Page 6 of Lady of the Lake

Mischief sparks in his eyes, and the light catches the gleam of a pearl earring. “Are you ready to ascend as a gods-given ruler of Brocéliande, the crown prince’s anointed wife?”

His dark, silken magic skims over me, and some twisted part of my mind wonders what it would feel like to be in love with this man. What about him? Is he even capable of real love? But as soon as the thought brushes against my consciousness, I shove it away again.

“I’m ready to go.”

A lock of dark hair brushes his high cheekbones. “Good. Grab a cloak, and let’s head off. I’ve prepared two horses. We’ve got a ride ahead of us.”

The exhaustion from days of traveling has already burned through my muscles, sinking into my bones. Of course, I can’t tell himwhyI’m this tired. I swallow the truth—that mere days ago, we’d been yards apart, enemies on a battlefield, and he’d come close to killing me.

I sigh. “Won’t it raise suspicion if we run off into the night? You’ll be leaving with your mistress when the king wants you to marry Arwenna.”

He tilts his head. “On the contrary. The court expects me to savor the taste of my mistress before the wedding. It would be rude to disappoint them.”

“You won’t be savoring me.”

He takes a step closer, heat and power rolling off him like smoke. He peers down at me. “All it takes from you is one word, Nia.” His gaze strokes slowly down my body. “One day, you’ll give in. I wonder if you’ll resent yourself for wanting it or hate me for making you. Perhaps both.”

My throat tightens, my cheeks heating under his gaze.

“In any case,” he goes on, “the right to a lover’s farewell is a custom in the court, and one they know I wouldn’t miss. Is it not traditional in Lauron?”

My heart kicks up a notch. Even now, after so much time with him, I always feel at risk of making a misstep. The silken caress of his dangerous magic strokes my skin, and I rack my brain to remember the Fey wedding customs.

“In small towns, mistresses are not as common,” I say at last. “It causes too much emotional chaos, and there aren’t many women to choose from, anyway. Only at court can you get away with that kind of debauchery.”

“Right. Well, in any case, they expect me to fuck you in a cabin in the woods throughout the night. Conveniently, that means the king’s men won’t be breathing down our necks.” His gaze sharpens, copper sliding into the shadows. “But tell me—why, exactly, do you look as if I’m marching you off to your execution? Are you that sad to be in a castle instead of your farm? Surely the nostalgic charm of clawing half-rotten onions from the frozen soil has started to wear thin by now.”

My chest tightens. “This isn’t real.”

He lowers his face to mine. “Is real love what you’re after? Was there a farm boy you set your cap at, Nia?” His deep voice rings faintly with a hint of mockery.

I loop the satchel over my shoulder. “No. Everything is happening very quickly, that’s all. And won’t Arwenna be furious?”

A faint smile. “That is an added bonus. But have no fear—when you are my wife, she won’t be able to lay a finger on you. Anyone who so much as looks in your direction without my permission will beg for death before I’m done with them.”

CHAPTER 4

Ifasten my cloak and follow him out of the room. In the hall, torchlight glows over vibrant tapestries and portraits. Our boots clack against the flagstone, echoing off the soaring Gothic arches.

My thoughts are a storm in my skull as we stalk through the hall.

I can’t marry the man I’m going to kill.

When I glance at the portraits of Fey nobles, I swear they’re watching me. Lace collars and gemstones frame their faces, and their painted eyes seem to shift as I walk past. A trick of the light, but I feel their judgment all the same.

A cloaked traitor here to kill her husband. A viper in the grass.

The air grows colder as we descend the stairs. When we reach the heavy oak doors at the bottom, Talan pushes them open. A vast courtyard stretches to the fortress walls, and a bitter wind tosses drifts of snow in our direction. Soldiers still guard the portal beneath the swaying icy branches of the willow tree.

I tug my cloak more tightly around me and slow my pace near one of our message drops. Talan looks back at me, the wind toying with his dark hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I have a pebble in my boot. Just give me a second, will you? I’ll meet you at the stables.”

He nods, then stalks off, shadows consuming him as he walks away, and I scramble to snatch the message from my leather bag. With cold fingers, I pry up a stone under a thorny briar and shove the parchment beneath it. The message ends mid-sentence, but Nivene will learn the important part: Talan wants to marry me to get out of his marriage to Arwenna. Hopefully, she will realize we need to clean up the Lauron situation, because if she doesn’t, I may end my days with my throat slashed by the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

I straighten and hurry to catch up with Talan, passing the fountain with ravens spewing water from their stone beaks, coils of steam rising into the cold air. In the rookery, soft cooing breaks the silence of the night. I find Talan leading two horses from the stables, a delicate white mare and an enormous black stallion.

I reach for the reins of the stallion. “I assume this one’s for me?”

---