Page 60 of Shade of Ruin

He’s not wearing the same traveling clothes he had on earlier. Gone are the rough leather pants and linen tunic that hugged his body so tightly. Now, he’s wearing a brocade tunic similar to Rhion’s, except instead of gold, it’s a red velvet that changes from orange to red depending on the light and angles. He looksmagnificent, like actual royalty, and I feel even less assured of my place here than I normally do.

Yet, when he walks toward me, he doesn’t stop a few steps away like normal. No, the corner of his lip curls up, and I freeze as he puts his hand into my hair. We’re inches away, his body’s warmth radiating through that narrow space between us. His fingers spread through the brown strands of my hair, and his fingertips press against my scalp. That drum inside me pounds so hard that I can’t tell quite how fast my heart is racing. Goosebumps run down my spine at the unexpected and very welcome touch. “Don’t move,” he whispers, that grin spreading across his face.

A warmth flows through me, barely any different from the bath, except this time, it’s radiating from his hand instead of water. His face is inches away from mine, and he’s grinning down at me. I drink in the sparkle in those ice-blue eyes, but neither of us says a word as he stands there for a few moments, his hand wrapped around my hair as though he were going to pull me in for a kiss.

Yet, he releases me without going through with it. “Can’t try on new dresses with wet hair, Maeve. I learned that when I was barely allowed in my father’s court. Seamstresses are more terrifying than any king or queen because they’re all sadists, and you have to let them poke you with pins for hours. So don’t piss them off by showing up with wet hair.”

I put my hand against the hair I’d tied back, and it’s dry. Completely. Like I wasn’t just soaking in a bath five minutes ago. “That’s a nice trick,” I say, trying to recover from the overwhelming feelings coursing through me at his touch. I curse myself as I try to regain some of that coldness I’d decided to embrace at the end of my bath.

This is going to be harder than I’d expected.

“You should see some of the other tricks I have up my sleeve,” he says and turns around to walk away. I’m shocked at the changes in him in the last fifteen minutes since he walked out of my bathing room.

He takes a couple of steps and pauses, looking back at me. “Are you coming? We have to get you a dress, and sometimes that can take a while.”

Right. A dress for a dinner with the King of the Fae. The most powerful person in the entire world other than Calyr, who also happens to be Cole’s abusive father.

Yet, a part of me is excited. Everything’s exciting about this place. The market, while terrible and disgusting because of the slavery, was incredible because of everything else. The city is dangerous and wonderful at the same time. I’m sure that dinner with Cole’s father will be just as conflicting.

After dinner, though, I’m going to share a bed with Cole. I don’t even know how that’s going to work. When I follow him, I can’t help but think of the way he’d looked in just the towel. Stripped nearly bare, in more than just his clothing. He’d felt so… human. The masks that he wears constantly were gone. A handful of seconds of the Fae behind the masks, behind the titles and training.

I’d seen him when he was just a male who craved his betrothed, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

We walk through what feels like miles of that same crimson marble flecked with gold. This time, instead of silence, he points out places. A library this way. The servants’ quarters that way. An art gallery above a stairwell. I try to take it all in, to make mental notes of how to get places within the Keep of Flames. It’s difficult, as most of the corridors and halls are so similar. There’s barely any carpet or decorations. Very few random paintings are on walls, and almost no vases sit on cabinets. Other than thespecifically placed objects far from the normally walked path, this castle is nearly bare.

It almost appears they couldn’t afford to furnish the castle, except that I know that’s not true. Then it clicks. How many young or untrained House of Flames High Fae walk these halls? And how many times did someone walk on a rug and accidentally catch it on fire? I bet they just got tired of replacing the furnishings.

And yet, there’s still so much to see. It’s hard not to stop and appreciate the art and architecture. I know they don’t matter as much from a functional perspective, but I’ve never been anywhere with this much beauty in it. We should hurry to get to the dressmaker, but the only real paintings I’ve seen were the ones that Hazel made for me.

So I stop when one catches my attention. A painting of a hawk rising from a fire, its wings aflame, adorns a wall. “Who painted this?” I ask as I stare at the image. The bird is flying with burned feathers away from the fire, but it’s obvious that the fire will eventually catch it. The expression on the hawk is one of pure determination, though.

“I don’t know.” His words are soft and rumbling behind me, and I expect his hands to be on my waist at any moment, but they never touch me. “Why do you ask?”

There’s nowhere for the bird to turn, no place for the bird to hide, but the expression on the hawk’s face tells me that there’s no way he’ll give up. “It reminds me of you.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, and then he takes my hand. Softly, his fingers entwine in mine, and I look up at him as he steps forward. A single question flows silently from him to me through that magic of our betrothal.The bird or the fire?

I’d never even considered him as the fire even though… I guess anyone from the House of Flames would associate themselves with the fire rather than the bird. But that just doesn’t fit Cole.

“Bird,” I whisper.

A smile crosses his face, and he nods. “Let’s go get you a dress. I’d like it if your clothes were as beautiful as you are.”

I blink. Did Cole just compliment me? I don’t know how to take that. It’s so shocking, I let him drag me through the house silently. All the while, I canfeelCole laughing at me.

This whole betrothal bond is going to be a lot more complicated than I’d expected.

Chapter 28

Vyran and Calyr are certain. Only Kasan hesitates.

The hunters are too close. We must act soon.

~Inni the Destroyer, A History of Magic and Dragons

“Flames,” Cole says tothe dressmaker’s wife, who looks over me, a tape measure in her hands. We’re back in the same shop that Cole had dragged me to after our little fiasco in the market. Except that this time, the dressmaker and his wife are not leaving. The dressmaker’s business isn’t what I’d expected. I’d thought we’d walk into a shop filled with dresses and gowns, and we’d pick one out. Like picking out a good loaf of bread.

I was wrong. So wrong, in fact, that Cole nearly broke into that unending laughter like when I’d made a joke about Lee and Darian carrying us to Draenyth.

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