Perhaps her enormous betrothal ring will coax a smile.
Our gazes lock briefly before her eyes drop to my chest plate. Her shoulders stiffen, mouth parting with surprise—she’s realized I’m not her intended. And she does not look pleased.
Will she throw a tantrum, or has her father taught her some diplomacy?
I reach the dais, and Tormik regards me with a disdainful look. “Prince Zevayr. We weren’t expectingyou. Has Prince Faramir been delayed?”
“Faramir sends his regrets.” His fingers tighten on the long staff clutched in his grasp. “I’ll perform the ceremony in his stead and deliver his betrothed to Arbinj for the wedding.”
The princess stiffens.
Tormik’s scowl somehow deepens. He’s worse than my father. “It is beyond insulting that Varad expects me to betroth my heir viaproxy.”
I give him a one-shouldered shrug, and a wave of outraged murmurs sweeps through the hall.
“Prince Zevayr,” the princess says sharply, commanding my attention. “Recently, several warriors returned severely injured from the border.Afterthe ceasefire was negotiated.”
I rake my gaze over her, schooling my face into impassivity, though surprise sparks inside me. I’d not expected her to be so bold. The surprise quickly morphs into anger—my father had explained the miscommunication in his letter. Why bring it up again, especially right before the betrothal? Is this some political maneuver?
My stormwielding responds to my rising temper. The sunlight dwindles, and a rumble of thunder threatens of the storm to come. I fill my lungs with air, soothing the angry beat of my heart.
“My apologies, Princess,” I finally manage. She’s gone pale, eyes darting to the windows. “We had reason to believe that particular battalion was planning an attack. I only received notice of the ceasefire afterward.”
She seems surprised by my apology, dipping her chin in the faintest nod, which is more than I expected.
“Shall we begin the ceremony, King Tormik?” I ask, turning to her father.
The arrogant asshole doesn’t respond, but at least he vacates the throne and descends the dais. I climb the steps, not missing how the princess cranes her neck to look up at me. She’s a tiny wisp of a thing. Faramir is going to break her in half. A surge of sympathy crackles through me before I can shove it down.
Enemy. She’s my enemy. Daughter of Tormik, murderer of Lev.
I don’t care what happens to her.
Deftly, I unstrap my helmet for the ceremony, setting it down beside the throne and raking a hand through my matted hair. Princess Mayah’s gaze is riveted to my face, lips parted and eyes wide.
I smirk at her. Undoubtedly, she expected the Dark Commander to look monstrous.
She doesn’t avert her gaze or blush as I expected. Instead, her blue eyes narrow into a defiant glare. My smile slowly fades as I study her—she’s not afraid of me. Interesting.
Tormik clears his throat, and she tears her gaze away.
I drop my voice, addressing only her. “Before the ceremony, I need a demonstration of your powers.” Retrieving a dagger from my belt, I cut a deep slash into my palm. If Tormik lied about her healing affinity, I’m going to be really fucking pissed.
Bright red blood oozes from the wound, dripping onto the icy dais. The princess purses her lips.And if I left you bleeding?her eyes seem to say.
Such a tiny thing with such a ferocious temper.
I arch my brow in challenge.
She sighs loudly, then reaches for my hand. A spark skitters across my skin. Despite all the disdain she’s shown me, her touch is surprisingly gentle—must be her healer’s training.
Her hand begins to glow with white light, and she passes it over my cut. Within seconds, the wound heals. My skin mends itself together, the gash vanishing, leaving my palm seamless. Not even a scar left behind.
I exhale sharply. Envy burns hot in my blood—these people have waterwieldersandhealers. They can cause terrible, unthinkable pain while healing away their own.
A pained, garbled moan.
Snatching back my freshly healed hand, I retrieve Faramir’s ring from my cloak. In the dark velvet box is a massive blackdiamond ring. It’s just like Faramir—hideous but outrageously valuable. I’d expected Mayah’s eyes to go round with delight, but she frowns instead, brows pinched.
