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Draven was looking me up and down. I tried to discern approval or disappointment in his face, but all I saw was the stern set of his lips.
Breena had been right though. We were dressed to match.
His attire was a fusion of strength and simplicity, of masculinity and pure elegance. Clad in a sleeveless tunic of rich midnight black, his bronzed neck rose above a high, round-edged collar. Adorned with an intricate silver motif of interlaced horns, the tunic parted midway, showing off his chest and accentuating the sculpted lines of his form. A gasp escaped me as I beheld the cascading tendrils of dark, curling hair caressing the contours of his chest.
A wide belt of dark leather cinched his waist. A large leather sheath trimmed with silver accents was strapped to his belt. Strictly ceremonial, I assumed.
Just above his horns, a gold diadem rested on his brow, a slender half-moon band of polished gold that reminded me that Kairos Draven was most certainly a Siabra prince.
He looked wicked and handsome and fine.
And I was to be on his arm. A prize fit for an emperor.
I felt like a fraud. Breena had made me up, but underneath I was just the same. Bruised and grimy and smelling faintly of wild beasts.
I felt light-headed and nervous as I approached Draven.
“This is it,” he said almost gruffly. “Once we leave this room together, you must understand your place, Morgan.”
“By your side, my prince,” I said smoothly.
He nodded and I thought he looked a little pleased, as if he hadn’t expected me to know my line so easily.
“Exactly. But more than that...” He hesitated.
“What is it?”
“We both must change once we set foot outside the walls of this room. You may not like the man I become, but I assure you, there is no other choice. Do your best to watch where I lead, follow as best as you can.”
I nodded. “I’ll try.”
He was hesitating again. “I know none of this was your idea. You did not consent to being named Paramour. But once we leave here together, I would have your word to bind you. To know you understand that what we do, we do to protect you.”
Now it was my turn to hesitate. Then I nodded, briefly. “I do. I understand.”
He looked relieved. “Good. Then let's go.”
I followed him into the hall.
We walked in silence, down gilded marble halls, empty now save for our little group.
I glanced behind me at where Crescent and Odessa walked side by side. Hawl and the red-haired man who Draven had been sparring with the other day came behind them. Trailing behind came Javer, and after him, to my surprise, followed Beks.
We moved through the labyrinthine palace complex until we reached a set of grand doors. A row of guards in black and gold polished armor stood on either side.
“Most of the nobles and contestants are already inside,” Draven murmured to me.
“Fashionably late, are we?” I murmured back.
He smiled slightly and placed his hand on the small of my back. “Now it begins.”
Two guards stepped forward and pushed open the double doors.
A rush of sound spilled out.
A throne room of dark and glorious splendor stood before us, filled with people.
Along the walls to the right and left were tiered rows of seats, mostly filled by what looked like hundreds of Siabran nobility–their gazes all firmly fixated on us.
