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But why?
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning, Anaria.” Tavion narrowed his eyes as the first of today’s unfortunates approached the throne and knelt before the king.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I tried to ignore how enormous Tavion was, how overwhelmingly male. My body was suddenly too hot, my dress too tight, my head spinning as his scent—and the room—closed in around us.
“Don’t play the fool. You’re going after the scroll.” He leaned back, stretched an arm across the back of the bench, his hand cupping my shoulder, thumb drawing lazy circles on my skin. “Foolish and dangerous.”
“What’s foolish is a one hundred year campaign when you don’t even know why you’re doing it.” I retorted softly. “I can’t believe none of you were curious.”
“Raziel tried, once.” Tavion’s hand tightened in warning and sat up straighter when Crux and Lyrae appeared, swords at the ready behind the poor courtier. “He was nearly caught.”
I closed my eyes as the male begged the king to spare him. “Of course, he did. He knows nothing about this is right.”
The audience took a collective breath and my entire body went tight, visions of Ember and the Reaper and Lyrae handing me the knife tangling up inside my head while my stomach churned. Then Tavion pulled me against him, his arm wrapped so tight around me I barely heard the thunk of the sword as the courtier lost his head.
“Fucking barbaric.” Tavion’s low growl rumbled against my cheek as I fought to stop my trembling. “I swear to the gods, this has to end.”
We were both quiet while the body was dragged away, Lyrae’s gaze finding mine as she took up her position beside the throne, her sword dripping blood. Her pointed smile turned cold as ice, and beside me, Tavion stiffened.
I smiled right back. This cold-blooded bitch would never know how much killing Ember hurt me.
I’d never give her the fucking satisfaction.
“Friend of yours?”
“Not even a little.” He hadn’t taken his arm off my shoulders, and part of me was glad. Let Lyrae think whatever she wanted, even from here, I could see her trying to figure us out. I leaned further into him, my smile growing when her eyes narrowed.
If yesterday had taught me anything, it was that I’d take my victories wherever I could, and never show my weaknesses, especially not to this bitch who would report them straight back to the Oracle.
“Lyrae is the Oracle’s spy, you know. She tricked me yesterday into doing something…foolish.” I ran my fingers up the front of Tavion’s shirt, ignoring the hard muscle beneath. My father was watching as well, eyes glinting. “We have to know what’s on that scroll.”
“It seems I am behind the times.”
“Way behind.” I agreed, I patted his knee. “But I know you’ll get caught back up eventually, husband.”
“Going after the scroll is madness.”
“You’re a betting male, right?” When he went silent, I glanced up at his rigid profile. “I wager one gilder I’ll have that scroll in my possession by noon.” I didn’t have a gilder, but once I broke into my father’s offices, he’d be sure to have a few laying around.
“You are infuriating.”
“Yet you married me anyway.” He was furious, that much was clear, and a shiver of satisfaction went through me. This, I liked. Seeing him pissed off, knowing I’d caused his anger.
My smile got wider. “I understand if you don’t want to lose that bet…”
“Godsdamn it, Anaria.”
* * *
The restof the odious audience was no better, Tavion spent most of it in hissing orders under his breath, orders I had no intention of following. My father seemed especially cruel today and Crux…well, Crux seemed off his game. I wondered if he’s heard about Ember, though I expected Lyrae had told him straight away.
It seemed the sort of thing she’d do.
Tavion—my devoted husband—escorted me from the throne room, one hand clamped over my arm to keep me from escaping. “I forbid you from going after the scroll.” My mouth quirked up.
“You are adorable, husband, thinking you can forbid me from doing anything. I shall meet you later.”
I peeled his fingers off my arm one at a time, then went to my tiptoes and planted a kiss on his cheek, whispering, “You will owe me one gilder, and you’d best not renege.” He opened his mouth to respond, but I was already gone.
