Quandary, apparently sensing the tension, flew up to perch on Cyrene’s shoulder. He glared at Lady Aragorn, puffed his tiny chest, and let out what was clearly meant to be an intimidating growl but sounded more like a kettle boiling over. Small wisps of smoke curled from his nostrils, forming the unmistakable shape of a rude gesture I was certain Cyrene had taught him.
My advisors gasped.
Cyrene bit her lip, fighting a smile.
“If I was enchanted,” I said coolly, “would I be aware of it enough to threaten you?”
“I—that is—” Lord Rathley sputtered.
Cyrene stood beside me, still half in my arms, still breathing too fast. I’d slipped an arm around her waist and was holding her like I’d forgotten how to let go. The realization struck hard, and I released her.
“Perhaps logic was never their strong suit,” she whispered, just loud enough for me to hear.
I fought the twitch at the corner of my mouth. Now was not the time to smile, no matter how accurate her assessment.
“Your Majesty,” Lord Broadworthy said from somewhere to the right, his tone trembling between scandal and awe. “If your goal was to convince thecourt of your bond, this may be enough to convince them.”
The courtyard fell into an awkward silence.
Someone sniffed, clearly not believing.
My uncle cleared his throat, fidgeting with his ceremonial collar. “Most…effective attempt, indeed.” He attempted a knowing smile that looked more like he’d bitten into something sour.
Aunt Madeline fanned herself. “Quite the passionate display of royal affection.” She emphasized the word passionate as if it was both scandalous and enviable.
Lord Rathley was still sputtering, his face cycling through various shades of red and purple. “But the protocol… The decorum…”
“I believe that the king and queen have just established new protocol.” Lord Broadworthy executed a formal bow that barely concealed his amusement. “One that the younger members of court will no doubt find most inspirational.”
I wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Instead, I looked down at the reason my heart was pounding like a drum and spoke evenly. “I believe we’ve provided enough spectacle for one day,” I barked. “Clear the courtyard. All of you.”
When I raised my hand, shadow magic rippled outward, dousing the floating petals and silencing every murmured objection. Everyone scattered, their clothing whispering, their shoes crunching on the stone path. None of them dared look back at us.
Cyrene stepped away from me, her chin lifting. “You don’t need to defend me.”
But I did. In everything.
“You kissed me in front of my entire court,” I said.
“Is that a problem?”
“To them, yes.”
“We’re married. Isn’t it natural for a married couple to kiss?”
“They know we married to solidify a treaty.”
She folded her arms on her chest, tilting her head with infuriating calm. “Oh, forgive me, then. I didn’t realize I should’ve sent a formal request before doing what I could to save this marriage.” She gave me a look that could have melted the marble gargoyles perched below the castle towers. “Your advisors were one snide comment away from calling our marriage a fraud. Now they may not. You’re welcome.”
Fates, she was impossible. Brilliant. Brave. Terrifying. And the worst part of all was that she was right.
“They think I bewitched you,” she said. “Which we both know isn’t true.”
I found myself watching the pulse at her throat, the faint shimmer of magic that still clung to her skin like starlight. Her sweet honey scent filled the cold air.
I swallowed hard. “You’ve made your point. Next time, let’s try to find a less theatrical method of proving our marriage is real.”
Her smile shone with pure mischief. “And rob you of your most exciting council meeting in years?” She stepped closer. “Believe me, I’m just getting started.”
