Page 144 of The Faceless Queen

King Tirian sidled over to us, clamping his hands down on our shoulders. I winced, feeling his fingers dig in, not enough to bruise, but enough to bring my attention to his, enough to feel tears burn behind my eyes.

“I want to personally give you my blessing on this union,” he said, his voice low, but still loud enough to carry.

Brennan didn’t move his head, but shifted his gaze to his father, his nostrils flaring.

“Anything else you want?” he seethed.

“You do not have blankets, there will be no hiding beneath them and pretending. And no trying to get out of finishing early,” King Tirian hissed. “House Bathiner is watching.” Then he released us and backed away, clapping. The sound was forceful and jarring.

Brennan was breathing out of his mouth, still seething. But as applause began behind us, encouraged by the king, and guests offered their blessings on our union, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then met my gaze, holding it again. He took another step toward me, still trying to take control of his breathing.

The clapping increased, and I could hear Jaron’s distinct voice calling out, followed by Geoffrey’s. They were hooting and howling. Already bringing a bawdy energy to the room.

My cheeks heated and I started to turn toward them, but Brennan shook his head and held me firmly in place. He cupped my face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against my skin.

“No. Eyes on me. Forget them,” he commanded. “Good. Now take a breath.”

I did.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “Remember, they don’t matter. Nor does anything else that’s happening.” He nodded pointedly between us. “It’s just you and me. We’re in this together.” He brought his mouth to mine. “Now, can I kiss you?”

I nodded, and he did, his kiss soft and gentle. Too gentle. Almost as if he was hesitant himself.

As the kiss deepened, our mouths moving languidly and slowly, I realized he was hesitant. I could feel it, even without using the Azete’s powers. But it wasn’t about me. Or how he felt, or even what having sex with me was going to do to him. It occurred to me suddenly that he must have been used to keeping himself separate, and private from the world, and that in the seven years of my exile, I'd never once laid eyes on him. Brennan spent his life behind the walls of Castle Lafir. Even when he competed in the royal tourneys, he kept his helmet on. This was hard for him—harder than he’d been letting on. And I realized, even in his efforts to make me feel comfortable and safe and protected, he was struggling more. He was in his real body, wearing his real face, about to perform one of the most intimate acts in the world. One he took far more seriously than most people. And he was going to do it while his entire court, his friends, his family, and his enemies, all stood within a few feet, watching.

And what made it even more intrusive was that he was going to do that with me. With the woman he loved—when our first time deserved to be private, vulnerable, intimate.

Instead, it had been turned into a spectacle. A circus to further his father’s political ambitions.

I could feel his body tensing, his fingers trembling against my skin. He started to pull away. But I reached for the nape of his neck and tugged him toward me, sliding my lips across his, and kissing him.

He was startled at first, his mouth closing tight.

But I nibbled on his bottom lip, my fingers scratching his head, and tugging the curls at his nape, until he softened.

I released his mouth to take a small breath and kissed the corner of his lips, feeling his breathing grow erratic.

“What are you doing?” he whispered, his voice so low, I almost wondered if I’d read his mind. “You don’t have to⁠—”

I slowly kissed my way across his cheek to his ear, and whispered, “I know. But there’s a way I can help you get through this, too. We’re in this together. You and me.”

His chest heaved, a quick wave of relief emanating off him, streaming toward me. Feeding the Azete. I swallowed, hungry, desperate for the energy, for the taste.

Not because I needed it. But because it was his and because I’d wanted him from the moment I’d laid eyes on him.

I took his earlobe between my lips and sucked. He made a small noise of surprise, and then one of pleasure. Low in his throat.

Someone whooped in the audience.

I could feel Brennan heating with embarrassment. We needed to climb onto the bed. To close the curtains. To find some semblance of privacy through this. And we needed to do it fast, before one of us lost our nerve.

“What do we do next?” I asked.

He pulled my face back to his, kissing me again, sucking on my bottom lip, tugging it between his teeth, until my tongue sought out his, our kiss deepening and growing in intensity. His hands lowered down my back, gripping my waist, pulling me flush against him. And I realized that this was centering him, helping, even though it was still part of the show. Part of the ceremony itself.

“I take your clothes off,” he whispered. “And you take off mine. When we’re down to our underthings, then we’re allowed into the bed.”

I sucked in a breath. Gods, they really did want to see everything. The bastards.