Long, black chiffon flows down her legs from a tight matching bodice, while little sleeves swoop below her shoulders. Her normally straight hair is partially braided, the rest sweeping loose around her back, while her head is decorated with a dainty gold circlet.
With her regal clothes and a dusting of crimson on her lips, she looks so…
“Beautiful,” I murmur.
Dahlia stops chasing Pumpkin. Her smile falls as she turns my way. “Did you say something?”
Clearing my throat, I stand up. “I’ve arranged for a carriage to collect us at midmoon. We’ll be visiting the night market tonight. You need a gown for our wedding, and you’ll be able to choose something you like there.”
“Oh…” Pumpkin gnaws on her skirt, but she ignores her. “And how far is this night market?” Something sparks in her gaze. “I suppose if it’s outside the castle, you’ll have to?—”
“I will not be removing your collar,” I reply before she can ask. “The enchantment will follow me from the castle, and I’ll be tightening it so you cannot leave my side.”
“Wonderful.” She scowls, all hope dying in her eyes. “Can’t you just pick a gown for me? I really don’t care what I wear to your ridiculous wedding.”
“Ourwedding,” I correct her. “The designer needs to meet you today so he has time to alter the gown you choose to your measurements. Unless you’d rather wear nothing at all.” My voice deepens. “I’m sure my court would not complain.”
Her face flushes my new favourite colour. “Fine. If you insist on it, I’ll go. But I want Claren to come with us.”
“Claren?” I choke. “What possible reason could you have for wanting that whiny?—”
“He’s not whiny.” She frowns. “And I actually quite enjoyed his company. We had fun riding together.”
“It looked like he could barely keep up with you.”
“I don’t care. I just want him to come with us.”
My eyes narrow at the fear in her tone. “Are you afraid of being alone with me?”
“Do you even need to ask after what you put me through in the stable?” She won’t meet my gaze. “Claren was nice to me, and right now I trust him a lot more than I trust you. If you insist on me travelling to this night market with you, then I want him there with us. Those are my terms.”
Frustration lodges in my throat. My little brother could come, I suppose. But it’s been a while since I’ve spent any meaningful time with him. It’s much easier to fill his nights with schooling so I don’t have to look into those eyes that remind me so much of my sister.
I scrub my hand over my jaw, thinking, when Dahlia’s gaze turns cloudy and she stumbles.
I dive forward to catch her waist. “What’s wrong?” I demand, my heart pounding. “Are you sick?”
Shrugging out of my hold, she shakes her head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I just tripped.”
“Didn’t look like it.” Stepping back, I study her small body. She doesn’t look unwell, but there’s an unusual weakness in her stance. When her stomach growls furiously, the realisation hits me. “When did you last eat?” I growl.
“Last night. Maybe. I’m not sure,” she brushes me off. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s just go to this silly market. I’ll pick a dress.” She wobbles on her feet again, and this time I grab her waist and don’t let her go.
“You didn’t eat yesterday, did you?” I sigh. If she left my chambers immediately after waking, she wouldn’t have had any of the food I’d had delivered. But she found Claren, didn’t she? “Did Claren not show you the banquet hall?” I’ll murder him.
“No, no, he offered to bring me food!” She presses a hand against my chest to steady herself. “I just didn’t want it. I told you, I’m not eating any more poisoned demon food. No matter how delicious it is.” She mutters that last part under her breath, but I still hear her.
“You foolish girl.” Before she can protest, I gather her up into my arms and bring her to the chaise longue, Pumpkin bouncing around my heels.
Placing her onto the seat, I signal for the servants. “You. Will. Eat.” I kneel by her side. “I won’t give you a choice, Dahlia. If you do not eat for yourself, then I will force you.” My words are strong, but there’s a softness in my tone I can’t quite get rid off. She looks so helpless lying back against my chaise.
“I’m not touching your poison,” she spits.
“For the last time it was a sedative.” I take her hand to stop it shaking. “Why would I have that whole conversation about taking you gown shopping if my plan was to have you sleep through it all?” An angry tear rolls down her cheek, but I swipe it away, holding her gaze. “The food is safe, sweetheart. I promise you.”
“I don’t trust you.” She tries to push me away, but she’s too weak. “I’m your prisoner and you’ve already drugged me once. How am I supposed to trust you?” Pumpkin jumps into her lap, curling onto her stomach.
“I know, and I’m sorry,” I say honestly. “It was only to help you adjust to our sleeping schedule, but I promise it will never happen again.” A servant hurries in with a plate of steaming porridge and fruit, placing it onto the low table beside us.
