So formal.
So distant.
Iaoth’s attention dragged from Vaeron to me. A slow, sinister smile bloomed on her lips, devouring her beauty and peeling open the madness beneath. There was nothing inviting about the ice-blue in her eyes. Nor did I think her capable of such warmth.
I dropped my head, unable to dip into a curtsey as was proper to greet a noble.
“Rise,” the Korona purred, and I lifted my gaze. The Issaraeth straightened to his full height, a head taller than his sister. And yet, she was the most intimidating figure in this garden.
None of the gathered nobles seemed anything more than bored with the proceedings. But beneath their air of indifference, the weight of their judgement sank claws into my shoulders.
I nearly jumped, nerves strung tight, as Maelsar appeared at my side, claiming Vaeron’s place in ferrying me to the Korona. She watched with rapt interest as I hobbled forward, the intensity of her stare like teeth tearing away my flesh while I was stillalive.
My fingers locked over the handles of wood, and I was grateful to have something to anchor me.
“This is Sylaira. The Goddess blessed her with the power of Sight,” Vaeron introduced me. But he said nothing more.
So no to revealing our bond right away.
Relief washed through me.
“So powerful,” she trilled, raking her regard from my silvery hair to the boots hidden beneath my skirt and back. “I cannot wait to hear all the futures you reveal.”
I said nothing. Because if I opened my mouth, I wouldn’t be able to hold back my opinion.
“But you are injured?” She turned her attention to her brother—finally. “She is injured?”
“Broken kneecap due to an…incident during her capture,” he explained. His tone was perfectly neutral and entirely formal. The male I’d shared a bed with was gone, the weapon he’d spent centuries honing standing in his stead.
The way he’d shifted roles so seamlessly pricked suspicion in the back of my mind. For some reason, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something terrible was about to happen.
“Well she won’t be needing to move much anyway.”
The silence after her words was brutal, and not a single person surrounding me flinched.
I stuck my tongue into my cheek, trying to remain calm when every muscle was primed like a jaguar waited in the trees above, ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.
Vaeron remained silent. The Korona snapped her fingers without looking away from him. From the line, a female stepped forward. Stark white hair, aquamarine irises, and curves accentuated by a dress cinched at the waist, she walked with a sultry sway of her hips directly toward us.
She was stunning—painfully, unfairly so. The kind of beauty painters and sculptors begged to capture.
“It is a good thing you arrived when you did. You were almost late for your vows, brother. Koron Stadiel would not have stood for it.”
Vows?
The word echoed through my mind like a tolling temple bell.
The female stopped beside the Korona, a practiced, alluring grin emerging. Beside Iaoth, she didn’t just shine—she eclipsed. “Vaeron. You didn’t write. I was beginning to think you didn’t care.”
“Dasha,” he replied, her name tense in his mouth. So unlike when he spoke the shape of mine.
A vicious gleam appeared in his sister’s eye. “Come on, Vaeron, that is no way to greet your betrothed after months apart.”
***
The throne room was cold—far colder than the late spring should have allowed. It was as if it had been Commanded to remember winter and forget warmth.
Just like him.
