Page 45 of Fallen Court

“You’re thinking,” he accused.

I watched as several of his tattoos appeared, scrawling themselves down his neck and over his shoulder. “So are you.” I sucked in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I’ll start. Confession or question?”

“Confession?” he repeated with immediate concern. “I think we should start there.”

“Are you sure?” I asked weakly.

“I am now.” He untangled his limbs from mine and sat up.

He loved me, and even though I was new to this, something told me that wouldn’t change—even after he learned the truth. I closed my eyes and blurted it out before I lost my nerve. “Oberon handfasted me.”

I waited for the explosion—bracing for him to nip to the Hallow Court and add another death mark for the Wild Hunt to collect.

“No, he didn’t.”

Maybe it was the utter calm in his voice or perhaps it was my surprise, but I found myself scrambling to sit up, too. I tucked my legs under me and stared at him. “He did. We’re handfasted or married or whatever. That’s all, though. He never laid a finger on me,” I added quickly when Lach’s face darkened. I didn’t want to consider what might have happened if the witches hadn’t secretly conspired against him—if the wedding had been real. “Obviously, it means nothing to me.”

But he shook his head. “You aren’t married. You can’t be.”

So, he was in denial, which might be a good thing. At least it would delay the inevitable violence. “Look, it happened. He handfasted me and said we were married. I was there and—”

“You can’t be married to him.” He cut me off but stopped short, his forehead creasing. Every tattoo on his body, save for the four symbols inked over his heart, fled and swirled.

Suspicion seeped through me. “What do you mean by that?”

He considered for a moment. “I need you to hear me out before you freak.”

“Freak?” My voice pitched on the word. “What’s going on, Gage?”

He winced slightly at the use of his surname. “You can’t be married to him, because…”

I waited for him to finish that sentence, my heart straining against the cage of my ribs.

Because he didn’t want me to be? Because it meant even more trouble? Because I belonged to him?

“Finish that thought,” I said through gritted teeth.

He closed his eyes briefly, and when he opened them, a new tattoo appeared, snaking in ribbons around his left hand and wrist. I’d never seen it before. “You can’t be married to him because you’re already married to me.”

I rocketed to my feet so quickly that I nearly tripped over the books still lying on the ground. I fought to stay upright as I processed what he was saying. “We are not married!”

“Shortest honeymoon ever,” he muttered.

Understatement of the year.

Chapter Twelve

Lach

I had outlived nearly every soul marked by the Wild Hunt. I was still breathing despite walking into the territory of two other courts without an invitation. But whatever fortune had kept me alive this long wanted no part of Cate’s anger.

“Let’s talk.” I pointed to a nearby chair, offering her my most tempting smile. “Sit.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not a dog.”

At least things still felt familiar between us.

Cate squatted to grab her dress, nearly tripping as she slipped it on. And now she was putting clothes on—the last thing I wanted after being torn apart for nearly a week. She continued to pace the room as she zipped it. I knew better than to stop her. Her spirit was what I loved most about her. It also made her slightly terrifying, and right now, she looked very…spirited.