My skin prickled. Was he telling me what he planned to do to me? Was this some kind ofgameto him?
“I like it,” he purred. “Very much.”
I shuddered, lamenting the way my skirts kept me from reaching for the dagger strapped to my thigh. Without access to my weapon, I felt naked, and stripped even barer by the malignant appreciation in Kyven’s eyes.
He glanced around, granting my thrashing pulse a reprieve. “But what about your father? Where is he?”
“Not coming. He’s sick,” I said, then cursed myself. Amryssa would’ve said “taken ill.” All those years spent under Eliana’s tutelage had molded her diction into that worthy of a future seneschal.
But the prince didn’t seem to notice my slip. He surveyed the waning grandeur, a smile playing around his mouth. “I can’t say I pictured my wedding this way. I imagine you didn’t, either.”
“I...” I gave a weak cough. “What?”
“Well, neither of us chose this, did we? We’re only here at the behest of other people. So I don’t expect you to take this at all seriously. You can’t possibly relish the prospect of tying your life to a stranger’s.”
I frowned, then reminded myself that for one of us, that life would prove very short, indeed. “It...probably won’t be as bad as it sounds.”
“One can certainly hope.” Kyven smirked, then produced a bouquet of peonies seemingly from nowhere.
I frowned. “What’s this?”
“I figured I ought to dosomethingto brighten the occasion. An empty library seems a rather dismal stage for a royal wedding, does it not?”
A disbelieving laugh lodged in my throat. Some “royal wedding.” This farce amounted to nothing more than Hightower tucking its cruelest monster into Elara’s most forgotten pocket. No amount of offered flowers would change that.
“But you should know,” Kyven continued, “that if you’d rather walk out that door than down this aisle, I won’t stop you.”
I paused. “You’re...giving me an out?”
He shrugged. “Why not?”
I studied him. He looked earnest enough, but...why bother? Was he hoping to dodge this marriage and pin the blame on me? Or maybe he felt some shiver of foreboding when he looked at me. Did he gaze into my eyes and see his end reflected there?
Well, whatever the reason, it didn’t matter. If I didn’t marry this snake, Olivian would only repeat this blasphemy tomorrow night, with Amryssa in my place.
The thought steeled my spine, and I took the flowers from Kyven, my fingers grazing his. His warmth both repulsed and steadied me.
“Look.” I raised my chin. “This match might’ve been Ol...er, my father’s doing, but I’m here for my own reasons, now.”
A slow smile claimed his face. “Oh?”
“Yes. Iwantthis. You. So I choose aisle. Not door. But thanks.”
The assurances slid from my tongue, smooth as oil, because Ididwant this. I needed this fiend to take me to the marriage bed, not my sweet, defenseless friend.Iwould be the one to see his fangs unveiled, to open his throat and watch him drown in his own blood.
He grinned. “Very well then, my lioness. Perhaps you’re susceptible to my charms, after all.”
I committed a series of mental gymnastics in order to keep from sneering. Wow. Arrogant, much?
“Shall we go get married, then?” he said.
Something fiery snapped inside me. “Let’s.”
The officiant pointedly cleared his throat, and Kyven broke from our tete-a-tete to face forward. I clasped the flowers, awaiting some kind of signal, but we wouldn’t have any music, so after a beat of awkward silence, I simply started walking.
The prince matched my strides. “I can’t imagine this matrimony business should be all that difficult, anyway,” he said from the side of his mouth. “From what I’ve gathered, all it takes is trust, fidelity, and a healthy dose of selective hearing.”
I cut him a startled glance.
