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The stars had dimmed, indicating nighttime. A few chariots still roamed the skies, and Dhalia glanced at them obsessively. She fidgeted with a strip of her gown then let it drop. I didn’t need to share her body and thoughts to know that nerves clung to her like the mist.
“Be brave, my Queen. He will touch you.”
Morten retreated into the closet, letting the double doors close nearly all the way, leaving a slender crack I had no doubt he’d be staring through the entire night.
Dhalia placed a hand to her chest to steady herself. Then she traced a path to the center of the room, her heels clicking on the marble, and stood tall. She faced the door with a raised chin.
The door whooshed opened, and King Ulther took up the entire space of the doorway, his dark skin warm against the firelight and his grey suit as crisp as stone. The signature golden band of a king crossed his forehead above his gold mask, and his brown eyes absorbed every inch of Dhalia.
“My King,” she said. Could he hear the vibration in her voice? She swallowed.
He took a tentative step near. “You are a magnificent bride.”
My failure to put that together sooner showed a significant flaw in my understanding. This was Dhalia’s wedding night. Her dress alone should have told me that. Now the nerves made sense.
“Everyone knows you tricked me into this,” she said. It wasn’t a threat, but her tone was as sharp as a knife. “None will think this a love match.”
He chuckled. “Love is not as powerful as this alliance. Never before have a Mortal Queen and fae king been joined in such a bond.”
“I want more than that,” she said. Dhalia took her time to sit herself behind her vanity and gaze into the reflection, shaking her head as if what she saw displeased her. She dragged her hands through her tight curls. “If I’m to marry you tonight, I want more than an alliance. My time is limited and I—” she allowed her voice to crack, yet what I felt inside her was anything but sadness. It was calculating. Determined. “I want something more.”
King Ulther’s eyes widened. He took in the candles as if seeing them for the first time. He moistened his lips. “I can’t promise that.”
Dhalia’s nerves hardened into stone, and her mind quieted until only one thought remained like a mantra repeating in her head.
Defeat him.
This was her battle cry, her wedding dress her armor, her words her weapon.
She twisted a strand of hair between her gloved fingers. The candles she’d set on a short table flickered when King Ulther drew near her.
“I don’t need promises. I need happiness. That’s all I hope for anymore.”
He said nothing, but I sensed his unease. His steps were gruelingly slow, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.
“Can you do that, my King?” she pressed. “Can you make me happy? If I marry you tonight, will you make me forget that I die next year?”
His hand pulsed toward her but hesitated. He was close enough that he could kiss her, and I felt Dhalia resisting the urge to look at the closet.
“My King”—her voice was husky as she drew a finger down his chest—“make me forget I’m to die.”
His self-control snapped. His hand seized her waist to draw her close for a kiss.
But none of that happened.
When his skin touched her dress, King Ulther’s body stilled. The only motion from him was a twitch in his eyes as he struggled. Frozen, I realized. She’d frozen him.
“Don’t worry, my King.” Dhalia’s voice was rich with triumph. “I can release you. But not until you release me.”
“What . . . did you . . . do?” So he was able to speak, but every word was strained, and Dhalia grinned through it all.
“A charm was placed over my dress.” She pulled on the fingers of the gloves, removing them and tossing the fabric aside. “The first person to touch it would be frozen, but only if they touched it willingly.” She smiled. “It was too easy.”
She walked in a circle around him, pausing only to wink toward the crack in the closet. “My two demands are simple. If you fail to oblige me, I’ll leave you trapped forever, and once I die, there is no one who can save you. So I’d think very carefully about the next words you use.”
King Ulther’s eyes narrowed, but he grunted.
“First, you will release me from being your bride. I find I don’t care to be tied to you.”
