Page 99 of The Hurricane Wars

Alaric felt like a menagerie animal as he sat at the head table with Talasyn while the Nenavarene court scrutinized them. He picked at each dish brought out by a never-ending parade of smartly dressed attendants and took sparing sips from each vintage that was poured to complement the various courses.

Beside him, Talasyn was faring no better, unenthusiastically prodding at her spiced lamb with a bejeweled fork. There was a rustle of silk as she tried to cross her legs and failed, thanks no doubt to the voluminous inner layers of her skirt. She huffed, irritated, and resorted to taking out her frustrations on the lamb on her plate, hacking at it with a viciousness ill-suited to their elegant surroundings.

“That thing’s dead enough, surely,” Alaric drawled.

Talasyn’s eyes remained glued to her plate. She’d been avoiding his gaze ever since the end of their dance, and he could hardly blame her.Somethinghad passed between them, some smoldering charge. But with the entire court looking on, there was no space to examine it further.

Alaric’s knee started bouncing under the table—a mannerism that he rarely indulged in, but he was bored and uncomfortable and this night couldn’t end soon enough. He didn’t realize that he was jostling Talasyn’s leg until he felt a light slap on his knee and he glanced down to see her hand still poised above it, her wedding band sparkling on her ring finger.

“Did you justspankme?” he asked, incredulous.

“Either stay still or sit further away,” she told her plate.

Alaric was not, by nature, a petty man. He was also keenly aware that he was six years older than his bride and it would behoove him to act in a manner befitting not only an emperor but also the mature one in this fraught new relationship. However, one glance at Talasyn’s ferocious little scowl, her profile scrunched up in annoyance, was all that it took for him to spread his legs wider, encroaching into her space.

She turned to him with a glare, clutching her fork as if shewas about to stab him with it. He gave her his frostiest smirk, all trace of discomfort forgotten. Nowthisfelt like home.

But something that Elagbi had said earlier was weighing on his mind. Deciding that now was as good a time as any to bring it up, he leaned in closer to his new bride—even if itdidbring him into worrying proximity to her pointy fork.

“Earlier, Prince Elagbi reminded me that you learned the truth of your origins when we were taken prisoner at the Belian range. You were aware that you were his daughter all throughout the last month of the Hurricane Wars. That’s the reason you fled to Nenavar. You knew you’d be welcome here. But why go back to the Continent at all?” Alaric’s tone grew softer in his puzzlement as, in stark contrast, tension rippled through Talasyn, pulling every muscle tight.

She glared at him. “The Amirante said that she needed me to concentrate on the war, and I agreed.”

“You told me that you’d been lonely all your life,” Alaric said with a frown, “waiting to be reunited with your family. And then youwere, but you left, and you returned to a war that was already as good as lost by that point. I understand that you must have felt beholden to debrief Ideth Vela, but you didn’t even think to ask her if you could sail back to Nenavar?”

“I had a duty,” she replied, sounding confused as to what his point was. “Of course I had to see it through until the end.”

Before he could argue, Niamha Langsoune approached the head table, all sophisticated grace and pleasant smile and copper robes. “Your Grace, Your Majesty,” she said in a low voice, “it’s time to make your exit.”

Unseen by anyone else, Talasyn’s fingers suddenly dug into Alaric’s thigh beneath the table. They were to leave the Grand Ballroom and retire to her chambers for their wedding night. Granted, it had already been agreed that they wouldn’t actually doanything, but still...

As if on cue, Urduja rose to her feet, effectively putting a stop to all conversation. “Honored guests,” she said, holding a glass of wine in her hand, “I thank you for celebrating this historic night with us. Through this union, we have engendered a new age of peace and prosperity for the Nenavar Dominion and the Night Empire. Please join me in a toast to the newlyweds as they embark on the next chapter of their lives together.”

Talasyn thought that she was holding up pretty well, all things considered. She had managed to leave the feast with poise, had even offered Alaric a stiff but polite nod before they were escorted to their respective suites for a change of clothes. Away from the hubbub, finally out of sight of prying eyes, with her hair down and her torturous shoes and false lashes removed at long last, she was feeling more optimistic about getting through the rest of the evening with no added stress. But all that changed when Jie marched out of the dressing room, bearing Talasyn’schange of clothes.

“I amnotwearing that.”

“But, Lachis’ka, it’s tradition—” Jie started to plead, but Talasyn cut her off.

“Look at that thing!” She gestured in dismay at the—well, it was hardly even a dress. It was hardly even ascarf, by her standards. True, it had long sleeves and it trailed past her ankles, but that didn’t matter when it was made of material so sheer that she couldsee through it, with only stylized appliqués strategically positioned to cover her... herbits. “Who in their right mind would...” She faltered, at a complete and utter loss for words.

“It’s lingerie, Your Grace,” Jie hastened to explain.

“I don’t care what it’s called,” Talasyn savagely declared. “I’m not putting it on.”

Jie appeared disconcerted. Talasyn raised an eyebrow, daring the girl to argue with her.

The standoff was interrupted by the sound of chimes. Alaric had arrived outside her solar.

“Lachis’ka, the Night Emperor is here,” Jie implored. “There’s no more time.”

Talasyn should have put up more of a fight. But Jie wouldn’t understand, because, as far as she was concerned, what would follow was a legitimate consummation. Talasyn didn’t need gossip contradicting that spreading through the court.

“Fine,” she sighed, her shoulders sagging in defeat.

Jie worked quickly to extricate Talasyn from the wedding dress, arrange her hair into a simple braid, and spritz perfume on her pulse points. The chimes sounded again just as the flimsy excuse for a nightdress was being slipped over Talasyn’s head.

Jie winked. “Someone’s impatient.”

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