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“Show everyone that you accepted his gift,” Sebian said. “Lift up your arm, sweetheart. Flaunt it.”
I lifted my arm higher, giving the air a little sweep to let the buttonsclinkandclankbefore the clapping crowd as I looked at Malyr. “Thank you.”
Nodding, he grabbed a nearby knife with one hand and clasped my wrist with the other. The moment the cool metal touched my skin, I flinched, but he merely let the blade cut through the blue silk ribbon, letting it fall to drown between carrots and peas in the pot of soup before us.
An unreasonable sense of loss wormed through my belly. I couldn’t say why, but I’d grown quite attached to that ribbon. And perhaps I would have remarked on its loss, wasn’t it for how the memory of words echoed in my head.
Males often gift beautiful objects to a female in courtship,they said.Nothing but Ravens quarreling for power.
Numbness crept up along my neck and spread across my cheeks. Gods be merciful, Malyr’s reaction when he’d found the ribbon on me made so much more sense now! The raven the night of the storm? It hadn’t attacked me.
It hadcourtedme!
My gaze found Malyr’s. “Do you have traitors or Raven lords with too much ambition at court?”
“It wouldn’t be a true court if I hadn’t, no?” he asked. “The extinction of a royal house is usually followed by the rise of another. Your father’s army could have ensured that.”
It might also have ensured me other options, but that was no longer something to build on. Malyr could have cut off the ribbon the day of the dress fitting. Instead, he’d waited until tonight.
A public warning for my secret suitor.
I ran a finger over the dangling buttons, hoping to find a sense of calm in their clanks, but none came. “Who is he?”
“This must be the first time your innocence pleases me.” He leaned into me, letting his lips press against my temple where they framed a dark whisper. “If I ever find out who dared to court you, little dove, I shall cut off his balls and feed them to my ravens. And you will watch.”
My breath hitched at his possessive tone, the warning that growled through his voice. He sounded angry. Enraged.
Jealous?
“Groom your female, my prince,” a woman shouted. “Or by the goddess, you’ll find yourself roosting alone tonight.”
“Quite so,” Malyr said over giggles and bellows of the crowd before he looked at me. “Have you ever watched how birds court in the wild?”
“I can’t say that I have…”
“The male will inch along a branch beneath the spring sun, hoping to get closer to the female without her chasing him off.” With one hand firmly situated on my hip, Malyr slowly lifted the other to my head. “If he succeeds, he will run his beak through her feathers…” his nails parted my open hair, running along my scalp in one long sweep that sent languid warmth down my spine, “like so.”
My shoulder blades pulled together. My bosom rose. I all but shuddered in overwhelming delight when his rhythmic strokes continued to comb through my ends, giving little tug-tug-tugs on my scalp. It was hypnotizing, but not quite so much tonotmake me see what was going on here. This was nothing but him further discouraging my suitor by feigning affection. His tender touch meant nothing.
But I would still enjoy it.
Just once, now that I could.
Nails ran down along my spine. A palm stroked up along my waist. Knuckles ghosted over the base of my neck. A gentle caress here, a finger twirling around a stray strand there. Gods have mercy, I hadn’t thought the man capable of feigning quite so much tenderness.
“Ravens groom and preen each other for hours,” Malyr continued, twirling my hair around his arm before he lay it over my shoulder, letting cool air lick at my exposed neck.
Fingers drew tight circles up along one side of my spine, making my mind go numb with how they kneaded sore muscles, making my head loll on my shoulders. Oh gods, not allowing myself to succumb to my wits with his false affection was torture. Wonderful, sublime torture.
“For that reason, long open hair is a sign of being untethered, unbonded,” he crooned. “Tell me, my betrothed, will you braid my hair?”
I fought my body’s urge to slump against his. “Certainly not before I can call you my husband.”
“Mmm, such doubt in those words.” He gingerly tucked a falling strand behind my ear before he whispered, “Yeh ash valtem sorg fer’ya.”Lips brushed against the shell of my ear. “I will forever care for you.”
A quiver ran through me at the sound of those words, that unadulterated love I’d longed for all my life. For a moment, no more than a few breaths, I allowed myself to soak in them. Pretend they were neither recited tradition nor lie. How wonderful would that be?
“No suitor could possibly convince a female to bond with him without feeding her first.”
