He’s suddenly looming over me again, his chest so near mine, Ifeelhis heart beating. I try to dissolve, but my great-grandmother’s wards keep my cells locked tight. So tight that mylungs feel devoid of air. When he reaches around me, I grip the carved wooden lip of the desk with two hands.
“What are you doing?” My voice sounds ridiculously husky. He better not misinterpret my panic for attraction.
“Giving you the ring.” He pulls back, adds a foot of space between our bodies, then presents me with a blue velvet box.
Was it on his table the whole time and I missed it?
“Just wear it and tell whoever asks questions that I gave it to you as a sign of my appreciation for Crows. Or tell them nothing. You don’t have to explain yourself.”
My lips pop open in astonishment that he’s changed his tune about parting with something of such great sentimental value. Especially when a minute ago, he was adamant we marry. And not evenfakemarry.
Though I still cling to the desk at my back, my knuckles have unclenched considerably. “Can you imagine if we had this whole spat, and it isn’t eventhering?”
His pupils dilate, then shrink. “You mean I might’ve just made a fool of myself for nothing?”
“Not for nothing. I’m now in possession of a most entertaining marriage proposal. Which I cannot wait to relay to my family.”
“Gods, help me,” he murmurs, scrubbing his face with the hand not holding the box.
I grin.
When he lowers his hand, amusement has softened his own expression. “You will end up being the death of me, Miss Ríhbiadh.”
I tap his chest, meaning to remind him of the medallion. He must misinterpret my gesture because his smile vanishes and his pulse goes wild.
“Relax, Vizosh. I wasn’t about to carve your heart out. I was just going to point out that it’s safe, thanks to the Cauldron andMimi. Now, let’s see it.” When he doesn’t open the box, I tilt my head. “Konstantin?”
Still no reaction. Did I accidentally stun him with a spell? A glance at my fingertip reveals it’s not bleeding. Reassuring, although it does make me wonder why he seized up this time.
“The ring?” I say, keeping my voice soft.
A shudder races across the stiff line of his shoulders, and he thumbs open the box almost manically. Though unsoiled, the heirloom is unmistakable—with its razor-sharp edges and myriad of facets. I tip my stare back to Konstantin’s, trying to fathom why the Cauldron insists I wear a Korol heirloom while killing a woman who must, in some way, be connected to Alyona.
Why, Cauldron?
“It’s not my ring that you wear, is it?” Uncertainty infuses his stare with shadows, and his tone with…dejection?If he’d been correct, shouldn’t he have been elated?
“Is it such an unusual cut and color that you’d be the only one to possess an octagonal blue diamond?”
He frowns, as though unsure why I care about the heirloom’s uniqueness. “My father forbade jewelers from replicating the cut onanystone. He wanted my mother’s ring to be unique.”
I sigh. “Then, I’m afraid that, yes, Konstantin Korol, it…”
The air suddenly shivers with voices, and then Konstantin’s door sweeps open and in trots Izolda. She blinks at me while I jolt—flinching once more when the door settles in its frame with a sharp click.
Her striped stare captures the scene before her. “Did I just…did I just walk in on a marriage proposal?”
I moisten my throat with a swallow.
Before I can explain, she cries out, “You two are mates, aren’t you!” She claps excitedly. “I sensed it!”
When her eyes begin to shine with tears, panic grips me. Throttles me.
Konstantin closes the ring box with a snap. “Iz…”
“I’m sorry for barging in on your private moment.” She blots her eyes on her index fingers, careful not to smudge the gold stripes she’s matched to her gold gown. “They’re tears of joy,” she croaks. “You don’t know how many nights I’ve fallen asleep dreaming that my brother would someday find true love like I have.”
Color weaves through Konstantin’s pallor.
