Page 104 of Black Sea

61

I arrived at the guest rooms on the first floor of the main palace building and strode down the corridor, which was brightly lit by large windows on the east side, with glass candelabras hanging from the star-vaulted ceilings. My footsteps were quiet on the stone tiles, helping me hear which room Amlach’s breath was coming from.

I entered without knocking and shut the door behind me, turning the key into the lock so hard that I almost broke it.

Amlach stood by one of the two full-wall windows in the sitting room preceding the bedroom with a bathroom, the royal blue of his robes contrasting with the light-colored curtains. His gaze was fixed on Lake Caran, beyond which the treetops of the Forest of Witches, and even further, the outlines of the hills of the Kingdom of Men could be seen.

I moved closer until my reflection appeared in the glass, drawing his attention.

“You look like you want to kill me,” he mocked me.

“You don’t have to do it,” I said impulsively.

He huffed through his nose. “Nauriel.” Through his reflection in the glass, I saw him close his eyes. “It’s already a miracle that my head is still attached to my neck.” He stepped away from the window, leaning his buttocks against the top of the ivory couch’s wooden backrest, arms folded over his chest. “Your mother told me she was the one who convinced the king not to execute me for trying to invade Aegel.” His eyes swept over me in a way that set my blood on fire. “You must have been very passionate when you told our adventure, because she also said she did it for you. And that if I dare break my word, she will make me bitterly regret it. Personally.”

So my feelings for Amlach were so evident that she’d read them, too. And she was repulsed by that, like my father; otherwise, she would have opposed the idea of Amlach marrying another elf.

She had saved his life just so she wouldn’t see me suffer.

I clenched my fists and stepped toward Amlach, aiming to stand between his knees, but he had deliberately stretched out his legs to keep me at a distance. I stared at his boots, seriously thinking about kicking his ankles to create space. He arched an eyebrow, daring me to do it.

I tried to behave civilly and said, “If you talk to my father again, in private, I am sure he would tack on a document signed by you and with a magical seal created by the witches that prevents you from breaking the agreement.”

“Political marriages are almost a common practice among human nobility,” Amlach replied. “For me, it’s not that shocking.” He paused. “Nor that important.”

“It won’t be just one of those girls who gives up on finding her mate,” I said, voice trembling with anger, “but you, too.” He looked at me, confused, so I continued, “You’re part elf. Maybe . . . maybe you’re destined to find a mate as well. That’s why you didn’t marry after your ascension to the throne.” I looked intensely into his eyes. “Are you truly willing to forsake love?”

His mouth lifted slightly to one side. “It’s not love what’s between us, Elf.”

I almost reared back as though I’d been stabbed in the chest.

“I didn’t have you down as a romantic,” he added with arrogance.

“And I didn’t have you down as a—” I stopped, realizing that there was no bad word for him in Elvish, since we were not cruel by nature.

Amlach sensed what was on my mind and flashed a smile that was both amused and cruel as he grasped the top of the backrest. “As a . . . what?”

His attitude made me see red and, before I could refrain myself, I snarled, “An asshole.”

He burst into a throaty laugh that made me so embarrassed I bolted for the door without thinking twice.

“You have no idea yet how much of an asshole I can be, Nauriel,” Amlach said.

The dark tone in his voice gave me a shudder that spider-walked down my spine and caused me to hesitate with my fingers on the key in the lock. The next moment, I turned it, threw the door open, and slammed it shut behind me.

62

The following evening, everything was ready for the celebrations.

My handmaidens worked tirelessly to sew a very special dress. A dress that would make me stand out.

A dress that would keep Amlach from looking at any other elf.

I admired it in the tall mirror that had been brought into my rustic sitting room, while my maids finished preparing me.

The organza skirt, in shades of dark fuchsia, eggplant, and light antique purple, had a soft, loose line and distanced itself from my figure. The floral details on the bodice appeared to be directly attached to my skin, subtly showcasing my small breast curves without crossing into vulgarity. My pointed shoes were crafted from semi-transparent lace with delicate amethyst embellishments, like the gem on the gold tiara resting on my forehead.

But it wouldn’t be the bold color of my gown that would draw attention: It would be the fact that my skin was visible.