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But Beric averted his gaze, clearing his throat. “Indeed,” he said.

I tilted my head at him, raising my brows. “No strong opinions of me, my lord? My, that is out of character.”

Beric looked at me and suddenly I felt ashamed. My words had been petty and mean-spirited. Teasing my cousin was one thing, but this didn’t feel like me at all, even if he was the one trying to deter my happily ever after.

But relief quickly overcame the shame when I heard the king laugh. “Beautiful and spirited. It is quite fortunate. We had considered forgoing the public wedding, but we see you shall not embarrass us after all.”

“Thank you, sire,” I murmured. I glanced at Beric, who must have recovered, because his expression was once again severe. Still, I could swear he was blushing … unless that was just a trick of light. Part of me felt bad using his embarrassment as leverage. As for the other part … well, it served him right.

Abruptly, the king stood, causing a frantic wave of bows and curtsies from those who noticed right away, then the ones who took note of the first group, followed by the stragglers who half expected their own demise for daring to converse with friends while the God King stood up from his royal seat. I forced myself not to back away as he descended the few steps looking like the immortal creature he was.

“Come, Muse,” he said.

The small pause he took before raising his forearm to me spoke as loud as his expression might’ve if his face hadn’t been shrouded by the dark veil—a sort of malicious hesitancy that told me this was as unpleasant for him as it was for me. That he disliked me still, even after I had changed myself to fit what he wanted. That, despite his feelings, and for the sake of the kingdom, we needed to present as a united front.

Or perhaps my fear and anxiety were getting the better of me.

Regardless, I managed a nervous smile—which must have come across as coy, because a woman whispered, “How charming,” as I took the king’s arm, allowing him to escort me through the throng.

It was the second time today I had to make my way through a crowd, but this time I didn’t have to fight. This time, they parted for us like the Red Sea. This time they were even glad to see me. We were a duo, the king and I. Co-saviors of England, even if the king was given all the credit. But everyone understood the importance of our partnership, and I felt that as we walked through the sea of bows and smiles, many directed at me.

Despite everything that had happened today—goodness, had it only been a day?—for the first time in a long time, I felt as if everything was going to be okay. I even felt better about my impending wedding. Kat had been right. It was clear the king had only behaved the way he had because he was fatigued from the pain he’d had to endure. Now he was … happy.

Guards opened a massive set of doors for us, and the king led me into a large, empty room, dim in the light of a few scattered candles. Beric strode forward and lit a few more. Strange that he didn’t just open the curtains instead and let in the remainder of the early-evening light, but perhaps the king liked things done a certain way.

As soon as I heard the doors shut behind us, the king removed my hand from his arm and walked on without me. The gesture felt like a slap in the face, and my cheeks heated from embarrassment as I hesitated to follow. The joy I’d felt singing was all but diminished.

“Tomorrow,” he said, removing his headdress and setting it on the table, “we will be wed.”

Dread twisted my stomach. What was that, Cali, about feeling better about the impending wedding? “Tomorrow, sire?”

“Yes, the sooner the better. Beric will walk you through the wedding procedure. He’s your squire, so if you have any concerns, bother him instead of us.”

“I actually brought my own squire,” I said quickly, as the king was already turning away again.

He paused, annoyed. “Another squire? Don’t be ridiculous, one is enough. Now go play, children.” He shooed us off as he turned to leave once more. “We’re going to bed.”

He strode toward the dark end of the room, the only proof he hadn’t vanished entirely the sound of a hidden door opening and shutting behind him.

My heart pounded in my head, planting an ache there that made me want to cry. His behavior out in public had been nothing but a display. A ruse.

I felt a burning at the backs of my eyes, but I held back my tears. I couldn’t cry, not on my very first day.

But I must not have done a very good job hiding it, because Beric stepped forward. He was holding out a handkerchief. I hesitated before taking it, but didn’t use it, instead rubbing the fabric through my fingers.

“Would you like to rejoin Eliza and Faline?” he asked. He didn’t even look disturbed by the king’s hasty departure. “We won’t be needing this room, after all.”

“What have I done wrong?” I asked, finally. “We’ve barely spoken but a few words, and yet already he hates me.”

“Not so, my lady,” said Beric, hands behind his back. “Trust me, if he hated you it would be obvious.”

I scoffed. “And peeling my hand off him as if it were a slug doesn’t count as obvious?”

“Honestly, you should count yourself fortunate he doesn’t find much interest in you.”

“And what does that mean?” I asked, immediately wondering if I truly wanted the answer.

Beric’s expression was a closed book. “It means exactly what I have said.”