Sleeping Gods, he’s so gorgeous, and I’m not the only one looking. Everyone seems to be staring at him.
He cleans up nicely,I think, and almost laugh, because he was just as striking half-naked, with his silvery hair sticking up in all directions and his arms covered in blood.
But now he’s dressed in dark leggings and tall black boots, a white shirt on top, his hair still wet and combed back. Every line of his powerful body is outlined by his clothes, and every line of his handsome face is cast in stark relief. He seems to draw the tremulous light of the chandeliers swinging overhead.
It glints on the studs of the collar. He’s still wearing it. Why?
Then everyone’s gaze returns to me. Or not precisely to me, I belatedly realize, but to the man coming to stand beside me.
Lord Eorl.
It’s such an odd feeling, to turn my head and see another man standing beside me, a man who isn’t Valen. At first, I think he’ll take my hand or wrap an arm around me, but he makes no such move.
And then I remember that this is how it’s supposed to be.
Gods, Rosie,I scold myself.A few days in the wilderness, and suddenly Valen’s loose werewolf morals and wild customs became the norm? Get your head on straight.
This is where you belong. Not out in the wild, washing in cold streams and sleeping in caves.
More guests gather as Lord Eorl leads the way toward the long tables, his quick glance at me the only indication I’m to follow by his side. As we did back home, he sits at the top of the long table in the middle, and he nods at the chair beside him for me to sit.
Shocked murmurs rise from the gathered guests as I take it. I wipe my sweaty palms on my dress and lick my dry lips, gazing around at all the nobles, most of them human with the occasional high fae.
One of them has a lesser fae collared, on a leash, and that makes me think of Valen back home. My throat closes with regret.
Where is Valen? I’m so aware of him, my gaze instantly finding him still standing at the other end of the hall, and I almost lift my hand to gesture him closer, when I realize…
I realize that’s where he will sit. Far away from me. That’s his place now, among the other, lesser guests, while I sit beside the lord of the manor.
As everyone sits down, Lord Eorl remains standing and gestures for me to stand as well. The whispers and giggling stop, and a hush falls over the hall.
“My lords and ladies,” Lord Eorl says. His voice is grave and carries nicely over the assembly. He has a presence, too, an aura of power, and I would have been impressed if I hadn’t known Valen. Valen’s presence is a mountain compared to the gentle hill that is Lord Eorl. “Settle down. I have an important announcement to make.”
“Hear, hear!” someone calls out. “Be quiet!”
“Welcome to my home.” Lord Eorl’s gaze travels over the hall. “We are gathered here to celebrate the turning of the season, as is our custom, but today we have one more reason to celebrate. We have had the unexpected pleasure of the arrival of our betrothed.”
The murmurs and mutterings start again instantly.
“Lady Rosamund Briar,” he speaks over the rising noise, “has arrived today and is here with us. Here, right by my side. I give you Lady Rosamund.”
Unsure of what to do, I curtsy slightly, a hot blush spreading over my face.
“It is our pleasure to announce our future marriage and the merging of the Houses Eorl and Briar,” he goes on, “as well as our estates, in two weeks’ time from now.”
I glance sharply at him. We haven’t even had a real introduction or conversation yet. Haven’t discussed my family, or his… or the wedding. I thought I’d have some say in this matter.
But is it important? The sooner we get married, the better. And it’s not like my family will attend the wedding, not after what they did. Eventually, I’ll have to tell Lord Eorl what they did, how they tried to kill me. They will never be invited.
Valen is looking at me from across the hall, a broad-shouldered figure at the other end of the banquet table, his silver-gray head bowed.
I swear I can feel his gaze on me, as if checking I’m all right.
The distance between us feels greater than ever. It’s a chasm, a sea stretching between where I’m sitting and him, greater than the few yards that actually separate us.
It’s done. I’ve been proclaimed Lord Eorl’s future wife, lady of his manor, partner in his estates and business, as was the plan. Now I can no longer pretend I’m someone else, someone free to act as I want, act on impulses and desires.
What other choice is there?
