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Patrick’s cheeks turn pink; then he takes a drink. I sip some of mine, and as soon as the sweet, hot liquid slips down my throat, I feel a calmness settle over me. My limbs relax, my heart rate slowing.
“Have you given any thought to our betrothal?” Patrick asks.
I swallow hard. “Not really. I don’t think I will be able to think properly until this is all over.” Meeting his gaze, I try to keep my expression apologetic. “I hope that’s all right?”
“Quite,” Patrick replies, though his expression is one of disappointment. “I hope it’s not too forward of me to ask, but do you have feelings for another?”
“I—” I start, my heart telling me I should be honest, my head telling me to keep quiet. We are, after all, at his mercy right now. And should he not like my answer— “It’s complicated,” I reply, walking the line between honesty and mistruth. “My parents truly loved each other, so I suppose I was looking for that type of connection with the man I am to marry.”
“And you do not feel that for me?”
“I don’t,” I say. “I’m sorry.”
He nods, but before he can respond, my vision swims. I grip the table.
“This works fast.”
“It does.” He pushes back. “Get this tea up to her room,” Patrick orders as he helps me to my feet. “Come, Carleah. It is time to rest.” My vision goes black the moment he gathers me into his arms.
* * *
“Wake, my Queen.”
Soft fingers stroke my cheek. I open my eyes, blinking rapidly to clear my vision. The shadowy shape of the Son of Flame swims into view, and I sit up quickly. “What are you—” The room around me comes into focus, and I find myself in the center of my bed in the Soreno castle.
“You are so breathtaking in this light,” he coos, an inky finger stroking over my bare arm. I look down to find myself wearing a thin chemise.
Quickly, I pull the blankets up. My vision swims again, and I try to blink it away. “What are you doing to me?”
“I am doing nothing. It is that tea you drank.”
“The tea?” Then I remember the tray. Patrick carrying me. “Why are you here?”
“I longed to see you. To show you all I can offer.”
“I’ve already told you that I want nothing.”
“You will reconsider.” He pushes off of my bed and begins to pace. “After all, your warrior has dismissed you, has he not?”
I swallow hard. “Fort is trying to keep me safe.”
“Fort is trying to keep you in a cage,” he snaps. “It is I who will let your soul fly the way it is supposed to.”
“And you expect me to accept the promises of a man who refuses to show his face.”
“You truly wish to look upon me?”
“Yes.”
“Then I shall show you. But only if you believe you are truly ready.”
“I am.” Anticipation thrums in my veins, despite my hazy vision and the exhaustion still trying to pull me under.
The black mist around him begins to fade, shifting and solidifying right before my eyes. Until, finally, a man stands before me.
My heart plummets, my mind screaming at me that I should have seen this coming.
“Now do you see me?” he asks. “Do you finally see me?”
