Another swiftly follows.
Rhordyn steps onto the dais, followed by a smiling Zali who’s dressed in a gown of swishing bronze that melts off her curves. The crowd turns their attention toward the High Master and High Mistress standing above everyone else like they were made to fit together. Made to rule and conquer and save the world together.
They wear no crowns or diadems of power. No need when they carry themselves with such regal poise that the very air seems to bow around them.
The skin on my left arm tingles, and I glance sidelong, seeing Cainon resting against the wall not a foot away, hands threaded deep in his pockets.
His hair is pulled back in a bun that shows off the fierce lines of his undercut, and his outfit is far more casual than anyone else’s; tight navy pants and a white, form-fitting button-down, sleeves rolled to reveal his thick, corded forearms. Unbuttoned at the top, his shirt offers a window to smooth slabs of golden muscle.
He’s a slant of sunlight cutting through the dim—the picture of casual elegance dressed in raw sex appeal with a dash of wild abandon.
“Why does the pretty flower cry?” he asks, rolling his head to the side, snagging me with a nonchalant stare.
But I sense a seed of sincerity beneath the hook of his rakish mouth, in the depth of those pale blue eyes. And the question, it’s so ...invasive. Like he’s gone fishing down my throat, trying to hook my heart on a line.
I’m not used to questions such as this from anyone but Kai.
His hand lifts, encroaching on the space between us, and I don’t have the air in my lungs to object before he sweeps the pad of his thumb along my jaw, smearing a tear across it like a bead of paint.
Despite my surprise, a toxic form of gravity is luring my eye toward that podium. No matter how much I fight it, I break.
His thumb falls the moment my eyes flick away.
“I see,” he murmurs. “The flower dug her roots in.”
“The flower wasstupid.”
Ating-ting-tingsplits apart the celebratory racket. The music stops, and a silence slips over the crowd, though to me, it doesn’t seem silent at all. It’s blaring, and not a single part of me wants to be here watching this story unfold.
I peel off the wall, determined to charge through the enchanted crowd and find a corner away from curious eyes. Somewhere I can compose myself into that resilient woman who’s strong and grounded ...
Cainon’s hand slips into mine and grips, anchoring me in place.
Anchoring me tohim.
My stare stabs down at our twisted fingers, his skin so golden compared to the creamy tone of my own.
“Nope.” The word is thick and incriminating, leading my gaze to slice up and dive into the waveless pools of his own. “You stand right here andwatch,” he whispers, pulling me back against the wall with a soft thud. “If you stay in this castle,thisis what you’ll see every single day. Except it’ll be much, much worse.”
My brows collide as he shrugs a shoulder. “You’ll be able to smell her all over him. You’ll see her swell with his child, because that’s what will be expected of them to make this façade believable.”
My breaths become sharp and short—my imagination painting a clear, concise picture.
And it hurts. It hurts so fucking much.
“And eventually ...” his expression softens, “eventually, those feelings will turn to love. It doesn’t matter who you are, where you’ve come from; it’s in our nature to fall in love with the shackle thatbindsus.”
Another tear darts down my cheek, and again he catches it, sucking the residue off his thumb.
Something inside me twists at the intimate sight.
“And why the hell doyoucare?”
Cainon offers a consolation smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Because there are other options that would benefit us both.”
Honesty.
Well, that’s something. I usually get nothing but corked answers.
