I turned toward her. As I did, she drew a dagger from her pocket. It was beautiful, the hilt and scabbard made with gold-plated steel and red rubies.
“Nadia.”
This time when I said her name, I sounded breathless.
“Take it,” she said. “It is a gift.”
She urged the dagger into my hands, and I unsheathed it with a snick. The blade was narrow, sharp, and unmarred.
“Kill him, Issi,” she said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction of claiming victory over the House of Lara.”
I met Nadia’s gaze.
“It is the honorable thing to do,” she added, holding on to my chin. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to my forehead before leaving the room.
I stared down at the dagger and then at myself.
You are the hope of our kingdom, Issi, my father had said. Did that mean I should fulfill my agreement to marry Adrian and step into the role as queen of Revekka, or did that mean I was one who could get close enough to kill him?
There was a knock at my door, and I jumped, not prepared to be disturbed so soon after Nadia’s departure.
“A moment!”
I slipped the blade into its sheath and shoved it between my breasts—a snug and uncomfortable fit, but it was the only place to hide it on my person, and I wanted to be armed at my wedding.
I turned toward the mirror and pretended to adjust wisps of my hair.
“Come in.”
My hands fell to my sides as I glimpsed my visitor in the mirror. King Adrian had entered my suite, dressed in a black tunic and an overcoat lined with intricate gold stitching. It did not escape me that we matched.
I turned to face him, taking in his overwhelming presence. The king was tall and filled my chamber like evening shadows. His hair fell in golden waves past his shoulders, and upon his head, he wore a crown of black spires. His strange white-blue eyes held my attention and then lowered, tracing a path down my body that left me holding my breath, warm in places that should be as dead as his lifeless heart. The fact that they weren’t made me feel like a traitor to my people—and angry with him.
“You aren’t supposed to see me before the ceremony. It’s bad luck.”
It was a ridiculous thing to say. Bad luck had proceeded this whole thing, but I was growing nervous under his stare, which only seemed to darken the longer he looked.
Adrian’s lips curled. I couldn’t really call it a smile. Then he spoke, his voice trickling down my spine like drops of cool water. Suddenly, my mouth was dry.
“Considering the reasons for our marriage, I think I will chance it.”
He closed the door behind him, and I heard the distinct sound of my lock clicking into place. My back straightened painfully, and I was hyperaware of the metal hilt digging into the softness of my breasts.
“Can I help you, Your Majesty?” I asked curtly.
His approach was graceful, his eyes locked on mine.
“I merely wished to look upon my bride before we are to exchange our vows.”
I refrained from rolling my eyes.
“Having second thoughts?” I asked, elevating my voice to what I thought sounded hopeful.
He chuckled.
“No, if anything, I am more determined to make you my wife.”
He paused before me, and now I could smell him, and it reminded me of cedar forests. A fresh, crisp scent that hit like cold, misty mornings. It was calming, but only for a moment, because when I realized what was happening, I stiffened, glaring up at him.
“Why is that?”
He lifted his hand slowly, studying my eyes as his palm fell flush against my cheek. I swallowed and let a shuddering breath escape between my lips as his thumb brushed my skin.
“Do you tremble because you fear me?” he asked.
“Yes,” I breathed, because I would never admit otherwise—that his touch had a heat forming low in my stomach.
He dropped his hand.
“Then why do I sense arousal?”
“That is…” I couldn’t find words.
“Deny it,” he said. “If it will make you feel less of a traitor.”
“I wasn’t going to deny it,” I said. “But it is vulgar nonetheless.”
“Hmm.” The corners of his mouth tilted again. “I am vulgar.”
I looked away, no longer able to maintain eye contact, and asked, “Did you come here to taunt me?”
“I would never taunt you,” he said.
“It sure doesn’t seem that way.”
“That is because you are ashamed,” he said.
His words drew my gaze back to him. This time, he moved quickly, securing his hand behind my head. “Soon, however, I hope you will find pride in being my wife.”