Page 19 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

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Hours later, my feet ached from dancing, my cheeks ached from smiling, and my tight dress was squeezing my ribs.

Lor held me in his arms as we danced, surrounded by everyone who’d come to celebrate the marriage of the new king and queen of Fairwitch Isle. Bodies were packed into the throne room, trays floating past us as hands grabbed flutes of champagne off them.

He looked handsome today as candles floated high above us, washing the room in the warm glow of the flickering light. His hair hung to his shoulders, a dark brown that was almost black, and his white silk shirt was only halfway buttoned, showing his toned chest underneath with a dusting of thick dark hair. I wondered if I kept unbuttoning that silk shirt if it would show a sculpted abdomen as well.

I wondered how Fairwitch would feel knowing that I now reigned in their throne room, that the very Castle they’d made sentient had chosen me as its queen. I didn’t want to think about Fairwitch tonight, not on what was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

“You look lovely,” Lor said as we swayed back and forth, my hand clutched in his, his hand gripping my waist tight, warm enough that I could feel the heat of it through the fabric of my dress.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re looking grand yourself.”

He shot me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, tired and . . . unhappy, maybe? I didn’t know him well enough to read that smile.

My stomach clenched, and I wondered if he was still upset with me over how I’d reacted when I’d first awoken. We admittedly hadn’t seen a lot of each other since that day, both of us so busy figuring out our roles, how we’d move forward, we’d been like passing ships.

“Did you enjoy the ceremony?” he asked, and I tensed.

I hadn’t expected to be married in the temple of the love and relationship godwitch. They weren’t the worst of the godwitches, and they hadn’t owned slaves. They were the godwitch of love, after all, and slavery went against their morals. But they were still a godwitch; they’d still attended other godwitches temples and homes where slaves were present. They hadn’t joined in our uprising to overthrow the godwitches.

“It was a wedding,” I said simply. “I attended many of them in my time as a slave.”

Whenever Fairwitch was invited to a wedding, I had to attend as well, answering to their every request before, during, and after the ceremony.

Ambrose danced past us, a mortal blond in his arms, as he twirled her around. I’d had to end things when Lor and I got betrothed, and he’d been distant ever since.

Lor and I continued to sway at our own rhythm, at odds with the fast tempo of the violin and flute harmonies drifting through the air.

“I’m sorry,” Lor said, genuine sympathy in his voice. “I’m sure so much of this is difficult when you have such horrible memories. I hope as queen and king, we can rectify the mistakes of the past.”

I raised my chin, smiling at him. “Me too.”

He huffed a laugh.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, his face sobering.

“Tell me. What’s so funny?”

He swallowed, then met my gaze. “Not funny, exactly, but when you smile, it’s infectious. You smile so rarely, but when you do, it’s like I can’t help but smile as well.”

The comment caught me so off-guard I’d stopped dancing, not even realizing it. Maybe this marriage truly wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Eventually, the music died down, the candles slowly flickering out one by one. Everyone began filing out of the room, stopping to wish us their final congratulations of the night until it was completely empty, just Lor and me, the moonlight slashing in through the floor-to-ceiling windows on either side of us.

My heart hammered. I wasn’t sure what happened now. In typical marriages, I knew what occurred after the wedding, of course. But this wasn’t a typical marriage. I hadn’t even been staying in the castle the last few months, preferring to sleep outside, under the stars, where I felt a freedom I hadn’t in the castle.

Before either of us could say anything, the floor began shifting. I stumbled into Lor, and he wrapped his arms around me, his musky scent swallowing me as the entire throne room disappeared, stones building on top of each other to create stairs.

“I think it wants us to go this way.” Lor nodded his head toward the stairs.

We walked up them, Lor leading me until the stones dropped around us, creating a floor, walls, and a single door at the end of the hallway.

My husband was still clutching me tight to him, his heart pounding in rhythm with mine, an unreadable expression on his face. He grabbed my hand, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. “I want to show you something.”

He led me down the hallway, and my heels clicked on the stone floor as I let him pull me along. I had no idea what he wanted to show me. My room? His room? My heart pounded. Our room?