Page 65 of Vow to Claim You

I sink onto the edge of the bed, fingers trailing the embroidered duvet, when a knock comes soft against the door. It cracks open before I answer, just wide enough for a familiar face to slip through.

“Can I?”

“Always.”

Naomi steps in and eases the door shut. She looks exactly the same. Dark brown hair spilling past her shoulders, hazel eyes brighter than mine have ever been. Father’s coloring, Mother’s temperament. The lucky half of each.

“I missed you.” She gives me that sheepish little smile.

Something in my chest unclenches for the first time since I landed. “I missed you too.”

“So. Is the big scary husband keeping you entertained?”

I huff a laugh. “Scary’s a strong word.”

“Mom thinks it fits.”

“Mom sees monsters in the cutlery.”

We both laugh, though it fades too fast, and her hands start that anxious twist in her lap I’ve known since we were small.

“Out with it,” I say.

“It’s nothing. I⁠—”

“Naomi.”

Her breath leaves in a thin stream. “I think they’re arranging something.”

The warmth drains out of me like a plug pulled loose.

“What kind of something?”

Her eyes lift to mine, careful, like the words might cut us both on the way out.

“A marriage.”

For one ridiculous second, I’m sure I misheard. Then the cold floods in behind my ribs and settles, and I know I didn’t.

“You’re barely eighteen.” My voice has already sharpened to a blade. “You’ve been an adult for all of five minutes.”

She nods, eyes glazing. “I heard Father with Uncle Sofiane yesterday talking about a new alliance.”

Of course. Could’ve expected that. My father sees his daughters the way other men see land—what it’s worth or who he can trade it to.

“No.” Anger flares through me. “No,” I repeat, gentler, taking her hands to still them. “That is not happening.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I can.”

Because Father swore to me—swore—that Naomi would stay out of it. That was my price. The one condition I bled out of him before I’d put my name on that contract: my life for the alliance, and my sister left her own.

And he’s already breaking it.

I pull her into me before the fury can reach my face. She folds in instantly, the way she used to when storms rattled the palace windows and she’d climb into my bed, certain I could keep the thunder out.

“I won’t let them do this to you,” I murmur into her hair. “I’ll handle it.”