“I eagerly await my debasement at your hands.” Without thinking, I took her hand again, feeling the dryness of the chalk, and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. It was the one touch she allowed me to push upon her and even now, that blush returned.

Ancestors, being this close to her, yet never tasting her, was going to kill me.

She hesitated, her hand curling into mine, the slate forgotten on her lap. Her smile had slipped a little, an expression I couldn’t read in her eyes.

Would she possibly… allow a true kiss? Or would she flee the carriage, fearing my bite?

I drew a breath, wanting to ask if I could have one kiss, a single moment of feeling that sunshine against my lips, but the carriage rattled all around us—the wheels clattering onto the cobblestone roads of Fog Hollow.

From outside the carriage, Eryan’s shout of arrival split the moment between us.

Cirri looked rueful as she drew back from me, signing something with obvious annoyance, then she took up the slate again.

Where did the hour go? she asked. Time’s hardly passed at all.

I let out my breath in a sigh. I would have to ask for that kiss another time, when she was still feeling softly towards me. “As the Rift-kin would say, it’s been stolen by the faeries.”

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Chapter 13 Cirri

Ipushed my slate and chalk back into my bag, astonished at how woeful I was that our all-too-brief hour together had come to an end. I’d been walking on clouds the whole time, happy to finally speak to him, utterly unaware of the disaster that lay ahead of us that night.

At times, that creeping fear of what he was crawled back into my bones, urging me to run far and fast, to hide. But… he had made me laugh. It had been a long, long time since I’d genuinely laughed at anything.

Wyn had provided the bag for my use, and when I’d been informed that I would be traveling alone with my husband, I’d gone out of my way to make it clear that I wanted something for quick communication. The slate and chalk had been brought as Wyn had Yuli and Lissa bathe me within an inch of my life in preparation for meeting the people I would rule over.

It was a strange thought. I knew nothing of noble duties, or anything that might prove useful in leadership. I was as out of my depth as a horse dropped into deep waters.

But Bane made me feel like things were… possible. I knew I was a figurehead, important in name only, but perhaps there would be something I could do, some tangible use, to help foment friendly relations between our kinds. That was my only purpose now—be his wife, and ensure Veladar’s stability.

Embarrassment at what I’d said still burned hot on my cheeks as Eryan pulled us into the midst of Fog Hollow. Comparing vampires to the trap spiders of Serissa… it was unconscionably rude.

But it seemed Bane had entirely forgiven my lapse in judgment, his little jokes to put me at ease—and then he’d held my hand, studying my face with the intensity of a blind man seeing for the first time… had he been wanting to… kiss me?

I considered that notion, trying to ignore the prickle of goose flesh that rose over my back and arms at the thought. At times, I could see the vestiges of what had once been a finely-carved mouth, with an arched cupid’s bow, a full lower lip, stretching in easy smiles—before it was distorted by his thick, jutting jaw and the sharp teeth beneath.

Would his lips be as warm as his hands? I thought so, glancing at him sidelong as he studied the town outside the carriage.

But would they be as gentle? Or would those teeth ache to break flesh?

Could he kiss at all, with a mouth like that?

My musing came to a halt along with the carriage. Through the dark glass windows, I saw that Fog Hollow was not quite the provincial village I’d imagined: roaring bonfires in the harvested fields drew the eye first, then the garlands of primrose draped between stone houses and over tents. Even the fortress, much smaller than Ravenscry but no less imposing, had been festooned with the Fae-warding flowers.

Hundreds of Rift-kin surrounded us, some rolling kegs towards the bonfires, others dancing under flower poles hung with holly. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of how many people awaited us—at that moment, it felt like more people than I’d ever seen in Argent—and my fingers twitched.

This is much more than I expected, I signed, and found Bane watching me.

“I would expect you to be nervous, but I will be with you at all times, Cirri.” He reached out to touch my fingers; despite my fear, I loved the way he said my name, the slightest hint of a Nord accent turning it from a pet name into something infinitely more seductive.

As long as you stay with me, I said, touching his arm again. Not even his fine linen shirt was as smooth as the skin beneath; a strange thing to think about a fiend. I’ve never had to be the center of attention in my life. I don’t want to start now. 

To be sure he understood, I patted him and then myself.

His lips curled upward. “I won’t leave you.”

Relieved, I watched as he unbarred the carriage door and shifted himself outside, the entire carriage tipping to the side. He offered his hand and I took it without reluctance, clutching my bag close with one hand and wrapping the other through his arm, holding him tight.

For a moment I almost smiled to myself; I’d been terrified of him the night before, and now I clung to him like he was a shield.

Wyn and Visca were behind the carriage, Visca on a large black gelding, Wyn riding a dainty white mare. The bloodwitch dismounted and handed off the reins to one of the soldiers. “Time to go make nice,” she muttered to herself, and for once I found myself in total agreement with her.

The supply wagons were some way behind us, but from what Wyn had told me, they contained shipments of weapons and preserved food that would be distributed to the smaller settlements outside Fog Hollow. For now, we weren’t here to make deliveries, but to prove to these people that their lord protector was keeping his throne.

So I did my best to fix a smile, however tremulous, on my mouth, all too aware that these people would not look at me as a scullery maid.

Bane led me toward the bonfires, and outside the carriage I could see clearly that the entire village had gathered in this field for the celebration; long tables had been dragged out around the bonfires, what seemed like a thousand beer and wine kegs were already tapped, and every available surface was covered in red cloth or strewn with flowers.

There was a table reserved for Bane, made obvious not only by the fact that it was in pride of place in the celebrations, but by the enormous carved chair, big enough to sit a fiend.

And by the slightly smaller chair next to it—heavily entwined with elaborate garlands of primrose and holly. It would feel like sitting in a shrubbery.

But if it made these Rift-kin feel better about me, so be it. I’d sit in the shrubbery and touch cold iron all night if it eased their minds.

As we passed, Bane greeted many of the Rift-kin by name, reaching out to clasp shoulders and exchange quick pleasantries, particularly with the men. I realized these men—most of them scarred, some missing eyes or limbs—were the men he had fought with against the Forians.

They knew him, trusted him. He was not a shadowy figurehead in the castle to these people; he had shared blood, sweat, and tears with them, crawled through the same hardships day in and day out.

My stomach suddenly churned with a cramping ache. I had no place here. He belonged to them, and I was merely an outsider.