Page 109 of Black Sea

And I wanted to rip their eyes out.

“We’ll leave you to get to know each other,” Mother said, beaming.

My expression turned grim in the blink of an eye. But before I could begin protesting fiercely, putting on a show, my mother put her hand in the crook of my elbow and dragged me away to entertain the guests.

Nevertheless, as we moved along the bridges or up the steps, I never lost sight of Amlach.

And he never lost sight of me.

Amidst all that perfection, Amlach was so imperfect that it took my breath away. From the wrinkles that formed around his eyes whenever he smiled to his slightly disheveled, wavy hair—every detail that set him apart from us elves attracted me like a moth to a flame. And the fact that he was taller than any other male in the hall drove me wild.

It was as if he were a god.

And within minutes, other guests approached him, intrigued by his aura saturated with seduction.

At one moment, I caught sight of one of my cousins touching his arm and bursting into a silvery laugh. My soul roared like a beast, and I was ready to lunge at her with the intention of breaking her humerus and all the phalanges in her hand.

Suddenly, a dark figure blocked my way and grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to turn away from Amlach and my cousins.

“Easy, Sister,” he ordered in Elvish.

“Araton,” I gasped in surprise.

He moved my hair behind my shoulder and, peering down at my dress, gave a slight shake of his head with a resigned sigh.

“You came,” I said, feeling emotional as I ran a hand over the copper embroidery of his lead gray tunic.

Araton nodded. “I understood how tough this evening would be for you.” He understood how hard it would be to see Amlach announce his engagement to another woman. “And I . . . I didn’t want you to go through it alone.”

“Araton . . .” I hesitated. I didn’t want to make him mad again or persist in recalling the atrocious memory of Serie through my behavior. But I needed to talk about it. I needed to say it out loud. “Amlach is—”

“Yes,” he interjected, in a despondent tone. “I know.”

I batted my lashes in an attempt to ward off tears. “But he doesn’t feel it.”

His gaze drifted above my head, and by the way it hardened, I knew Amlach was watching us.

“He feels it, believe me,” Araton said.

Anger burned in my chest. “Then why—”

My brother took my hands, squeezing them until I lifted my gaze to his, so desolate. “Because he’s not like us, Sister. He is a king, and his people must come before anything else.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “Plus, he knows our father would never approve.”

I closed my eyes, trying with all of myself to keep control over my emotions.

Meanwhile, our mother excused herself from the family she and her mate were conversing with and slid her arm into Araton’s elbow crook, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Hello, darling,” she whispered in his ear, as if she somehow knew he would show up despite everything.

“Just in time,” Father said, tossing a knowing look at his son as he held out his hand to me. “Dinner is about to be served.”

Resisting the urge to check Amlach’s position and whether my cousins had huddled around him even more, I took my father’s hand. He brought it to his lips and gently kissed my fingers, his gaze expressing both understanding of my pain and appreciation that I hadn’t opposed him further.

I tried to smile at him. I told myself to be a good daughter and heir as I let him guide me to our table.

But within me, a single, deafening command arose.

Rise up.