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He read my gaze plainly, and for a moment, his flat expression was replaced with a flash of what might have been forced politeness. “Hello, Talia,” he said, his voice devoid of warmth.
I nodded demurely, hating that this was how my marriage was starting out.
To sever the awkwardness, I picked up my fork. The dish, decorated with a sprig of parsley and wedge of lemon, smelled heavenly. A question erupted from my throat.
“Why did you marry me?”
His fingers stiffened around the stem of his wine glass. After an agonizing moment of silence, he placed his glass down and began eating.
The longer we ate in silence, the deeper I sank into myself, remembering the times I’d sat along the edges of the ballroom, watching Zara whirl across the dance floor in the arms of yet another suitor.
Before my courage ran out entirely, I added, “Will this be the kind of marriage where we do not speak unless we talk of things that interest you?” At dances, I’d heard young women complain of such marriages.
His eyes snapped up. He set his fork down and leaned back, studying me.
“Will you speak at all?” I asked, not hiding the anger in my voice. Anger was better than the ache growing in my throat.
“What shall we speak of?”
“I…er…” I squirmed as he blinked at me. “Your horses.”
One side of his lips twitched up, and a rush of heat flooded my cheeks. To hide my blush, I shoved a bite of food into my mouth.
“What do you want to know?”
The openness of his question was unexpected. Perhaps he would allow me to speak, to ask questions. Pressing down the excitement in my chest, I thought about everything I wanted to know. Did he use magic to train his horses? That might sound rude. What races had his horses won? That also might sound rude.
In the distance, the sound of a tree cracking startled me. The wind wasn’t blowing that hard. Perhaps a dead tree had finally fallen. He whirled around briefly, only to refocus on me just as quickly.
He took a careful bite, his expression clearly still awaiting my response. Questions raced through my mind, and with a jolt, I realized the midsummer races had ended hours earlier.
“Who won?” I spluttered. “At midsummer? Did your horse win?”
Rafael slowly took a sip of wine, torturing me. “Indeed. I watched the race.”
“You were there?” Jealousy bit at my tone.
“I assure you, my presence was not welcome.” His mouth twisted again into a villainous smirk. “It was better that you were not there.”
My heart sank. I picked up my own wine glass, hoping he didn’t notice my obvious deflation at his dismissive words.
“But my horse did win, yes.”
I pressed my eyes shut, picturing my parents embracing. My heart ached that I couldn’t celebrate with them. But they wouldn’t be celebrating if I hadn’t come here—with him.
“Your father is now a very wealthy man.”
A sigh escaped my lips. It had been worth it. A loveless marriage was a price I was willing to pay in exchange for ensuring my parents’ future. That’s what I’d agreed to in that snap decision in the marketplace.
The food, while divine, disturbed my uneasy stomach, and every creeping regret was mitigated by the knowledge that I’d saved my parents. Ortiz could rot in the sun for what he’d tried to do to my family.
Neither of us reopened the subject of his horses, so as we ate, we exchanged only silent glances. His expression revealed very little. This fae was entirely in control of what he revealed to others, and he had determined, or so it seemed, to show me nothing at all of his true self. Each time our eyes met, I had the unsettling idea that he could read every thought inside my head.
“Listen,” Rafael hissed, his finger shooting into the air, though I hadn’t said anything in several minutes. He scanned the clearing, his body tense.
My heart hammered in my chest, but all I could hear was the breeze rustling the branches of the nearby trees. Memories of the large creature outside the tent filled my mind.
“Return to the tent,” he commanded in a low voice. “Now.”
