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I don’t miss the underlying worry in his tone, so at odds with every interaction we’ve had for weeks, and I turn to face him.
Something in his eyes unnerves me. The way I want to be honest with him, and the way he makes me feel like I could be. But it isn’t real, not any of it. When we get back to the castle, I’m sure he will be back to being his usual ass, and I’ll just be the unwanted bride he was shackled with for reasons I still don’t understand.
I shake my head, forcing a smile while I wrap my arm around his.
“Of course. I was just exploring a bit. There’s so much to see,” I say with more animation than I feel.
Whether or not he or the guards behind him believe me, he plays along as we walk around and take in more of the festival.
By the time we leave, I’ve almost convinced myself that I was imagining the familiar face. But evenIknow that would be too easy.
Damian is here. And that means none of us are safe.
Chapter Twenty-Five
By the time we arrive back at the castle, I am frozen solid from the evening snow and my shaken nerves, and Khijha looks no better. She irritably swipes away some snow that has settled into her whiskers, and I stifle a small laugh at her expense.
The feeling of freedom from earlier had disappeared in the wake of Damian’s appearance, and all the reminders it brings. I am here for a purpose, one I am actively not fulfilling. It is one thing to soften the king, but another entirely to allow myself to be softened.
I shake my head, unreasonably furious with myself.
Einar watches me with an expression that is too probing, too insightful, and though I know I should thank him for the day, I find myself walking away from him with a hurried, "I'll see you in the morning, then."
I am only a few footsteps away when his voice follows me.
"On the second day, the people usually stay past nightfall to welcome in the lights."
"What lights?" I turn, curious in spite of myself.
A slow, mysterious smile spreads across his face.
"I suppose you'll have to go back to find out." He is teasing me, but it's more than that.
I believe he genuinely wants me to come.
I have a mission, one I can’t fulfill if we aren’t getting along. I tell myself that's the only reason I dip my head in agreement before turning to shuffle up to my rooms.
When I arrive, Sigrid has a bath waiting for me. Since our first disagreement over the water, she has never filled it more than a hand span high, for which I am grateful. I splash the warm water over myself, letting it slowly thaw me and trying very hard not to think about the last source of heat I used to warm myself.
It's one thing, doing what I need to do. But life has taught me better than to let my feelings get involved, even with a man who is, technically speaking, my husband.
When the king joins me for breakfast, I am already awake and dressed for the day in another of the outfits that Sigrid has provided for me. Today, the accents are the same deep purple as the outside of the berries that make the eiswein. Amethysts sparkle on my nose and upper ear, connected by my usual gold chain.
The jewelry helps to ground me when little else in this place does.
Between that and the fact that I have finally started to wake up at my usual hour, I'm feeling a little more like myself each day. Not that feeling like myself is anything to be excited about. But physically, I’m feeling stronger and more energized than I have in quite some time.
For his part, Einar looks much the same as always. If he feels any differently about me today than he did before our outing to the festival, it doesn't show in his carefully guarded expression. Though, his eyes do linger on my face a little longer than usual, and I can't help but notice the way he angles his chair more toward mine at the breakfast table.
When Sigrid comes bustling in this morning, she surprises me by bringing more than food.
"The post comes not as much far out here, but these letters come today." She holds out two envelopes addressed in handwriting I know as well as my own.
Aika's messy, hurried scrawl is on the top envelope, where she hasn't even bothered to put my full name, let alone a title. It just saysZai, and I shake my head a little, grinning, before looking at the second.
Melodi's patient, careful hand has written out my full title, even the part I hate.Lady Zaina, Consort to King Einar of Jokith. I laugh a little at her unflinchingly straightforward nature.
I can feel Einar's gaze on me, and I force the expression from my face.
