Page 27

“I’m only getting some water.” I keep my face neutral and meet her stare. “The dancing was quite warm.”

Maren glances toward the dance floor before assessing my emerald dress with a crafted, sympathetic smile. The look reminds me of a celebrity humoring a fan who has somehow wandered past the security ropes.

“You handled Solveig surprisingly well at dinner,” she says. “Most humans wilt when she so much as looks askance at them. You were very brave.”

The compliment is shaped too carefully to be sincere. I give her the same professional look I reserve for the Saltweather Zoning Commissioner during another library budget dispute.

“Thank you for saying so.” I keep my voice steady despite the condescension wrapped around her words. “She asked direct questions, so I answered them directly.”

“That does seem very much like you.” Maren takes a slow sip from her drink. “Sigurd always did have a soft spot for charity cases. He likes fixing things that look broken.”

My arm draws closer to my body before I can stop it. The borrowed silk suddenly feels more conspicuous against my skin, but I refuse to let her see anything else.

“If that was meant as an insult, it needs work.” I hold her gaze and keep my voice steady. “Besides, I’ve found Sigurd’s gentleness endearing. Caring about people is hardly a character flaw.”

“Oh, I would never criticize him for that.” Maren leaves the implication between us for a moment. “I know better than most how attentive Sigurd can be.”

Her tone makes the meaning impossible to mistake. Keeping my composure becomes harder, but I give her nothing useful.

“He is so restrained in public,” Maren continues. She lowers her voice until the surrounding guests can no longer follow the conversation. “But you know how krakens are. Once you get them into deep water, they become insatiable.”

Heat climbs into my face despite every effort to control it. I clench my teeth rather than answer and give her more ammunition.

She catches enough of my reaction to continue. “I spent three centuries teaching him how to temper his strength.”

The number cuts through everything else she has said. She’s had hundreds of years with Sigurd. I’ve spent only a handful of days beside him, and our contract lasts for one weekend.

“I’m sure you have many fond memories,” I reply. “But that relationship is in the past.”

Maren tilts her head and studies me. “Do you truly believe that makes the history irrelevant? Sigurd is ancient, Valerie. His biology requires a partner who can withstand the crushing pressure of his world.”

My thumb presses against the glass, and the ice shifts inside with a hollow clink. I hear the sound clearly beneath the noise of the banquet hall.

“Solveig isn’t wrong,” Maren continues in the same pleasant tone. “Humans and monsters aren’t always a match. It isn’t always about heart.”

She throws my own dinner-table argument straight back at me. I still believe what I told Solveig, and Maren’s confidence does not make her right. But the differences between Sigurd and me are real. And not just because of his body.

I’m a librarian from a small coastal town. Sigurd is a monster billionaire. We can’t ever share anything past this lone weekend.

Her eyes flick toward my hand before returning to my face. The satisfaction there tells me she has been waiting for this moment.

“I only hope he doesn’t accidentally break you when he finally loses control.”

The fantasy I built on the dance floor shatters beneath the words. A few minutes ago, I was thinking about Sigurd holding me because he wanted to. Now every intimate implication Maren has planted has attached itself to the memory.

She knows the Sigurd who exists beyond public restraint. I know the role I agreed to play because Saltweather needed me here. Whatever happened on the dance floor does not erase the reason I came.

I am his fake date, a temporary shield between Sigurd and the future his mother has chosen for him. His touch may have felt real tonight, but my place beside him is still temporary.

My fingers slip slightly against the tumbler before I catch it. I refuse to let Maren watch me fall apart.

The scent of deep-sea brine cuts through her perfume a moment later. Maren looks past me, and the satisfaction leaves her face before I turn.

Sigurd cuts through the room, his broad frame parting the mingling guests without hesitation. He stops beside the table with his eyes fixed on me. The marks visible above his collar flare brighter than they did when he left.

“Sigurd.” Maren touches the neckline of her silver gown and recovers quickly. “I was just congratulating your date on surviving the climb. If you’ll excuse me, the southern delegates are waiting.”

She glides away before he answers. Sigurd watches her disappear into the crowd. As soon as she’s gone, he turns toward me. “What did she say to you?” His low voice carries beneath the surrounding conversation. “If she insulted you, I will have her removed from the hall. Rakan will listen to me.”