“Your gaze darted to the glass, Emilia. I simply read your body language.”
I watched him pace, my mind spinning with each of his revolutions around the room. His actions were all starting to make sense. He hadn’t let me die from the elements because I was his future bride. It was also why he’d stayed with me in the Sin Corridor, though Anir said he shouldn’t have. Another memory came back to me. In Palermo, Anir had mentioned completing the marriage bond and securing his House, something about gaining full power. When he’d come to collect me in the cave, I’d noticed a shift in his power. It had felt infinite. Stronger.
Wrath may have some feelings or physical attraction for me, but, given his nature, I wondered if he’d acted partly out of self-preservation.
“Do your subjects know?”
“Yes. The whole realm is aware.”
Which was why he’d made such a public example of Lord Makaden. The noble hadn’t simply disobeyed a royal command; he’d challenged Wrath and insulted his soon-to-be wife. The same was true for the officer he’d brought the mountain down on; he’d threatened to kill the princess of House Wrath. If either of them harmed me, it would in turn diminish Wrath’s power to some degree. I knew precisely how much princes of Hell coveted power.
Enough to bind themselves to someone they may enjoy between their sheets on occasion, but would never truly love. For eternity.
Well suited enough.
The choice of words grated on me. He also hadn’t denied there was someone else in his life. Someone he’d chosen before I destroyed his world.
“I invited you to bed tonight.” My voice was low, but not meek. Wrath stopped pacing and his heavy gaze clashed with mine. My attention roved over his face. “Would you have told me any of this before we slept together?”
“No matter how tempting, I would not have consummated our marriage tonight. There are plenty of ways to give and receive pleasure that would not jeopardize your free will.”
“Is that the truth? Or just what you think I wish to hear?”
He stared at me, his jaw tightening. The temperature around us chilled a few degrees. I half-expected the castle’s foundation to shake. “What kind of monster do you believe me to be?”
I had no good answer. And until I did… I drew in a deep breath, thinking over my options. Wrath had mentioned a few of his brothers were interested in hosting me at their Houses. Perhaps it was time for a visit.
“I want you to escort me to House Envy in the morning. Will you send a note letting him know I accept his invitation?”
Wrath didn’t react for a long moment; he looked like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard me correctly. He stared so hard I started to worry he could see through flesh and bone straight into my soul. I kept my expression bland and forced thoughts of tranquility: collecting shells by the sea, laughing with my sister and Claudia, drinking wine and talking about simple things.
Anything to keep my emotions from betraying me.
He finally nodded. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious from the way he’d tensed up at the request, but he also wasn’t trying to stop or imprison me.
I was not his cosseted princess. Thus far, my choices remained my own.
“You’re certain that’s what you want? Even after what Envy did?”
“Yes.” I thought about my next request. “I also need a mending kit.”
“You don’t need to sew your own clothing anymore, Emilia. A seamstress can do that.”
“All the same, I’d like one for emergencies.”
“Very well. I’ll have one sent to your room and let my brother know tonight. Will that be all?”
“For now.”
“Come.” He offered his hand, his voice and expression both genial enough to make me wary as I stepped closer. I ignored the little spark that passed between us when his fingers closed around mine. If he felt it, too, he didn’t let on. “I’ll take you to your chamber to pack. We’ll leave for House Envy at first light.”
FOURTEEN
Wrath made one small, seemingly innocuous request of his own before leaving me to pack a trunk for my visit. He’d asked to have a gown sent in the morning, one in which it was appropriate to be received by a prince of Hell. Regardless of any ulterior motives, of which I was certain he had many, I’d decided there was little harm in granting his wish and quickly agreed.
I told myself my swift acceptance had nothing to do with the fact my betrothed was in my private suite, standing shirtless near my bed, looking like he was carved from the very essence of temptation itself. He kept a careful distance, almost painfully so, but there wasn’t anything he could do to dampen my awareness of him. The space between us seemed to vibrate with both tension and anticipation. I wasn’t sure if it was only coming from me, or if he felt it, too. He’d retreated back to the enigmatic prince who was cordial, but otherwise difficult to read.
I was not nearly as calm. My emotions were still aflutter after learning the truth, and I had every right to tuck myself safely in denial until I sorted through them. Far away from the prince.
The twinkle of mirth finally broke into his cool features as I ushered him out of my rooms and practically shut the door on his heels. I leaned my head against the wall and exhaled. An hour earlier I’d felt much differently. I couldn’t get him into my bed fast enough.
I slammed the memory of our romantic encounter outside his rooms from my mind. Recalling the pleasant sensation of his hands stroking and exploring would do nothing to clear my head.
“What a nightmare.”
I rushed into my bathing chamber to splash water on my face and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, immediately understanding his amused reaction. My dark eyes were wide and wild, my hair unruly from our earlier dip into trouble, and my skin was flushed as if some torturous fever had overtaken me. I was an untamed, frenzied mess on the inside and it was shining through to the outside. Certainly not the ideal reaction to matrimony to boost any male ego or confidence. Though it wasn’t as if Wrath lacked in either of those areas.
My gaze snagged on my amulet, briefly wrenching me from thoughts of husbands and wives and unbreakable magical bonds. Given Envy’s reaction to the Horn of Hades last time, I wanted the necklace far away from him. I refused to take any careless chances by parading it under his nose while staying in his royal House.
I took it off and placed it at the bottom of my vanity drawer. I’d let Wrath know where to find it in the morning. As I closed the drawer, I noticed something that hadn’t been present earlier: a silver hand mirror and matching brush and comb were placed atop the table.
They appeared sometime after I’d cleaned up from Lord Makaden’s blood and now. I admired the detailed etching, marveling at the craftsmanship. Another beautiful—and thoughtful—gift from my future husband. I sighed. If Wrath started wooing me, I wasn’t sure I’d recall all the reasons we weren’t a proper match. Of which there were many.
First, he was a prince of Hell, a mortal enemy to witches. Next, he was secretive and did not trust me any more than I trusted him with full disclosure. He also might feel lust around me, but that did not equal love. I wanted a true partner, an equal and confidant. Wrath would always hold his proverbial cards close, and I wasn’t sure he’d ever deal me in. Given the tenuous nature of our current relationship, I might never fully include him in my plans, either.