Page 91 of How to Claim A Shadow King

The whole place smells incredible—a mix of damp pine, woodsmoke, and the heavy, sweet scent of caramelized sugar emanating from Piper’s bakery.

Sprites buzzing around the iron lampposts, dragging strings of white winter ivy through the air, while a couple of minotaurs are arguing in the corner about where to stack the extra banquet tables.

If my mother could see me right now, standing in a puddle of mud while a mythical beast hoists four oak tables at once, she would probably faint. It would be a very elegant swoon, but a swoon nonetheless.

I smirk.

"Open up," Piper commands, appearing out of nowhere and shoving a fork under my nose. The fork is loaded with a dense, pale yellow cake covered in a massive swirl of lavender frosting. "It’s lemon-honey. Tell me it doesn't taste like soap. Wren said it tasted like soap, but I suspect her palate is dead from inhaling metal shavings.”

I would be an idiot to refuse, so I take the bite. The flavor immediately explodes on my tongue. I close my eyes, savoring it before swallowing.

Piper watches me expectantly, Velvet at her side.

"Piper, it's perfect. If Wren tells you this tastes like soap, I’ll have her banished from the reception."

"See? I told you," Ga’Rek rumbles, stepping up behind her. The warrior orc slides a arm around Piper’s waist, leaning down to nuzzle his face against her hair.

Back in Stormspire, public affection was a polite nod across a ballroom. Here, a terrifying eight-foot warrior is cuddling a baker out in the town square for anyone to see, and it is doing ridiculous things to my heart.

"She has excellent taste," a low voice murmurs right against my ear.

Before I can even react, a pair of arms wrap securely around my waist from behind. Malakai pulls me back against his chest, instantly blocking out the chilly afternoon breeze with his body heat.

He has completely dropped the terrifying, aloof King of Shadows act today. He’s just... there. Solid, quiet, and holding onto me like he still can't quite believe I'm letting him hold me in front of people.

I’ve decided I quite like his displays of affection.

He’s basically turned into an additional shadow over the last few days. I should probably tell him to give me some space, but… my hands are cold and he’s warm.

"You're getting mud on my cloak," I tell him, though I lean back against his shoulder anyway.

"I'll buy you a new one," he whispers, his dark eyes fixed on me with an intense look that makes my heart skip.

He hooks two fingers under my chin, tilts my face up, and kisses me right there in the middle of the street. It’s a gentle, sweet kiss, and he completely ignores the fact that half the coven is watching us… and cheering.

We pull away to boos, and Malakai winks at me. “You taste like honey.”

“I thought you should try our wedding cake, too.”

Wren Tiersen walks past, carrying a massive length of cream-colored silk and looking entirely stressed out. "If you two are done making out in the streets, I need to know if these banners look centered."

Behind her, Caelan dutifully lugs a wooden ladder, looking like he would gladly jump off a cliff if she asked him to nicely. "They look perfect to me, love," he offers.

"I didn't ask you, Caelan. You're biased because you want to get paid in kisses," Wren grins. "Have you seen Willow? She was supposed to be handling the archway."

"I'm right here," Willow calls out from near the fountain. She steps around a wooden wagon, her long hair messy and full of tiny blue wildflowers. Her hands are glowing with a soft green light as she coaxes a massive cluster of briars to bloom into white winter roses right along the stone. Her elf mate is right behind her, his hand resting gently against her lower back, watching her work with genuine awe.

"Thank you, Willow," I say, a sudden wave of gratitude washing over me.

Just a week ago, I was completely alone, waiting to be traded away to some old lord.

Now, I’m standing here with a coven of women who actually care if I'm happy, surrounded by people who are building a festival just for me. For us, for me and Malakai. It’s overwhelming, and beautiful, and all too rare.

But for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I have to pretend to be something I’m not.

I’m just Aveline.

My gaze drifts past the fountain, landing on the eastern alleyway, and the sweet moment immediately ends.