"The best lies contain a grain of truth." She moves behind me, her fingers working through my hair with practiced efficiency. "And the truth is, you're stronger than any of them realize. Including your shadow prince."
My shadow prince. The possessive phrase makes my stomach clench. "He's not mine." But even as I say the words, I remember the gentleness in Kai's touch as he cleaned me afterward, the careful way he shielded me from prying eyes with his shadows. The tenderness that felt more dangerous than his rage.
I tug at the neckline that dips lower than anything I've worn before. "This is ridiculous."
"You look beautiful," Ellie corrects, adjusting a fold of fabric at my hip. "And more importantly, you look like you belong on a prince's arm. Now, just try and keep upright. Oh, and remember to breathe. That helps too."
"Breathing isn't the problem. Not strangling Kai is the problem.”
A throat clears outside our tent. "I can hear you, Ainsley."
Kai. Of course. His timing, as always, is impeccable.
"Good," I call back. "Then consider yourself warned."
Ellie rolls her eyes at me before heading to the entrance. She pulls back the flap to reveal Kai standing there in formal attire—a midnight blue tunic with silver embroidery that makes his ice-blue eyes look even more striking. His hair is pulled back, exposing the sharp angles of his face. He looks every inch the fae prince he is, dangerous and beautiful in equal measure.
I hate how my heart stutters at the sight.
"Ready?" he asks, his gaze sweeping over me in a way that makes my skin heat despite myself. The way my body longs to believe every lie Kai projects is becoming a problem.
“Does it matter?”
“No.”
“Wonderful. Lead the way.”
Kai extends his arm, and I take it reluctantly, feeling the solid muscle beneath my fingers. His shadows curl around my wrist like a possessive caress. Or a shackle to ensure I don’t make a run for the tree line.
Chapter 12
Rowan
Iwalk into the dining tent feeling no less self conscious than I did at the lake, though this time it's the clothes rather than lack of them that are the culprit. Theron sits at the head of the main table, his gaze sliding over me with undisguised lewdness that makes my skin crawl. He raises his goblet in a silent toast, his smile too wide, too knowing after what he witnessed at the stream. To his right, a cluster of advisors watch me with narrowed eyes and shared whispers. One woman with a captain's insignia on her collar doesn't bother hiding her contempt, fingers drumming against her goblet as if imagining it's my throat.
The tent itself doesn’t help. It’s a jarring pocket of opulence in the middle of a military camp, so out of place that I can’t work out whether it's all a joke to mock our sham of an engagement or the way these fae actually carry on. Crystal goblets, porcelain platters, delicate arrangement of meats cut thin and arranged into flowers.
“You don’t pack light for a military campaign, do you?” I murmur to Kai.
“Prince Theron doesn’t pack light,” Kai answers just as quietly. “Stop squirming like you’ve fire ants in your underclothes.”
"I feel like I'm on display," I fight the urge to cross my arms over my chest.
"That's rather the point. Better to be admired than dismembered.”
“Around here, those are not mutually exclusive.” The people around the table are admiring me in the same way a butcher admires a particularly well marbled cut of meat.
“Rowan. Kai.” Kyrian appears at our side with the silent grace that still unnerves me and settles his hand at the small of my back. If Kai's formal blue is so dark it swallows the light, Kyrian’s dress military whites of Flurry are a pattern of stars in snow. It’s beautiful. Just like he is. Kyrian inclines his head, the heat of his palm burning through the thin silk of my gown. "This way."
He guides us to a pair of empty chairs near Theron, the seated officers and standing at the ready stewards all tracking our movements. I keep my chin high in defiance, hoping they can’t smell my discomfort.
They probably can.
“Where is Logan?” I ask Kyrain.
The finger-drumming captain sneers. “Hopefully ridding himself of fleas. The last thing we need here is an infestation.”
“This isn’t his scene,” Kyrian answers curtly as Kai pulls out my chair to seat me.
