“I will ask you again,” he said. “Do you think I will stand by and allow him to hurt you?”
She shook her head, silent and swift tears falling across her cheeks.
“Words.”
The answer was so obvious. She knew he’d let the entire palace crumble before harm came to her. He answered the call every single time, despite the positions it put him in.
“No,” she choked out. “You wouldn’t.”
Reeve let out a shuddering breath. The scarring on his face writhed, as though it were in agony. Darkness swirled behind him, shadowing the entire room.
She’s seen it before, that beast he rarely became.
Reeve smiled, but it was laced with agony. “That’s the third time I’ve had to witness him break your arm,” said Reeve. “And it is truly a testament to my control.”
His eyes locked on hers, and his expression melted back into one of leisurely control as the giant shadow of a beast behind him shrank to nothing, bringing what little light the morning offered cascading back over the table.
“Cheer up, Maeve,” said Reeve, rolling out his shoulders. “We’re going to have a delightful time this evening. And no, you won’t be wearing emerald.”
The gown that hung in her room was certainly not emerald. Reeve sat on the edge of her bed, watching her expression. She frowned.
“So I just don’t get a say in my own attire for the evening?” she asked sharply, her attention fixed on the iridescent violet and amethyst dress.
She had to act insulted, but she’d never seen a gown so lovely. It was exquisite, fit for not a queen, butthequeen. The sleeves were long and sheer, sparkling like a pale galaxy. The train billowed to the floor like clouds. Silver embellishments, not a single thread or bead out of place, defined the shape of the gown.
But the jewel that was set at the center of the breast was the true marvel. It danced in its own light, even though there were no beams or rays presently hitting it. Deep within its fiery core, it moved like a constant, spiraling, shooting star.
“I’ve never worn purple,” she said, still clinging to her pride despite the fact that in her mind she longed to feel the radiance she knew this garment would provide her.
Reeve chuckled, deep in his throat, allowing her the blow, as though he knew just how much she loved it. Maeve shook her head. Of course, he knew. He could feel it all.
She never let herself wonder why she couldn’t feel him the way he felt her.
“Quit stalling and try it on,” groaned Reeve.
Maeve turned towards him, pride festering further inside her. “What’s the point in going when I’m no longer the weapon I once was?” she asked.
Reeve shook his head. “A weapon? You’ve got plenty of those. And you only need one weapon tonight, and it’s buried so deep in your very existence, no one can take it from you.”
Maeve raised a brow. “That so?”
He hummed his agreement. Then said, “You do not need a weapon when you were born one. Do not forget there is Magic you possess that is inherently yours, the uncontrolled lightning aside. Though you seem to be doing much better in such a short time. Annoyingly adaptable.” His eyes praised her despite his words. “Anyway, the Magic I speak of is in your smile. In your voice. In that cunning way you look up at a man through the corner of your eyes. The delicate and yet purposeful placement of your hand on a woman to trick her into thinking you pose no threat.”
Maeve grinned.
“I watched you play the game the summer before everything went to shit,” he answered her unspoken question.
Her smile faltered completely.
“And look where playing games has gotten me,” said Maeve, her voice dry.
Reeve watched her for a moment, and his eyes softened. “Wear the dress, show him that warrior’s smile, show him he has not broken you—”
She turned and made for the door.
“Stop,” he said coolly.
She obeyed, annoyed.
