Page 78 of Prince of Night and Storm
“When he approaches you, bow. When he touches you, submit. If he asks, is this against your will, tell him his will is yours. Do as I say, and survive. Then you can plan.”
No. Irefuseto want this.
His hand moves forward?—
I grab his wrist.
Chapter
Twenty-Four
RUN, AND I WILL GIVE CHASE
“At the White Square,” I say quietly, “you paid for touching me without my leave.”
I release his wrist and he lowers it to his side, fingers folding into a loose curl.
“Ah. Was I the only one who paid a price.”
Here is where his mercurial nature shows through. Hot, then cold. Cruel, then almost gentle. Painfully, disturbingly, intimate. Then the distance of High Court formality.
His eyes an endless night I can lose myself in.
Anfa sara, Malisse, sa ni tala'vesh. Sovva la anfa, saanfa nira ni baad.?1
Darkan?
The whisper was Ninephene. I can catch one basic word out of three rather than five now. After Danon was taken I studied, but the language primers we have are basic.
It’s an interesting oversight for a city with a renown University, whose Prince is a scion of Ninephe’s ruling family.
. . .I don't know what I was thinking making a Vow inNinephene.
Thinking?Darkan's tone is acerbic as usual, though closer to the exasperated side of the spectrum.I don't believe we understand that word in the same fashion.
“Lord Étienne, I'm gratified you accepted my invitation,” the Prince says. It’s a smooth voice, pitched low, adorned with that faint accent of his homeland. “You, and your daughter.”
As if we had a choice.
I'd burned his letter. I'd burned his letter dreaming it was his palace.
My brother’s gonna kick your ass!my inner 13-year-old screams.
Prince Renaud’sswirling eyes stop, and flare.
I tamp the 13-year-old down.
“I'm pleased to have accepted it,” my father replies, also smooth, but warm. A diplomat's voice. “I'm equally pleased to present my daughter, Lady Aerinne, Heir Presumptive of House Faronne.”
Because I know him, I hear the thread of hope in his voice. My father wants peace; he'll be devastated when I confess the Vow tightening around my neck.
The most incompetent, foolish Vow I have ever had the displeasure of witnessing,Darkan says, as if I wasn’t already well aware of his opinion.
As if he ever keeps his opinions to himself.
“I am delighted to formally meet you, Lady Aerinne.”
I doubt that. I doubt that very much. It can't be a blatant lie, but trust a High Fae to drive a semi through a loophole the size of a pinprick. But he’s right—knocking me around a battlefield then showing up unannounced at my house in the morning doesn't qualify as a formal introduction.
