Page 174 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

Carefully, almost reverently, I pulled back and stepped out of his embrace. I turned, placing the picture back on the mantle and staring at the one next to it. Neverra and Imogen were making goofy faces. I remembered Neverra’s insistence that I join in, and I’d ended up squished in the middle. I looked so different then, so sad. They had tried with everything they had to help bring me back into living and not just existing. I would do the same for them.

Inhaling, I turned toward Samkiel. “I already love our new home.”

The joy that suffused his face took my breath away, and I knew my words meant more to him than a throne or crown. They were everything. This home would belong to all of us because I would carve our enemies into bloody ribbons to get our family back.

His fingers brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Miska, Orym, and Roccurem will be here as well.”

“A full house then,” I said, lifting one brow.

Samkiel nodded and lowered his hand, taking mine. “There is just one more thing.”

He led me deeper into the suite and through another doorway. This room was smaller but spacious enough that a group of us could move freely. A large, half-dusted, freestanding mirror stood proudly to the right. What used to be an ornate dressing screen was sectioning off one corner. It had seen better days, tilting to the side, sections of it broken. A large, round dresser took up a good portion of the center of the room, a collection of drawers running up and down its surface.

“I know you adore large walk-in closets, and I thought this would be perfect once we fix it up.” He smiled at me before dropping my hand. I watched him shift the broken divider to the side, revealing a long dress draped over a plush maroon chair.

My heart stuttered as he moved to the side, watching for my reaction with careful eyes.

“Is that . . .?” My words failed me.

He only nodded.

I stepped toward the dress almost hesitantly. Picking it up by the hanger, I walked to the mirror and held it in front of me, careful not to let it touch my gore-smeared armor. The contrast of the dirty metal against the pristine white fragility of the lace was nearly comical. The fabric looked so soft, and I longed to touch it but was hesitant, not wanting to mar its perfection.

Samkiel stepped behind me, and I met his eyes in the mirror. He was always behind me. I could face anything, knowing he stood at my back. He was my shield, my strength, and soon he would be my husband.

“I hate it,” I said. “The wedding is off.”

Samkiel’s eyes shuttered for a fraction of a second before he saw my smile bloom across my face. He grinned and leaned forward, nipping at my ear. I squealed, lowering my head.

“Stop it,” he growled against my cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “No, that’s the wrong word. It is stunning, Samkiel.”

He beamed and placed a kiss on my cheek. “Just as you are.”

“You just knew I’d love lace?”

He smirked adorably, his lips quirking in smug pride. “I may have paid attention once or twice.”

“Oh, yeah?” I grinned at the challenge. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Black, even though I tell you it’s not a color but the absence of one, and you roll your eyes and say I am being too literal.”

“Okay.” I chuckled. “That was easy. What about—”

“I know you broke your wrist when you were young, protecting your sister. You showed me where the scar was when we were in that small motel on Onuna, and you were trying to make me feel better about my outburst. I know the ocean is your favorite place, even if it still hurts you. When you were young, you lied and said that you and Gabriella had the same birthday so that people would think you were twins. Pasta was the first thing you learned to cook, but baking is your favorite. You prefer silk over most fabrics, leather over rough jeans, and you think that one of the best perks of immortality is that you can wear heels for hours and your feet never hurt.”

A small laugh escaped me at that last part, and I remembered bitching about that on one of our first long treks looking for Azrael’s book.

His eyes shone a bit brighter, and he dipped his chin to press a kiss to the top of my head. “Did I pass?”

I pursed my lips and shrugged. “You did okay.”

“I told you. I always listened, even when you thought I wasn’t.” He focused on the reflection of the dress. “But you do like it? Most I found were far too vibrant or fluffy. I thought this one was perfect for you. It is simple, yet elegant, and on you? It will be absolutely devastating.”

“It’s perfect.” I smiled at him, no longer talking about the dress. I hung the dress almost reverently and turned in his arms, my eyes prickling. I pressed up on my tiptoes and leaned against him, brushing a tender kiss full of promises on his lips. “Absolutely perfect,” I whispered before pulling back. “Now, get out of my room so I can get dressed.”

He threw his head back and laughed before meeting my gaze and stepping away. “As you wish.”

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