Page 22 of Thief of Souls
This is the dangerous part. I know he wants to know who rules over me.
“It won’t be an issue.”
“It won’t?” There’s a dangerous look in his eyes.
“My sister is missing,” I point out. “If I can find her… then my king won’t question it. He’ll think I merely went to save her.”
Keir examines my face and then gives a curt nod.
He believes me.
I turn away with the dress in hand.
I have little more than a week before the wedding takes place.
A week in which to locate the horn, find my sister, betray Keir, and escape an entire court who will most likely want my head for what’s about to take place.
A week to figure out a solution to the oath that binds me to Keir.
At least this time, he knows who and what I am. If I steal the horn out from under him, that’s his own cursed fault for trusting me a second time. I don’t have to worry about the entanglement of feelings or whether I’m going to break his heart.
He’ll hate you for this.
But it will be done,I argue with myself.He’ll never trust you again. And he doesn’t trulyneedthe horn. He won’t suffer for any of this.
“Are you alright, my lady?” the maid asks.
“Just preparing myself for this torture contraption,” I reply, picking up the corset. I throw Keir one last glance over my shoulder. “Do you mind giving me some privacy?”
The heat in his eyes smolders. “You have five minutes.”
And then he and the footman vanish around the corner of the carriage.
Dressing swiftly, I accept some help from the lady’s maid he’s provided for the corset and other undergarments. Soon, I’m drowning in silk. It’s as blue as a field of cornflowers, and I can’t help fingering the little cap sleeve that sits on my shoulders. Dozens of silver mesh flowers are embroidered on the bodice, spilling into the skirts with such abundance it looks as though I rolled in starlight.
If I was to conjure a dress out of my dreams, it would be this dress.
You can’t afford this dress.
Still, it’s sopretty.
Keir falters as I walk out from behind the carriage, trying to haul my silken skirts out of the dirt. I can barely move my legs or breathe, and I don’t care one whit. There’s a look on his face that momentarily makes me pause. For a second I can’t identify it.
Hunger.
The realization makes my breath catch.
For all my faults, for all that’s come between us, he still wants me.
“It’s the same color as your eyes,” he whispers. “I wondered whether I’d imagined it the second I saw the silk….”
For the first time in my life, I can’t get the words out. They’re trapped in my throat, right along with the need to breathe. “Youchose the silk?”
His face shuts down, all of his emotions locked away. “Someone had to. Shall we?” he murmurs, offering me a hand to assist me into the carriage.
I take his hand.
The horn awaits.
