Page 97 of A Kingdom of Destruction

On her fiancé.

On her kingdom.

Cillian’s lips moved against hers with perfect precision, his hands grounding her in a way that almost made her forget.

Almost.

On the other side of the room, the rest of the nobles watched, their expectations like iron chains around her neck.

But it wasn’t their eyes that made her falter.

It washis.

Roran’s.

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Her eyes began to blur, and she saw double the samples of fabric in front of her. The colorful swatches shifted together into a single rainbow kaleidoscope, and Aven stopped, scrubbing her eyes until they burned.

Oof. How many hours had they been working in this claustrophobic room? Servants and palace aides brought in an endless parade of fabrics, flowers, cake samples, you name it. Her throat went dry, and a dull ache pounded between her temples. If she stopped, though, she’d never get back into it. She’d crawl under her covers and refuse to pry them away from her face to face the day.

“Hey, now. We can’t have you working yourself to death here.” Cillian’s fingers kneaded her shoulders and found a tight knot, working at it until her muscles smoothed out and Aven groaned. “Let’s take a break.”

“I don’t need a break. We need to nail down the color scheme of the banners so they can be cut and sewn.” She only repeated what he’d said the day before.

“The banners will wait,” Cillian insisted. “The options are basically the same anyway, and honestly, if we get married without banners, it will be no great loss for me.” He grasped her forearms and physically hauled her out of her chair so quickly she felt the bottom drop out of her.

“What are you doing!”

“I’m taking you away.” He held her hand, ignoring the others in the room who clucked together in a fuss about their departure.

The details were killing her.

Cillian hadn’t said anything, but she guessed they were killing him as well; only he handled the pressure with more grace and civility than she did. The wedding was getting close, and sadness set in.

Once it got its claws into her, the feeling refused to leave.

It made even the most menial task much harder than it needed to be.

“You’re stressed. Talk to me. If you don’t, I won’t know how to fix it,” Cillian said.

“There’s no way for you to fix everything. It’s not your responsibility,” she replied.

He laughed at her. “On the contrary.Youare my responsibility.”

She wanted to believe him, bless his innocent heart, yet somehow found a wall between them. His words fell against it uselessly without even the smallest crack. “My family should be here for this. My sisters and my brothers,” she told him. “I never wanted to get married, but here we are. And I’m doing it alone. I have no friends here, no family…”

To be fair, she hadn’t had any friends at home, either.

Cillian tightened his grip on her hands, and within minutes, they walked through the gardens with a cadre of guards attheir backs. The human protesters had been taken care of, and nothing else stepped out of the shadows to attack them.

They weren’t willing to take any chances.

“Of course they should be here. You deserve to have their support. I’m sorry you’re feeling the weight.”

“It just makes me want to cry, if I’m being honest. I’m not a crier.”

Cillian maintained a brutally fast pace, which didn’t bother her. Not when his hand felt right in hers and they moved with purpose. “What would you say if we brought you a visitor? The first of many, I’m sure, but a very special visitor. You can meet in the library and have several hours at your disposal.”

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