Anxiety widened his gaze, despite his cocky grin. “And if I don’t live up to your dreams?”
His breath brushed against my lips, and heat coiled and bloomed as butterflies took me by storm.
“You wouldn’t have to try hard,” I whispered.
“And if I was saving this for my wife?” He ducked close, speaking against the corner of my mouth.
I sucked in a sharp breath and dug my fingers into his neck, letting him feel my need. “Then marry me.”
I doubted he would have frozen any faster if I had stabbed him in the heart. He pulled away, and a quiet ache settled deep at the loss.
“Don’t say that.” A rough edge, full of hunger, consumed his tone.
“There will never be anyone else.” I tugged at him, desperate to pull him back to me.
He remained stiff and resolute, features set into a stern frown. “You’re a princess.” His voice cracked as he stepped away, hands falling to his sides as if he woke from a dream.
“I’ve always been one.” I fought to keep my words steady as he freed me from the table in every way I didn’t want. “Nothing has changed.”
With a staggered breath, he turned, shaking his head. “Elspeth, you’re a princess. You’ll get betrothed to some heir or king out there, forging alliances.”
“No, Sainte. My brother will kill me soon,” I spat. “I’m not going to marry anyone! I have a few fleeting days to live out my pleasures and desires before I cross the Veil, never to know a husband, let alone a man.”
He turned on his heel, his face set into a mask I didn’t recognize. “And if you live? If you rise to the throne? I’m only your Valahant, Ellie.”
He ran a hand through his dark hair, giving it a tug as if the minor pain would ground him.
“I would give you everything.” He closed his eyes as if he couldn’t believe his words. “Anything, but you don’t know what you’re asking.”
My breathless laughter drew his gaze back to mine. My fists propped onto my hips, missing the heat of his touch there. “You think I could wed anyone else? You must be a fool. I’m full of dreams and delusions—such as marrying for love. I wouldnevermarry for an alliance, Sainte.”
“You will be queen. Your marriage is a weapon, a shield.” His voice pitched higher. “You want me. I would please you. But for gods’ sake, Ellie, don’t brandish marriage about like it’s worthless.”
A subtle, quiet realization whispered in my heart.
Sainte would never take this lightly. The notion was instilled and embedded so deep within him. Men typically didn’t remain chaste until their wedding night, unlike women who had to out of necessity or else they might bear a bastard child.
But a man?
They could walk off with no remorse, no responsibility.
Men never waited—but he did. He offered his body to me after waiting for so long, promising himself to his future wife, holding himself to that standard. He was willing to throw it away for me—while in the same breath, berating me to raise my standards.
Sainte didn’t think himself worthy of marrying me, and yet there was no one else. Not a soul in this world could measure up. He was the only person whowasworthy.
He offered me his virtue in exchange for me not wasting a marriage of value.
As if his virtue had no value to anyone besides him.
I would show him, prove his worth.
And yet…
When I failed the Rite of Combat, I would die, and so would he. We would never share that passion with one another.
A heavy ache settled over my heart. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t watch his face as I refused his offer.
“No,” I growled, turning my back on him. “I won’t accept you without marriage.”
