Page 17 of Ties of Death

He smirks like he’s won some sort of victory. “Always a pleasure, Emana.”

He strolls past me, past Daenn, giving his king the same smirk.

Daenn’s jaw works as he finally focuses on me.

I speak before he can. “So good of you to show up.”

His gaze softens slightly. “I came as soon as I could.”

Something knots in my chest at his voice. Gentle, familiar, more likemyDaenn. I swallow. “Shall we?”

He nods, flicking a hand at my guards. They bow and head back down the hall.

Daenn closes the distance between us and offers me his arm. I almost refuse it, but reluctantly, I take it.

The material of his tunic is smooth and thin under my hand, leaving nothing to the imagination and doing nothing to hide the way his muscles flex at my touch. He is again wearing gloves; they are clearly a permanent fixture of his wardrobe these days.

He guides me into the hall. It truly does look like the entire clan has gathered, and I can’t help but grip Daenn’s arm tighter at the sight. Everyone stares at us.

There’s not as much fear as I expected—yes, there’s some, and there are certainly people who look on with disdain or scowls, but far more than I expect look at Daenn with respect.

Some even approach to speak with him. Everyone is undoubtedly reserved—both the clansmen and Daenn himself—but they don’t act like they fear him. And he listens to each and every one intently, asking questions and making suggestions about whatever it is they’ve approached him about. It doesn’t fit the picture I’ve constructed in my head. He’s not acting like the heavy-handed tyrant I expected. Like a monster who murders a man to stealhis wife.

Their reception ofmeis more mixed. A few greet me enthusiastically with warm hugs, and one of the kitchen staff takes the time to point out they’ve made my favorite sweet cakes for my homecoming.

But others are more wary. No onesaysanything about what I’ve done with my new unnatural magic, but I can practically hear them all thinking it. I didn’t do it intentionally, wield it like an Elyri or a lowlander, but I’m not sure they care.

Given that three people are comatose in the infirmary, I don’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to be near me either.

As we finally make our way down the hallway after the festivities end, I’m so exhausted I’m almost tempted to curl up right here and go to sleep. Instead, I push my shoulders back and focus on keeping my steps steady. No need to show how weary I am.

“You should have told me you were tired,” Daenn says into the silence around us. “You didn’t have to stay so late.”

I blink. I guess I wasn’t hiding it as well as I hoped. “It would have been bad form to sneak away from a feast in our honor.” I can still remember how Tolomon snarled at me when I quietly suggested just that at a party his parents threw for us shortly after our marriage. It was the first time he truly lost his temper with me, and it shocked me into silent compliance.

Daenn stops walking and gives me a look. “When have I ever cared about ‘form’?”

A smile tugs at my lips before I realize. “You’re king now. Kings—” I stumble into silence as I realize what I’m doing.

We aren’t friendly. There’s no reason to speak to him like we are.

I clear my throat and quicken my pace. A thick disappointment wraps around my rib cage, a feeling I can’t even begin to account for.

I absently rub at the silver tattoo branded into my arm. There’s phantom residual heat to it. We can never be like we were before. Why can’t my heart understand that?

It’s a moment before I hear him start walking again, and the silence is much heavier than it was.

When we reach his room, he opens the door for me. I stride right in, already loosening the side ties on my dress—until I see him, out of the corner of my eye, closing the door behind him.

With him on this side of the door.

Horror curdles my gut.

Daenn is staying here tonight.

11

Bitter Rivals

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