“Princess Mayah of Tundrayn, on behalf of my brother, Crown Prince Faramir of Arbinj, I accept you as his betrothed. I vow to protect you from all harm and deliver you to him safely. Lightning strike me should I fail.”
I reach for her hand when—
“It is customary in Tundrayn for the man to kneel before his intended when accepting her as his betrothed,” Tormik drawls, arms crossed over his chest.
My neck prickles. Lying bastard. His staff dangles loosely from his fingers, and I want to shove it down his throat. My hands curl into tight fists, and a powerful rumble of thunder shakes the hall.
“Would you dishonor my daughter?” Tormik demands when I don’t kneel.
My jaw clenches. He intends to humiliate me. But what the fuck can I do without revealing my truthwielding? Without breaking the fragile alliance?
“I would never dishonor my brother’s intended,” I bite out. Before I can change my mind and incinerate everyone in this skiesdamned hall, I drop to my knees and grab the princess’s hand, keeping my gaze fixed to hers. Her eyes are wide—I like it more than I should, that I keep surprising this princess who thinks me a monster.
Slowly, I slide my brother’s ring onto her finger. She stares at her hand as though she can’t believe it’s real, a myriad of emotions tumbling through her blue gaze. I rise, pulling her up along with me, thrusting our joined hands into the air.
“The new princess of Arbinj!” I announce.
I’m met with silence.
My grip tightens around her hand. Tormik ascends the dais, joints cracking, and embraces his daughter, but I still don’trelinquish my hold. I’m not entirely sure why. It’s a fleeting moment between them—a cold, stiff hug, Mayah’s one hand still clasped in mine.
Tormik releases her and turns to me. “We’ve prepared a feast tonight, and a grand celebration tomorrow. The servants will show your party to—”
“That won’t be necessary,” I cut him off, waving a hand. “We return to Arbinj within the hour. Enough time for the princess to pack her belongings.”
In my periphery, Mayah gapes at me, her energy signature pulsing in outrage.
Tormik’s face reddens, knuckles blanching around his staff. “We have spared no effort in preparing for this occasion. You insult both my daughter and Tundrayn,” he hisses.
“That is not my intention,” I reply, hoping to appease him. If not for the waterwielders here, I’d have knocked him onto his knees with his own staff. “I was tasked with delivering the princess immediately. Your efforts are appreciated and not unnoticed.”
Angry muttering drifts through the charged air. I cast a narrowed gaze around the hall. Baleful glares and open hatred greet me in the crowd.
Fuck. We need to leaveimmediately. “I’ve also brought the first shipment of food stores. Plenty of meat and grains.”
The hall quiets.Starving heathens. My father’s voice flits through my mind, a flicker of pity blooming in my chest. There are children here.
A man stalks over, tall and broad, dark hair hanging in long braids over his shoulders. He wears shining armor over blue and white furs, narrowed eyes fixed on mine and Mayah’s still-joined hands.
He’s going to be a problem—it’s clear in the tight set of his jaw, in the angry pulse of his energy signature.
“You can’t expect the princess to be ready for travel in an hour,” he snarls, stopping before us.
“You are?” I ask, lips curled with disdain.
“The captain of the royal guard.” His eyes flit to Mayah, gleaming with possessiveness, and a torrent of anger surges through me at his entitlement. I just slid a betrothal ring onto her finger—my ring or not. Who the fuck does he think he is?
A powerful thunderclap rings out, followed by a quick flash of lightning. Mayah squeezes my hand, and my head snaps toward her. Did she mean to do that? Was it a plea to stop? She’s not looking at me, though, her wide gaze fixed on Tormik.
“It’s all right, Father,” she says, voice steady. “I’m ready to begin my new life.”
I snatch the opportunity to lead her down the hall, my soldiers flanking us.
“Guards,” the insufferable captain calls from behind us. “Accompany the princess.”
My feet stop of their own accord, irritation flaring in my gut.
“That won’t be necessary,” I grunt without turning. “She is a princess of Arbinj now. She is undermyprotection.”
