“Please, dress." He dipped into a small bow, eyes trained on me. “The ritual is ready when you are.” With a parting, unreadable smile, he took his leave.
“Blade and Blood?!” I hissed.
“What? You worried?” he taunted, his shoulders dropping as we were once again left in the privacy of each other’s company.
“If something happens to you–”
“Togamar said I should seek Nothar. That’s what we’re doing.”
“Couldn’t you just say a prayer? Light a candle? Thrice-curse it all—I would settle for an animal sacrifice at this point.” I snatched a robe out of his hand and held it up, checking the size.
“Oh, she cares!” Sarcasm dripped from his tone.
“Ugh!” I hurled the garment at him, then snatched the smaller one.
“Truly, Elspeth,” Sainte chuckled, “we are in Nothar’s temple, the Father of Wynterborne, Highest of Godkind. Do you think if he meant us ill will, he would wait until a ritual?”
“I don’t pretend to know the minds of the divine,” I huffed, fumbling behind my back to loosen the laces of my dress. “What exactly does this entail?” I demanded, glaring.
“It’s nothing, Ellie.”
The laces snapped as I stepped forward, clutching my chest to keep the fabric in place. My fury reflected in his open smile of amusement.
“Don’t youEllieme!” I hissed. “You probably think the scars on your back, from years of flogging, mean nothing, too! Well, you are my Valahant now,” I poked his shoulder, “and I have a say in what happens to you!”
He arched a brow, his head tilting in warning—or perhaps daring me to go on.
“You’remine, Sainte. You don’t get to make choices concerningthis,” I gestured over his body, “without laying out all the details.”
He caught my hand, careful to avoid the angry red mark of Togamar. He yanked me against him, my palm pressed to his chest, forcing me to clutch the fabric tighter.
“The vows go both ways,Princess.” His tone took on a dangerous edge, his face a breath from mine. “I have a say in how to best protect you, even if it costs me.”
My glare darkened. “And if I refuse?”
“You don’t get to.”
I slapped him.
My dress fell to my waist, and his head snapped to the side, the imprint of my fingers reddening his cheek. Angry breaths heaved from my bare chest, furiousat his assumption that I had no say in what he did. This bond was meant to unite us, not force secret choices upon each other.
What good was being a princess if I couldn’t protect the people closest to me?
He turned back to face me at an infuriatingly slow rate, his eyes burning with rage, nostrils flaring. I struggled to pull the dress up over my chest, tugging against his iron grip.
I failed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock silenced him.
“Is all well, Princess? We heard shouting,” a voice called out.
Sainte’s barely contained fury met mine.
“Should I let them know you’re about to kill me?” I hissed through clenched teeth.
He exhaled through his nose, his features a visual representation of controlled rage. His grip, however, spoke volumes. He was anything but calm.
“Tell them we’ll be out shortly.”
