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“Of course.”
“Will she watch me sleep?”
“And floss your teeth, if I ask her to,” Cormac says, cutting off my questions. “You aren’t being cute, darling.”
“I’m not aiming for cute.”
“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you—not even yourself.”
“Then what about our deal?” I plead.
Cormac brushes off my objections and picks up his jacket. Before he leaves he says something I already know.
“Deals change.”
FOURTEEN
THE ENGAGEMENT GALA IS A TYPICAL GUILD affair right down to the flashing cameras and my choreographed entrance into the Northern Ministry on the purple carpet. Pressed linen tablecloths and structured flower arrangements are displayed carefully around a slate-gray dance floor. Even my gown had to be approved by Cormac in advance—a gray silk dress that skims my negligible curves and swishes in soft waves to my feet. It’s beaded with silver crystals in triangular patterns that accentuate my waist and catch the dim light in the hall. Martinis are passed on trays. I grab one immediately but put it down after I taste it.
“Don’t be wasteful,” Cormac says, motioning to the abandoned drink. He presses his hand against the small of my back.
“Cormac!” A tall woman in a wine-colored gown dashes over and throws her arms around him, startling us both.
“Dawna, how nice to see you,” he greets her smoothly as he pries himself out of her embrace. His eyes scan her vibrant dress, and then narrow. She must have broken his carefully articulated dress code.
“Your bride has such lovely taste,” she says as she motions to the ballroom filled with Cormac-style objects, and I realize she must not know him very well. Anyone who did would see this is all Cormac’s doing.
“She does indeed,” he responds. He looks past Dawna, scoping out the crowd for someone more important to speak with.
“Actually,” I say, plastering a smile on my face, “Cormac planned the entire event.”
“But Cormac, you have to let the bride plan these things. It is her wedding after all.” Dawna tut-tuts at the end for emphasis.
Me plan the big day? Not if either of us has anything to say about it.
“Would you like that, Adelice?” Cormac says, and he shoots me a look that says, Two can play this game. He can fake the doting fiancé bit, too.
“I wouldn’t dare dream of questioning your wishes.” I push the words out of gritted teeth, never once letting my smile slip from my face.
“I see how she landed you,” Dawna says, smacking me a bit too hard on the shoulder. “Such a lucky girl.”
“Aren’t I, though?” I murmur, smoothing a wrinkle from my long satin glove.
“These are darling.” Dawna brushes her hand over my wrist. “Are gloves coming back in fashion?”
My eyes flicker to Cormac, but he’s busy searching the crowd. “So I’m told.”
“Then I must get myself a pair,” she says.
“Pardon us, I see Minister—” Cormac doesn’t even bother to finish his excuse before he pulls us from her clutches. As soon as we’re a safe distance away, he twists my wrist. “Stop telling everyone you don’t want to marry me.”
I pull against his grip but fail to extricate myself. “I didn’t say that to anyone, and we’ve only spoken to one person so far. Stop being dramatic, darling.”
“We need the four sectors focused on the wedding—”
“Three,” I remind him softly. “There are three sectors now.”
“Of course,” he snaps. He tugs at his bow tie, but I bat his hand away.
