “You think my only skill is slaughter?”
I laugh. “You’re right, the destroyer of peace must mean something else.”
“Where did you find a copy of that book?” he asks.
“I stole it from Cathros’s library.” My steps are uneven. “When you’re trapped within a castle… you end up having alotof free time.”
“And now you have busy days?” Wrath’s question holds a quiet triumph.
“Yes,” I huff. “I have a job, friends, and this Elvarran kingwho keeps finding himself in my presence.” My gaze narrows at Wrath to emphasize my last point.
He hums. “Where do you work?”
