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Dade’s silence created another thick wave of tension. I ignored it, so did the younglings, Fink choosing then to expose herself.
Her head popped up, arms leaning over a mound of fabric as she looked at the king. “May we come to this wedding?” she asked, and her mother made a noise I couldn’t decipher. Fink’s cheeks pinkened. “My king.”
“You must excuse her,” Harro found his voice then. Stammering a little, he stepped forward as though he’d retrieve his daughter and send her home. “Fink is but a handful of years old.”
“It’s quite all right,” I answered for the king, who looked at me. His head tilted, those unblinking eyes seemingly asking what it was exactly I’d told them. Enough, I answered with a smile, then said aloud, “We are not yet sure where the wedding will be held, but I would love nothing more than to see you all there.”
“That is actually what we need to talk about,” Dade said, tone clipped. “Now, if you do not mind.”
I pursed my lips, too curious to know what my mother had said. I was aware he’d written to her, and it appeared he’d received word. “Fine.”
“Sire,” Fink said, and I leaned forward to place my teacup on the stump. “Is it true you breathe fire?”
Dade released a shocked grunt of a laugh, his features returning to stone as he muttered, “Breathe fire?”
“Yes,” she said, standing upon my leg now and revealing her friend’s head. “You know, like a dragon.”
“There are no dragons on this continent,” the king said smoothly, and I wanted to smack him for the flat expression that darkened Fink’s face. Dade looked at me, then sighed and said to the young female elf, “No, I don’t breathe fire. Though I suppose it would be a handy trick to have.”
Fink gri
“One of the things I can do,” the king said, a glint in his eye as he leaned toward us a little. “Is this.” Fire erupted from the grass behind him, moving slowly in a burning circle to his bent knees.
Fink’s eyes threatened to pop out of her head, while her mother shrieked and her father raced to grab her, other elves now appearing from the woods to see what all the commotion was.
“Wow,” Fink breathed, reluctantly climbing onto my hand with Thompson as her father gestured for her to climb down immediately.
Save for the breeze rustling pieces of Dade’s thick hair onto one side of his forehead, he didn’t move as the fire disappeared as quick as it’d arrived.
Such ease with deathly power shouldn’t have been permitted—especially in those who would seek to use it for their own gain. A twinge of empathy flared for how my grandparents had felt, for the fear of Dade’s parents, who’d both harnessed ungodly powers of flame and shadow, unimaginable strength, shifting, and warping.
But it was more than permitted. It was star-given, and to argue with the fates in such a way was futile.
And while I could empathize, it was growing more apparent that the murder of Dade’s parents was just that. Unjustified murder.
The elves scrambled back a few steps, bowing to their king as he rose and offered me his hand. Fink waved from the forest floor, Thompson already bounding toward the play equipment fashioned from stolen footwear.
I smiled, waving back before placing my hand in the king’s. “Thank you for the tea and the marvelous company.”
We were nearing the gardens when Dade’s hand squeezed mine and tugged me closer, his voice warm at my ear as he purred, “For the tea and the marvelous company?” I bristled as he chuckled. “My, you truly are a well-ma
I tore my hand free, pulling my shoulders back. “I’d rather be well-ma
“I’m rude?” he asked, and I nearly laughed at the way he’d done so, as if perplexed, and also the fact he’d wisely not denied his arrogance. “How so?”
“You interrupted us and then stared down your nose at them until I all but forced you to join us, and then you could not even thank Beshal for the tea.”
“It was good tea,” he admitted, and I spun before him, waiting for him to understand what I’d just spelled out. “I was not rude.”
“You were.”
“I am their king. To gentle myself in such a way would make me appear weak.”
“Weak?” I laughed. “It would make you appear as though you care.”
“Perhaps I don’t,” he said then, brows raised in defiance, eyes of dawn gazing at me down the strong bridge of his nose. “Did you think of that?”
I felt my skin warm under that gaze, and said quietly without enough thought to stop myself, “Some weeks ago, I would have believed that. Now, I’m not so sure.”
His feigned apathy didn’t waver. We stared for a stretched moment, a moment that rippled and heated and charged and lured as my thoughts ran astray. Thoughts of him above me, behind me, beneath me, all over me, hours spent inside me…
Dade sniffed, his eyes darkening as though he could scent what those thoughts, what he, did to me.
Of course, he damned well could. Inwardly cursing up a storm, I cleared my throat. “So, this important news?”
He didn’t so much as glance around the empty terrace before saying, “Your mother responded. We are to marry at Castle Gracewood in a private ceremony in two evenings time.”
Two evenings.
I might be home as early as tomorrow. Relief hit me so hard, it took me a moment to even imagine what that would look like. To walk through my own city, the archways and crowded corners of my own castle, and the gardens…
My eyes itched, stung, but I swallowed over the boulder of emotion in my throat. Home. I would be going home. A place I hadn’t dared think about too much in recent weeks for fear of never seeing it again.
For fear of finding that I preferred the company and kingdom of a king that had tainted this entire continent with his vengeful schemes and actions.
But it had begun with us. My family. A fact I’d largely chosen to ignore. Not only because I hadn’t been there, and I did not know enough, but because it did not excuse all Dade had done in the slightest.
Private. Gracewood.
“Something wrong, sunshine?” The king’s snide words snapped me out of my trance.
I blinked hard before ru
I didn’t care. Flustered, I gazed up at him, finding nothing but cold assessment in those eyes as I wondered out loud, “Perhaps this is not wise after all.” I did not think my mother a killer. She’d marched with my father’s armies many a time but often refrained from hurting others if she could avoid it. She was a healer, a defender.
But he’d killed her husband. My father.
Her mate.
Not to mention, he’d stolen me—her only living heir.
Dade’s eyes warmed a fraction, his shoulders falling as he slid his hands inside the pockets of his tight black trousers. “How so?”
I reared back, withholding an incredulous laugh when it dawned on me. He knew. Of course, he already knew.
He merely wanted to see if I’d hide what we both feared.
“Don’t do that,” I snapped, then turned and hurried inside. He could take his precious wedding and shove it up his—
Hands looped around my waist at the stairs, and I squeaked. Dade turned me, loomed over me, brows dancing low and his lips curved. “What is it you think I’m doing?”
“Testing me.”
He pressed closer, and my back met the marble railing. “Can you blame me? You’ve not been to see me since I agreed to your terms.”