Page 120 of Bride of the Midnight Prince

“Indeed.”

The sound of my own short breaths fill the room. I rub my arm, and my gaze finds refuge in the dancing flame of the candles.

Rahk opens his mouth and shifts on his chair. “Listen, Kat, I—”

His use of my nickname stuns me yet again like a lightning bolt. I pull away, wishing this chair didn’t have a back so I could retreat further. “How do you know I go by that?”

“Because you told me.”

“When?”

Something in his expression twinges. He looks very subtly uncomfortable. “The night you were drunk.”

The blood drains from my face. What did I tell him? He said I didn’t say anything! I try to return to that memory, but I find nothing except that cursed drinking game.

“Yes, I lied to you,” Rahk says coolly. “You saidlotsof things. For one, you confessed to being a woman.”

My jaw unhinges. Then blood pounds in my ears. “How dare you take advantage of me like that!”

A muscle jerks in his throat. “I did not!”

I laugh. “That’s right. You’re a fae. You must have different definitions of what it means to take advantage of—”

“You threw yourself in my lap, kissed me, and declared that you were a woman!” Rahk snaps. “I was sitting at my desk. Minding myownbusiness. Telling you to go to bed.Youthrew yourself at me.Youtold me your secrets. All I did was ask if you were in danger and what your real name was. Great Kings!”

I . . .what? I stare at him, mortification coming in such a flood I can hardly bear to be in the same room as him. All at once, my apologies bubble to my lips. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me, my lord. I never should have—”

He gets to his feet. One of his broad hands rakes through his long white hair. “I am not your lord anymore. I am your husband. Please address me as such.”

I clamp my lips shut. Those words, that declaration, my mind cannot process.

I am your husband.

“Call me Rahk,” he says, and his voice is quiet once more. He doesn’t look at me. He turns his back, his head bowed as though in thought. Then he gestures to the room. “Please, make yourself comfortable. This room is yours now. You know the servants, so do not hesitate to request anything that you need.”

I watch, not understanding the way my stomach drops at his words.

His hand lands on the door handle. He pauses. Then, without looking at me, he says, “Goodnight.”

The door shuts behind him. I collapse onto the bed, my shoulders vibrating from the belated shock of the day. Just as soon as I do, I bounce upright again. This ishisbed. It’s not mine, no matter what he says.

I take myself to my old room, with its familiar comforts and privacy, and slam the door shut.

I drag my hands through my short hair, grabbing it at the roots and pulling as hard as I can. A growl of frustration rips from my throat. The confusion is too overwhelming, too infuriating.

“What now?” I demand into the silence of my room. “What now? What now—what now?” My voice breaks, my knees buckling as I fall onto my bed and bury my head between my knees. I squeeze as hard as I can, wanting crushing pressure, wanting pain, wanting something to drive all of this away from me.

In one fell swoop, it’s as though I’ve lost everything. My old home. My freedom. My fortune. My easy friendship with Rahk. There is no soothing presence of Mary, no good-natured teasing from my newhusband. No ridiculous antics from Bartholomew. Even the servants I’ve gotten to know here feel like strangers now that I am myself and not young Nat.

I do not know how things can proceed. What do I do, now that I’m married to a fae? The very prince of Nothril I despised so vehemently only a few weeks ago? He’s going to kill me. It doesn’t matter how kind he is to me. It doesn’t matter all the sacrifices he endured to save me from my stepfamily. I am a criminal to him, his people, his court.

“Oh dearie.”

The voice startles me so much I shoot backward in the bed, get tangled up in the sheets, and nearly go flying out the window.

It’s only Charity.

She clucks her tongue at my fright and sets a small tray on my short dresser.

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