The problem wasn’t him. It was me.
And on top of everything, it seemed I’d forgotten basic manners because I never even thanked him for what he’d done for me.
A hundred years.
What would that do to him?
Would he reach a certain age then feel the moment his life changed?
The Fae lived for a long time. What if the hundred years he was supposed to live were going to be his happiest?
We’d never know.
The handmaiden stepped back, pulling me out of my daze. She admired her work. "You look lovely, my Lady."
“Thank you.” I gave her a warm smile, even though I felt far from lovely.
“I just need to finish your hair.”
The handmaiden was just securing the last pin in my elaborate braid when the door opened without so much as a knock.
Thayden stepped inside, filling the doorway with his presence. He was impeccably dressed as always—burgundy velvet doublet with gold thread embroidery, his dark blond hair perfectly styled. But there was something in the way he carried himself that made the air in the room tighten.
The handmaidens froze, their hands stilling on my hair and dress. It seemed I wasn’t the only one who found him unsettling. It was good to know, but I was the one who had to marry him.
By default, my stomach was already in knots just from the sight of him, but now I couldn’t unsee the nightmare vision of Thayden Erethis had shown me.
Now I was trapped with therealversion.
"Ladies," Thayden said, his voice smooth as silk. He inclined his head in what might have passed for courtesy if you didn't look too closely at his eyes. "Would you mind giving my betrothed and me a moment alone?"
It wasn't a request.
The older handmaiden—the one who'd been working on my corset—curtsied quickly. "Of course, my Lord. We were nearly finished anyway."
"Wonderful," he replied, that polite smile never wavering. But I caught the way his fingers drummed once against his thighin a barely-contained rhythm that spoke of impatience beneath the veneer.
The younger girl gathered the ribbons and pins with trembling hands, casting a nervous glance between Thayden and me.
The reaction made me wonder what she’d seen or heard about him.
I’d never forget the man Thayden had punished for stealing bread to feed his family. But that was only one thing I was sure of. There were other things, otherterriblethings I suspected him of but could never prove. And I was sure the list had grown substantially over the years that I’d been cursed.
With his gaze trained on me, Thayden stepped aside to let the handmaidens pass.
They curtsied again as they went by and hurried out, leaving me alone with him.
The door clicked shut behind them with a finality that made my skin crawl.
I brought my hands together to stop them from shaking. It didn’t work, but at least he couldn’t see them.
Thayden moved deeper into the room with that measured grace of his, hands clasped behind his back like he was strolling through a garden.
"You look radiant," he said, his tone warm and appreciative as his gaze swept over me. "That shade of blue suits your skin perfectly. I chose well."
He’d chosen everything for me. From my dress to my hair, every little detail had been decided by him.
"The seamstresses outdid themselves," I managed, forcing politeness into my voice.
