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Lachlan's eyes widen slightly.

"Lass, a betrothal is not something that you can easily undo in the Eternal Society. Once you speak the words, it is done. You will be married. I would become your blood consort. There's no way out of it."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I would rather be alive and married to you—eventually," I tack the word on, "than dead, so..." I shrug my shoulders.

"Lass, you cannot mean that. I haven't even been nice to you."

"You haven't killed me. So right now the bar—we're tripping over it, but, you know, we're making our way over it. So either you agree to be my fiancé and you come with me to this… ball in two weeks, and keep me from getting killed, or I go alone and there's, like, a ninety percent chance I die."

He's gazing at a spot I can't see somewhere above my head, his shoulders heaving as he tries to contain himself. Why this has him so pissed off, I have no...

"Is there someone else you're in love with?" I blurt. "I'm so sorry. I—you know, that is, obviously if you're in love with someone else, that's fine. Or, you know, I don't even know if you're married. I have no idea what your⁠—"

"I'm not married," he says. "I'm sure as fuck not stupid enough to fall in love with anybody."

"So you'll do it," I say. "You're officially going to be my betrothed." I wiggle my eyebrows at him.

"I didn't say that," he says.

"Okay, so you're—you're going to just go ahead and send me to my execution then? Is that what I'm hearing?"

He runs his hands through his hair, staring down at me like I've just given him a death sentence.

"It wouldn't be so bad being betrothed to me," I wheedle.

"It would. It would be so bad, lass."

"That is so rude," I tell him, glaring. "You don't want to be married to me? You don't want to even be fake-engaged to me, or whatever the fuck this is?"

"This isn't—there's not—there won't be anything fake about it," he says. "We'll have to do a ceremony today, before we go, to make it official. We walk into that gala and not know anything about each other, with a fresh mat—” he coughs, “betrothal mark. Otherwise, they'll be onto us. There's no way to lie our way around the magic written into the blood of this very envelope."

"You mean ink?" I scrunch my nose.

"What do you think they make the ink out of from House Sanguine? This is what I'm talking about, lass. You've no idea what you're playing at here."

"Which is exactly why you should go with me," I tell him brightly.

He curses again, a wide-eyed expression on his face. For a moment, it almost looks like hope. And then he shakes his head.

"All right, lass. I'll do it."

"Yay!" I say, clapping my hands and then throwing my arms around Lachlan in a big hug, which I immediately regret as he stiffens all around me.

"But we have to set some ground rules," he says, his voice icy as he takes a step back.

"Okay," I say slowly. "Ground rules. We can do ground rules. That sounds like a great idea. I love rules. I've always loved rules."

"You cannot fall in love with me."

I make a sound like a balloon going out. "Are you joking me? That's your rule? That I can't fall in love with you? Please. As if you've given me any reason to fall in love with you."

I mean for it to sound light and silly and teasing, but the hurt that flashes in his eyes tells me I may have gone a step too far in trying to make him feel better.

"Lachlan, you've barely tolerated me since I've shown up. My bar for men is in fucking hell. But after my last relationship, you don't have to worry about me falling in love with you or anyone else. I'm done with love."

His nostrils flare slightly.

"What are the rest of your rules?" I ask him, trying to get to the point.