Fear trickled through me, but I didn’t give it room to breathe—to grow. Having fear wasn’t a weakness. Only the foolish and the false claimed to feel no fear, but that emotion could spread like a plague if given too much thought. I couldn’t think of what could happen—if we weren’t able to hold off the Ascended. If Kieran and Alastir hadn’t been able to send reinforcements in time.
“And that’s not taking into consideration the mist in the Skotos and how it would’ve responded to such a presence.” Emil paused. “Your Highness.”
I jolted at the title. “Excuse me?”
Casteel glanced at me, a slight grin appearing in the moonlight. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a Prince.”
My eyes narrowed. “I haven’t forgotten.”
“And we’re married,” he continued. “Which makes you a Princess.”
“I know that, but the Princess thing isn’t official. I haven’t been…crowned or whatever.”
“It’s customary to refer to you as Your Highness or my Princess, even before the crowning,” Naill explained.
“Can we not?” I asked.
“It would be considered a great dishonor.” Naill paused. “Your Highness.”
I looked at him, and the Atlantian smiled innocently at me.
Casteel snorted.
“By the way, congratulations on the marriage,” Emil said, drawing my gaze to him. My senses told me he was sincere. “I have a feeling you will make a very interesting Queen.”
Queen?
Oh gods, how in the world did I forget that in the whole this-marriage-is-now-for-real thing? There was no way Malik would be in any shape to lead the kingdom once and if he was freed. Casteel would take the throne. Eventually. And I would be…
Okay.
I was not going to think about that.
“Then we will be calling you—Your Majesty,” Emil said, winking at me. “Isn’t that right, Cas?”
“Right,” he replied flatly, placing his hand on my hip. “Both of you should be getting into position.”
Emil and Naill made a great show of bowing before they left. “What was that about?” I asked. “You sending them off like that?”
“It’s official,” Casteel said, watching Emil as he stopped to speak to one of the Guardians. “I’m going to have to kill him.”
My head whipped in his direction. “What? Why?”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
Confused, I glanced back to where Emil was walking toward the stairwell. “How does he look at me?”
His hand was a scalding brand on my hip, even through the layers of clothing. “He looks at you like I do.”
My brows lifted. “That’s not true. You look at me like…”
Those heated amber eyes met mine. “How do I look at you, Princess?”
“You look at me like…” I cleared my throat. “Like you want to eat me.”
Casteel’s eyes narrowed into thin slits as his gaze return to Emil. “Exactly,” he snarled.
I stared at him and then laughed. His gaze flew to mine, his eyes bright and wide like they always were when I laughed. “You’re actually jealous.”
“Of course, I am. At least I can acknowledge that.”
And he was jealous. I could feel it, an ashy coating in the back of my throat. “You are…”
“Devilishly handsome? Wickedly clever?” He turned back to the western sky, where it still carried the haze of fire. “Stunningly charismatic?”
“That wasn’t what I was going for,” I told him. “More like ridiculous.”
“Endearingly ridiculous,” he corrected.
I rolled my eyes. “You know, not once have I even considered seeking the affections of another. Not since I met you.”
“I know.” He bent his head, brushing his lips over my brow. “My jealousy is not rooted in anything you’ve done.”
“Or in logic.”
“That we will have to disagree on. I know how he looks at you.”
“I think you’re seeing things.”
“I know what I see.” He pulled back, his eyes meeting mine. “Every time I look at you, I see a gift I’m not worthy of.”
My breath caught as my heart swelled. It wasn’t new—him saying things like that. What was new was me believing them. “You are worthy,” I told him. “Most of the time.”
He cracked a grin. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”