He exhales sharply, jaw clenching like he’s frustrated with that answer. “Okay. I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.”
“I look forward to it,” I say, every inch of the words dripping with forced sarcasm.
He chuckles under his breath. “Me too, little flower. Me too.”
And just like that,he’s gone. The door softly clicks shut, leaving me in silence—my heart pounding and my mind more tangled than ever. His words and his actions continuously contradict themselves, and I was starting to believe that maybe Korithax wasn’t being entirely honest with me, just as I wasn’t with him.
Chapter 35
Korithax
Aknock at the door jerks me awake.
Fuck. My head is splitting. I blink at the ceiling, trying to piece together where I am. I’m sprawled sideways across the bed, my shirt wrinkled, boots missing.
Oh. Fuck.
I left them in Daisy’s room after I drunkenly stumbled there last night like some godsdamned lunatic. I’d spent the entire day after we’d been separated drinking myself stupid on anything I could get my hands on. I’d needed to just numb everything whirling around in my brain. I’d needed the company of the intoxicating liquids. The separation from her had gotten right under my skin the second she’d closed the door to her room.
I groan, rubbing a hand down my face. What a mess. I had made the decision two bottles deep not to force her into being shackled to me, but she still said she’d go through with the marriage anyway.
“I made a deal.”
Her words still slam into me like a blade to the chest. I don’t know why I wanted her to want to marry me. I don’t know why I expected her to choose me—not after everything I’ve done. The way I treat her, I’m lucky she doesn’t stab me in my sleep. I was just so angry, and I’d taken it out on her.
But I wasn’t angry at her; I knew she hadn’t made a move on Kaelith. Daisy isn’t like that. She’s too sweet, too soft. Too good. I saw the way our kiss shook her to her core. Her blushing cheeks, her glassy eyes—gods, if that was her reaction to a kiss, I can’t even imagine how she’d react if I?—
Another knock cuts through my thoughts, saving me from what was about to be another completely inappropriate fantasy of the golden-haired girl who haunted my dreams.
“What?” I bark, my voice raspy.
“Sire, I am here to assist you with your morning preparations for the wedding.”
Right. My fucking wedding.
“Come in,” I mumble, rising out of the bed.
Two attendants enter—a tall, androgynous male with dark bronze skin, and a female with radiant brown skin, her eyes molten gold. The male carries a large garment bag; the female balances a tray of food with practiced ease.
“Your suit, shoes, and breakfast, Lord Korithax.” The male says with a respectful nod.
“Do you require assistance dressing, sire?” The girl asks, her cheeks flushing a soft rose gold as her gaze lingers far too long.
I scowl. “No. Get out. I’m perfectly capable of getting myself ready.” She lowers her head in embarrassment.
“How long do I have?” I grumble, praying to whatever god that’s listening that it’s at least a few hours.
“An hour, my lord. I will knock again when it is time to leave and escort you to the ceremony.”
I internally groan and watch as they bow and exit. The girl’s lingering look irritated me more than it should. I’m used to flirtation; hell, normally I’d return it. Maybe even take it further. But lately… I haven’t even looked at another woman, never mind considered fucking one.
I eatthe breakfast they left behind—a plate of Solaran sunfruit slices drizzled with honey, spiced flatbread with a golden glaze, and a warm drink that tastes like cinnamon. It’s pleasant, but not enough. I reach for the glass bottle of nectarwine—amber-hued, thick like syrup, and sweet enough to burn the throat. I shoot it back in one gulp, but I know it won’t help the emotional turmoil swirling inside my gut and head.
I sigh, stepping over to where the garment bag is draped over a chair next to a large, leaning mirror. I dress quickly, ignoring the uneasy feeling flitting in my chest. The suit is a tailored black ensemble with subtle red undertones. The collar is edged in blood red; my sigil is stitched into the lining in crimson silk. My shirt is fitted and is as black as night, a matching coloured thin tie hugs my throat. My pocket square is a soft yellow, embroidered around its edges with glowing golden thread. The boutonnière is a bundle of wild daisies and golden wheat, intertwined with sprigs of solthera—a fragrant green plant native to Solara, similar to eucalyptus, but with sunlight-kissed leaves that shimmer faintly.
My boots may be gone, but the shoes they brought are polished to a mirror shine. Gods, I hate them. I tie my hair back into a knot at the back of my head in the middle. I didn’t like it in a low knot; I looked like a pretentious asshole. A few loose strands hang at the side of my face. I stare into the mirror, deeply inhaling.
“This is it, Korithax,” I murmur on an exhale. “No going back. You’re about to marry the mortal girl who flipped your entire world upside down.”
