my hands over the soft, flowing fabric. It hangs all the way down to the floor, covering the hideous scars on my ankles, but the toes of my golden sandals poke out as I walk.
“It suits you. You look like a fae.” He takes another step closer until he’s within touching distance. His voice has deepened, and when I glance up, I see his eyes have heated, making the bond in my chest flip in pleasure. Flashes of memory from yesterday assault me, of before Tor arrived and how close we were to sealing the bond between us.
Reaching up to touch my rounded ears, I feel a flash of uncertainty. “Not fae enough.” My words are quiet as I think of the queen. I could be full fae, but she would always hate me because of my connection with the humans.
Not to mention how close you are to Vaeril, she’s jealous, my inner monologue points out, but I think there’s more to it than her wanting him romantically. In her head, Vaeril belongs to her, but he was taken by the humans, and then when he returned, human in tow, he was different, no longer the Vaeril who belonged to her completely.
“I see the servants have heard about your fae heritage,” he comments lightly, his light touch brushing the gold leaves in my hair before tapping on the golden band at my wrist.
“I don’t understand,” I say breathlessly, his slight touch awakening something within me.
“The leaves,” he explains, watching my face carefully. His supernatural hearing picked up on the hitch in my voice and the quickening of my breath. “You’re part wood elf,” he reminds me. “They’re making their claim on you.”
His comment takes me by surprise, and I turn back to look at myself in the mirror. The idea that the wood elves are claiming me in some way, that I could belong somewhere… Don’t get ahead of yourself, I chide, trying to calm my racing thoughts. You’ve not even met them yet. Just because they dressed you in golden leaves doesn’t mean they’ve accepted you. Regardless, I can’t dampen the small spark of hope that has nestled its way into my heart.
“You didn’t request for this?” I ask, watching him in the mirror as he moves behind me, the atmosphere in the room becoming heavy. He positions himself just behind me. I watch as he slowly raises his hand and touches my shoulder, lightly stroking down my arm until it comes to rest on the bangle. Leaning forward over my shoulder, he brings his face to the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply before placing a gentle kiss against my pulse point. My body feels alive, every nerve ending tingling where he touches me.
“The bangles, yes, but not the carvings or headpiece,” he mumbles against my neck, the vibrations of his voice make my eyes close in bliss as his lips brush against the delicate skin there.
“It could just be a coincidence.” Even I don’t sound convinced as I speak, just enjoying the feel of him so close. Since we’ve arrived, other than when Tor came, we’ve not had any time alone to explore this bond he claims is between us. I believe him, I do have a connection with him, but I also feel a connection with two others.
“Hmm,” he hums noncommittally. The hand on my arm drops, and I feel him step away, but not before he threads his fingers with mine. “Are you ready?”
Slowly, I open my eyes, still clinging onto the feel of his body pressed against me and the heat of his skin against mine. Spotting myself in the mirror again, I can’t help but think once again how different I seem—cheeks flushed and eyes heavy with desire, I look like a different woman altogether.
“Yes.” Turning from the mirror, I notice he’s still watching me with a satisfied smile on his handsome features. He’s still holding my hand, and with a gentle tug, he pulls me towards him, offering his arm to me as I press up against his side. “Will you tell me what’s going on? Why are we dressed up?”
The maids hadn’t answered me when I asked them earlier, whether they didn’t know the answer or were told not to tell me, I don’t know, but I can’t help the nerves that have settled in my stomach. Every time I was dressed up in Arhaven, something awful happened, and I still have nightmares of the faces of the women who were