Then—“Yes,” I rasp. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
I trace her cheek reverently. Mayah is to bemy wife.
“I should have done this the night we danced beneath the stars,” I murmur. “Know that it will always be my greatest regret.”
And then I kiss my betrothed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
I’veneverfelttruehappiness before this moment—before I’d learned the feeling of her soft lips moving against mine. Every other moment of contentment, fleeting and few, pales in comparison to the intense joy sparking through my every nerve.
I’m ravenous after weeks of aching to do just this—devour her. My fingers grip her chin, angling her mouth so I can kiss her deeper, pulling her flush against me. Mayah moans sweetly as I lick into her mouth, parting her lips for me as she sinks into my chest.
His ring. She’s still wearing his ring.
The unwelcome thought has me pulling away, shaking fingers tugging off the hideous monstrosity that’s mocked me every time I’ve laid eyes on it.
“Take off his ring,” I growl. It clatters to the floor, forgotten. “I’ll get you another one.”
And then I kiss her again, unable to bear the distance between us for another second. This time, I savor my betrothed, slanting my lips over hers with a slow reverence, cupping her face. Herhands clutch my tunic, her soft moans driving me insane.Skies, she wants me, too. The thought nearly sends me to my knees. Mayah tastes divine, and it takes all my self-restraint to keep this only to a kiss.
I never want this moment to end.
Her kiss is the peace I didn’t know I needed, a contentment in my chest where there’d only been loss and grief and hopelessness.
Slowly, reluctantly, I draw back. Her knees buckle, and I steady her against me with a low chuckle. She’s panting, smiling at me with so much affection, it nearly undoes me. I find myself grinning back.
“Let’s go tell them,” I whisper.
Hands intertwined, we walk back into the throne room. My father’s arms are crossed with impatience, while Faramir cleans his nails with a dagger.
Mayah doesn’t wait for me to take the lead. “I have thought long and hard on your proposal,” she says, voice loud and steady. “I would be honored to marry Prince Zevayr, Second Son of Arbinj, Commander of the Arbinji armies.”
My father frowns, his eyes dropping to our joined hands. The permanent scowl he wears somehow deepens. “I would advise thinking on it harder, Princess. You are theheirto Tundrayn. Its future queen.” When Mayah doesn’t respond, he adds, “If you refuse, you’d be welcome to return home, of course.”
Sharp pinpricks skitter across my neck, down my spine. The feeling is so unexpected, I nearly scratch my neck before I manage to stop myself, tensing into a statue.
My neck hasn’t prickled in weeks. Not since I left Arbinj. Not since I’ve been alone with Mayah. I’d forgotten what it felt like to be confronted with deceit on a daily basis, perpetually tense and uncomfortable.
My father is a fucking liar. He has no intention of letting Mayah return home. My fingers tighten around her hand.
“That won’t be necessary,” Mayah says, casting me a sideways glance, flexing her fingers in my grasp. “Please inform my father. I am certain in my decision. The Rebellion grows ever stronger—they were bold enough to attack our entourage. It’s time our people were joined as one.”
Faramir finally deigns to look up, eyes sharpening with interest. His gaze, too, drops to our joined hands, and his lips curl into a cruel smile I know all too well.
My father is silent for several heartbeats.
We’ve left him with no choice, and he knows it.
“Wonderful,” he says tightly. “The wedding will occur in a fortnight—”
“Tomorrow,” I cut in. “The wedding will be tomorrow.”
“So eager for your nuptials, brother?” Faramir sneers, his attention still fixed on Mayah. I grit my teeth.
My father frowns. “That’s not enough time to plan a wedding. The nobles—”
“Tensions are high with Tundrayn. The Rebellion is growing stronger. We can’t afford delay. The sooner we stand united, the better. Keep the wedding simple,” I say, waving a hand. “You can spare the opulence for the second son.”
