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“Why wouldn’t I be happy?” I ask sardonically. “I’m surrounded by nearly a dozen beautiful females all vying for my heart.”
Vying for my crown is more like it.
“And yet, you reek of one witch in particular.”
After two trysts? There’s no possible way that—
“It’s faint,” he says, lowering his voice. “Most at court won’t notice, but I have known you far longer and far better than them. I scented it the moment I walked into the gardens.”
“And Gwyn?” I ask.
If anyone scents us on each other, our plan is bound to blow up in our faces.
“Also faint.” He sniffs the air. “But she’s not only marked by you.” My grip tightens around the stem of the chalice. Is he saying that Gwyn is sleeping with someone else? Oblivious to the absurd rush of jealousy surging through my veins, he adds, almost absentmindedly, “Her scent’s woven with yours… and something else. Not a creature’s. It’s…” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what it is. Something I’ve never scented before.”
Death, probably.
My fists loosen.
Maybe Gwyn wasn’t lying when she said she fears Death.
Maybe she’s haunted in more ways than one.
“I just can’t believe you would be stupid enough to—”
“Arkyn.”
“Riven,” he says, matching my tone. “You’re literally cursed—”
“I don’t need the reminder,” I say harshly. Then, softer, “What’s wrong with you? Are you envious?”
Arkyn has the audacity to look offended.
“Am I envious?” He lets out a dry laugh. “No, Riven, I’m not envious. I’m concerned. For you. For Gwyn. Starting up some secret sex-driven relationship while in the midst of finding a bride and breaking the curse is—”
“It’s not a relationship.”
“Does she know that?” His eyes drift over to Gwyn, who’s watching our exchange with a furrowed brow. “Because that is the face of a female who thinks with her heart, not her cunt.”
Black dots speckle my vision. Such a foul way to speak about my— my—
He helps himself to a second glass of wine and downs it in one swallow.
Wiping the excess off his lips with the back of his hand, he asks, “So is your heart also throbbing for Gwyn, or is it just your cock?”
“Shut. Up.”
“Ah, yes.” He smirks. “The sound of denial. If it’s not a relationship, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind if I asked to court her?”
For as long as I can remember, Arkyn has been by my side. Learning to walk, to ride, to sail, to fight, to love. A brother more than a friend, more family to me than my own father. We’ve had arguments and disagreements and everything in between, and through it all, we have never laid our hands on each other.
Until today.
I shove him so hard he stumbles backward.
“You’re not to go near her, Ark.”
The warning surfaces from somewhere deep inside me, a primal declaration of war.
