Page 62 of Bride of Ash & Dust

“Going?”

I frown as her question sinks in. We’re appearing at the Planting Festival today, of course. That explains at least one of the new outfits.

But the rest of them? Is Malrik sending me somewhere? Or, gods above, is he sending both of us somewhere?

“Acelina said something about a tour,” Lilias continues. Her eyes reach mine, wide and soft. “She said it’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“Shit,” I hiss as I run my fingers through my hair. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders rise and fall, a little wave of disappointment. Exhaustion gnaws at the marrow of my bones. A godsdamned tour? How did Malrik hide this from me? What else is he hiding from me?

“I hate surprises,” I mutter.

“Me too,” Lilias says.

Our eyes meet, and she smiles at me. I step back, pulling the bathing chamber door closed before I can ruin any more of my wife’s night.

Chapter 34

Zarek

DO YOU HAVE A DAGGER?

That dress was designed to kill me.

There’s no other reason to have Lilias wear something that daring, that insanely flattering, especially after Malrik told me not to sleep with her. And now she’s wearing a scarlet dress that makes her look like an erotic goddess come to earth, and I’ll have to spend the entire Planting Festival trying not to stare at her breasts the way a starving man would stare at a feast.

I grit my teeth, then bow at my wife, trying to keep my eyes on the swirl of crimson at her feet. She’s been in the bathing chamber with her attendant, Anura, for most of the morning. That dress must have been a bitch to get on, with all those ribbons, and her dark hair is piled atop her head in a mountain of curls and tiny, shiny little beads.

Gods, she’s going to shine like the sun on the dais. Absolutely no one will look at me.

She moves into the room, her skirts rustling as she crosses the polished stone floor. I look up at her, willing myself to ignore the dangerous plunge of her neckline. She looks very young, this princess who is so far from her kingdom. Her hands flutter at her waist as she smiles at me.

And suddenly, the room feels cold. Petrys is teaching her how to fight, but a few lessons in breaking away from a hold aren’t much protection. Not in a place like this. And, gods, she is so very beautiful.

I clear my throat, then turn to Anura. “May I have a moment alone with my wife?” I ask.

Lilias’s eyes widen, but she says nothing. Anura nods, although her lips press together into a tight, thin line, showing me how much she disapproves of my request. She walks across the room with her back straight and her feet clicking on the stones. When the door closes behind her, it does so more forcefully than necessary.

I smile. It’s a marker of trust, showing how angry you are with someone. And it’s almost charming that Anura thinks I’m safe enough to be mad at me.

I turn back to Lilias, and she lets her eyes drop to the floor. When I step closer, her breath catches. It’s small and quick, that little gasp. Still, it feels like a punch to my gut.

She’s afraid of me.

I reach for her hand, then stop, my fingers brushing the emptiness between us. She’s wearing some sort of perfume, something light and floral, and it mixes with her scent in a way that’s so lovely it almost hurts. I let my hand fall, then clasp my fingers behind my back. For a moment, the only sound is the dull thrum of rain against the windows.

“Is something wrong?” she asks in a soft voice.

I shake my head, my chest tight. “Do you have a dagger?” I ask.

She glances up at me with a frown. “A what?”

“A knife,” I say, slowly realizing how stupid I sound. “A weapon. On your body.”

Her frown deepens, which is all the answer I need. I step back, away from that floral perfume, and walk to the desk where that limp-dick bastard used Lilias’s seal on his mysterious letter. I open the middle drawer, shift aside the empty ink pots and broken quills, then pull back the door to the secret compartment.

It’s not much of a weapon, the little dagger I hid in this desk when Malrik’s servant Mortimyr first assigned me to this room. There’s a slight curve to the blade, which makes it slow to slide from its sheath, and the handle is small.