Page 78 of Given

When I was aching and breathless, he pulled back, only to curl a finger under my chin. His lips were wet, and his raspy voice seemed to stroke between my thighs. “If I thought you were a fool, I wouldn’t be taking you to wife.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t argue with me.” He put his lips to my ear. “Listen carefully, Princess, because what I’m about to say is important. I know what you are. I knew before I brought you over the Rift. But others know, too, and they fear your power.”

My throat tightened, Varick’s warnings rippling through my mind.

“The safest place for you is by my side,” Laurent murmured. “Be my queen, and you’ll have the protection of every knight on this side of the Rift.”

My insides trembled. “Who would want to hurt me?” I whispered. But it seemed a lot of people did. The south. My brother. Maybe the whole Brotherhood. I just didn’t understand why. The Fall of Eldenvalla was a children’s bedtime story. Now it was as real as the nightmares that had plagued me my whole life.

Laurent’s breath tickled my ear, lifting the fine hairs on my body. “No one will hurt you if you sit the throne of Nor Doru. I vow it, Given. You are meant for bigger things than Rolund would ever offer. You can be a princess or you can be a pawn. You cannot be both.”

My pulse raced the same way it had the day I walked across the Rift. Now, as then, I stood at a crossroads of sorts. If I went forward, there was no turning back.

His tongue touched the curve of my ear. “And I will make you a queen.”

I pulled back so I could see his face.

Glowing silver eyes stared down at me, power in their depths. Power he was offering as a shield. Problem was, he wanted things in return. I just had to hope it wasn’t more than I was prepared to give.

“Yes,” I heard myself say. “I will wed you.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

LAURENT

I huddled deeper in my cloak as I strode toward the courtyard at the base of the Serenity Tower. Snow whirled in thick eddies, fat flakes settling on the fur ruff around my neck. Tibern hurried in my wake. He hadn’t stopped talking since he burst into my chambers and informed me Varick was readying men to depart for Lar Keiren. In the middle of the fucking night.

My steward’s anxious voice snapped at my heels. “I told him he should clear this with you, Your Grace, but you know how the general is.”

Why yes, I did know.

Tibern nearly crashed into me as I stopped and surveyed the courtyard. Horses stood, their breath steaming, as knights of the warrior class checked stirrups and baggage. A small carriage was hitched to four draft horses. Through the glazed window, Lady Evelina sat stiff and pale-faced. Varick stood beside the carriage, his blond head bent as he spoke with one of his captains.

One of the knights noticed me. “The king!”

As his shout echoed, every knight turned. The few wearing their helmets removed them. Every male in the courtyard bowed his head and saluted.

Varick’s gaze found mine. He murmured something to his captain and crossed the courtyard. When he reached me, he touched his gauntleted fist to the night-blooming rose engraved on his black breastplate and inclined his head. His crimson cloak swirled around his ankles.

Golden eyes met mine. “Your Grace.”

“General.”

Silence hung in the air. Slowly, knights returned to their business. Or pretended to.

When it became obvious I wasn’t going to say anything else, Varick’s mouth tightened. “I hear congratulations are in order, my king.”

“We’ll speak privately,” I said under my breath. I turned on my heel and stalked to a small room where the palace armorer stored chain mail and equipment in need of repair. A moment later, Varick entered and closed the door on a gust of snow, making the single lamp flicker and dance.

I rounded on him. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He remained by the door, his hair like honey in the weak light. He hadn’t shaved, and blond scruff covered his jaw. “I’m for Lar Keiren. It’s past time Evelina was wed.” He offered a humorless smile, the tips of his fangs gleaming white in the shadows. “It’s a season for weddings, it seems.”

“You’re doing this in retaliation.”

His eyes flashed. “Not everything is about you, Laurent.”

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