Bride of Ashes (Kingdom of Shadow and Ruin #1)

10. Merrick

10

MERRICK

I couldn’t wait to meet my bride. Where should I speak with her for the first time? I straightened my too-formal tunic and studied myself in the mirror to make sure I didn’t have lint clinging to my dark pants or shirt. None that I could see. My tunic had just the right number of adornments, enough to show the world who I was but not so many that I came across foppish.

I didn’t have Lorant’s sharpness, his cutting wit, or his dangerous appeal, but I could offer kindness, caring, and, if my new bride wanted, love.

Please, love.

My parents had hated each other, though I’d heard that hadn’t always been the case. It was only after she’d settled into Evergorne Court with all its secrets that hatred for him sprouted in her heart .

I’d do my best to make sure my bride didn’t hate me. And if . . .

I took in my appearance as she might see me. Nearly black hair some would say was a touch too long, but I preferred it that way. A sharp jawline. In that, Lorant and I were much alike, though he bore the scars from when he was young, while my skin remained smooth. We had the same deep green eyes, but that was expected. Some things bred true.

The broadness of my shoulders and chest reflected my almost constant training, as did my narrow waist and hips. I had my father’s height, and I towered above most of the lords in my kingdom. I wasn’t sure what personality traits I’d received from my mother. Hatred for my father had burned whatever kindness she might’ve had when she was young away.

I smoothed my hair. Should I pull it back at my nape?

My gold diadem might add to my appearance or make me look pretentious, so I left it on the bureau.

It was time. Past time. Not enough time. My future rushed toward me in a blur, and there was nothing I could do but stretch out my arms and accept it.

With that, I left my suite and took the stairs two at a time to the deck, bursting out into the sunshine and a day full of promise. The crew called out in greeting when they saw me, and Captain Christoff bustled down from the wheelhouse and strode over to meet up with me, his shoes clicking on the oiled wooden surface.

“Good morning.” He bowed deeply. “Another wonderful day, my king. ”

“It is.” I glanced around “Where is she?”

“She was here earlier but left. Lord Briscalar should have her on deck again soon. Would you like me to send one of the men down to collect her?”

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll wait for her here.”

“If it’s not presumptuous of me to say, my king, you should not wait for her but the other way around.”

I grinned. There were few I could be myself with. Lorant first. My mother—sometimes and with great care. And the crew of this ship. When I was young, I’d longed to escape. I’d sneak from the castle and rush to the harbor, where I’d board the ship and beg this man to take me away from it all, something I’d needed after my father sat me down and explained all that awaited me. We’d sail along the shore for a day and return before night. Only during those brief escapes had the oppressive weight of my future stopped crushing my soul. When I was really young, I pretended I was a pirate captain looking for a likely town to pillage. When I was older, this was the only place where I could be myself.

“I’ll return to my work, then,” Captain Christoff said with another bow. “If you need me for anything at all, you know where to find me.”

At my nod, he left, returning to take control of the ship.

I walked to the side of the ship and stood there, my hands tight on the wooden rail, and my heart thudding faster than it should.

A sound behind me made me turn, and the world stopped.

I stopped.

My heart thudded once, twice, before racing .

“Reyla,” I breathed.

She wore the cream-colored gown I’d crafted for her. It hugged her slender curves, as it should, since I’d magically enhanced the fabric to fit. It made her fair skin glow. I loved how it dipped down in the front in a way that was both demure yet alluring, hinting at full breasts and perfectly sculpted shoulders.

Her hair . . . I couldn’t drag my eyes away from her hair arranged delicately on her head while leaving a few soft curls dangling. The wind captured those strands and set them free in the color of a ripe sunset. The fresh blush of a new dawn.

She stood watching me as intently as I did her, with Lord Briscalar fluttering behind her, straightening the back of her skirt before he stepped away to leave only her, this wondrous, lovely woman in view.

The world muted, sounds stilling. Even the rush of the wind paused.

How could this stranger feel familiar yet completely new? Unspoken recognition wrapped its fist around my heart and squeezed tight. This wasn’t lightning or the burst of a flame; it was gravity pulling all parts of me toward this perfect woman.

This moment would echo through me until the day I died, and I accepted that this was how it should be. How it was meant to be.

Leaving the rail, I strode toward her, the warmth in her eyes a tangible thing as she took in my appearance that perhaps just might be enough. I stopped in front of her, gazing down at her, admiring how petite she was.

“Reyla,” I rasped, wishing I could borrow some of Lorant’s cutting edges and smooth style. But that was him, not me, and what I was would have to be enough or everything would be lost.

A pretty smile curled her pink lips, and I could stare at her mouth forever. “You must be my husband, King Merrick.”

Wife. My wife.

This woman was the one I’d been searching for. When the knowledge surged inside me, it wasn’t dramatic or overwhelming, but it filled me with a quiet assurance.

There would be no future for me without her.

I dipped forward in a bow. “Call me Merrick, please.”

“Reyla for me. I’m . . .” I wanted to kiss her pink cheeks. The flush on her chest. Everything. “I don’t have a lot of names like you do.”

“We only need one with each other, right?” My lips curved up on one side, and I drank in the admiration in her eyes. Our first meeting gave me hope.

Her face loosened, making me realize she’d been as tense about this as me. “You’re right.”

I held out my hand to take hers, planning to kiss the back like a king should when he met his bride for the very first time.

When she placed her fingers on my palm, heat seared across my skin, branding me as hers and her as mine. Because a mating mark would ensure her certain death, I covered it with magic, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

Her gaze met mine, and I couldn’t tell her thoughts, but her attention remained on my face, not my hand still clutching hers. As I’d intended, I kissed the back, more reverently than I’d planned .

“Well,” I said, straightening while meshing my fingers with hers. “That was unexpected.”