Page 12 of Crownless Heirs

Maelan tilted his head, all innocent curiosity. “Yes, dear wife?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Was this your plan all along?”

His lips twitched, and she knew that look, the amusement he wore when he was proud of himself.

Sorcha folded her arms. “Maelan.”

Sensing her frustration and anger, Maelan drew closer to her. “I knew,” he admitted softly, “that you were important.”

Sorcha avoided his gaze as he spoke.

“I knew,” he continued, “that you were something this world hadn’t seen before. That you were the kind of power that could shift kingdoms, could shatter fate itself. I knew…”

He stepped closer, his thumb brushing over her lips as he lifted her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. “That I would follow you.”

Her pulse thundered in her ears. This was the truth. And suddenly, Sorcha wasn’t sure if she had stepped into a game he had set in motion long ago or if they had both been walking toward this moment from the very beginning.

She exhaled slowly, steadying herself.

Maelan, of course, looked perfectly at ease. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction, amusement, maybe even a hint of triumph.

“Well, Firelight,” he said smoothly, voice laced with that infuriating confidence. “Shall we make an appearance?”

Sorcha blinked. “What?”

“You’re my bride now,” he drawled. “It would be best to introduce you before it comes as a shock when I announce it tomorrow. The court will take it better if they see us together first.”

Sorcha crossed her arms. “So you want to parade me around too?”

His smirk deepened. “Parading you around would be too loud. I prefer introductions. Gently, casually. Let them see you as mine before they hear it as a decree.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You make it sound like a well-crafted manipulation.”

“That’s because it is.”

Sorcha rubbed her temples. “You really had this planned, didn’t you?”

“Not all of it,” Maelan mused. “Just most of it.”

She shot him a look, but he only chuckled.

“Come,” he said, offering his arm in a gentlemanly gesture. “It won’t be so bad. You’ll meet my people, and they’ll adore you.”

Sorcha arched an eyebrow. “That confident, are you?”

He smirked. “Have you met yourself? You’re fascinating, Firelight.”

She glared at him but didn’t argue.

With a reluctant sigh, she placed her hand on his arm. His warmth was steady beneath her touch, reassuring in a way she didn’t want to acknowledge. “All right,” she murmured.

Maelan’s smirk deepened as he led her away from the lake, back toward the glow of the Cait Sidhe kingdom. The city was still alive with revelry, the hum of conversation and music weaving through the streets. As they stepped into the main square, Maelan’s presence alone was enough to turn heads. But Sorcha? Sorcha at his side, her hand resting lightly on his arm, her expression composed, and that was enough to stop people in their tracks. Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Sorcha kept her posture steady, refusing to let their stares unsettle her.

Maelan, ever the performer, leaned in slightly, his voice a teasing whisper. “They’re already enthralled.” And kissed her cheek.

She pinched his arm lightly. “Behave.”

He only grinned. They moved through the mass of people, and Maelan took his time, greeting familiar faces, nodding to warriors and merchants alike. But each introduction followed the same pattern.