Chapter 9
Ours isn’t the most dignified of homecomings. Corbin’s not bothered one bit by his nakedness, being too happy to inhabit his own skin once again to care who saw it.
Every time my mother caught me looking, she chided me. I received innumerable reprimands during that ride. He found this exceedingly entertaining.
“I don’t know what we’ll find when I return to my kingdom,” he says, turning pensive as Montrace Castle’s silhouette comes into view against the dawn sky. “I have nothing to offer you except a dented crown.”
He contemplates the bent gold circle in his hands.
Its ruby glints in the dawning sunlight.
Mum allowed us to sit near one another as long as I gave him my apron in an attempt at modesty.
He should look ridiculous, but the thin scrim only highlights his muscular thighs without concealing what lies between them in the slightest.
“This,” I lean closer to tap the metal. My mother’s cough makes me roll my eyes and sit up again. “Is worth more than I would see in an entire lifetime. Aisendelle Castle could be in ruins and we would still have enough money for the rest of our lives.”
He stares at me for a long moment, and my heart stutters to think I might have said the wrong thing. “I mean, I don’t need the trappings of royalty. I just want you. I wasn’t suggesting it should be melted down or sold. If it’s valuable to you.”
Even though that was what I meant. A crown from a foreign country has no meaning to me. “My world has been so small until you came into it,” I say breathlessly. “I’m not…I don’t even know if you were thinking…”
I trail off, my heart teetering on the precipice of hope. He is a king. I am no one.
“I absolutely was,” he says, bringing his hand to my cheek and stroking the pad of his thumb tenderly along the curve.
“But I have nothing to offer you but myself. Aisendelle has been abandoned for so long that I’m not sure there’s even a country left to rule.
I’ll be starting from scratch, and that’s if the people will accept my reign.
There could be a rebellion. I might be driven out.
Under the circumstances, it would be irresponsible to ask for your hand in marriage. ”
“You don’t even have a ring,” Mum interjects. “Or clothes.”
A shaky chuckle rocks me. “Mother. Quit eavesdropping.”
She beams, unrepentant. Her face is streaked with dirt and soot, her dress torn and filthy with blood from the scratches on her arms, yet she looks happier than I have ever seen her.
“I saw what your mother is capable of back in that forest,” he says, covering my hand with his. Mum’s gaze darts to where we dare to touch, but she turns away when I glare at her. “Strangling a witch with her bare hands? I wouldn’t dream of crossing her.”
“If you only want me out of fear or gratitude, Corbin—”
“I didn’t say that.” He tucks a tendril of hair behind my ear. “I have little to offer you, Rowena Bloom, but I would be the happiest man in the world if you do me the honor of becoming my wife.”
“Yes.” The answer is on my lips before the final syllable leaves his. “Yourself is enough. More than enough. You’re strong and resilient. You aren’t that callous boy who tripped an old woman in a market to get a girl’s attention. I can hardly believe that was the same person.”
“You might, once you get to know me,” he says a little despondently.
“Then you should know that I’m a murderer,” I blurt out. Corbin’s eyes flare wide with shock. “That’s right. I told you about it once. Are you sure you want a queen who accidentally killed a man?”
He cups the back of my head and says, “How else would you protect me from fae witches?”
I laugh. Our lips meet with aching sweetness, setting my body aflame with need.
This time, Mum doesn’t interrupt us.
While our wounds were tended by proper healers with real magic, and waiting for my dress to be made—I would have married him in rags and he without a stitch of clothing on, but my mother and the king and queen of Montrace insisted we observe formalities—Corbin and I have a chance to get to court one another properly.
Or rather, improperly, for he is absolutely vicious in his flirtations.
There are stolen kisses on balconies and in hallways.
Whispered innuendo at moments perfectly timed to make me blush in front of everyone watching—and we are constantly watched.
When dancing, his hand slides ever-so-slightly too low on my back. Combined with the scandalous things he whispers in my ear, my sides always ache from laughter.
We plan to spend a single night here at Montrace Castle after the ceremony before setting out for Aisendelle, Corbin’s home country.
I take the opportunity to study my new homeland.
Few would consider this region much of a prize.
It’s widely considered a backwater, sparsely populated by farmers and shepherds.
In the absence of their monarch, the hardy, pragmatic people of Aisendelle have muddled on with raising sheep and growing crops.
Trade with the other Realms is sporadic; the people, I hear, are independent and hardy.
I think it’s perfect. Especially for a nobody like me. Again, I reflect that Gwen is far braver than I—although she was raised here in Montrace Castle, a servant in the dowager queen’s kitchens. She had some context for how to behave as royalty. I don’t.
Gwen says to be myself.
Corbin tells me the same thing.
I’m trying to believe that I am enough.
“You said you didn’t need a title. I hope you meant it,” he says, staring at the map. A strand of dark hair curtains his eyes. I brush it back.
“It’s difficult to imagine how such a modest country produced an arrogant prat like you,” I tease Corbin as we review our itinerary.
“Arrogance isn’t the only thing I’m full of,” Corbin says, stroking my back as I bend over the map depicting the path to my new life.
Lust ignites between my thighs when his gaze falls to the swells of my breasts.
I finally know what color they are. Deep amber with a velvety brown ring around the rim.
I could drown in those golden depths. They darken into a shade of burnt sugar. A thrill courses down my spine.
There are times when all of this still feels like a dream. Like now, when I swear I see the outline of a raven with its wings raised in flight at the center of those depths. He blinks, the shuttering of his lashes, and the unsettling image is gone.
He snares me around the waist, tugging me firmly against his chest. I brace my hands in mock protest. His repaired crown slides forward.
I pluck it from his head and place it on my own.
He holds me at arm’s length and examines me.
“You make a lovely princess. It suits you much better than a country healer.”
“I’m not royalty,” I remind him.
“Yet.” He tugs me closer and kisses my scarred cheek.
The witch’s sharp claws left visible marks despite the healer’s best efforts.
Corbin knows I’m self-conscious about them.
He reminds me that he carries scars too, though his are hidden beneath his clothes.
His lips move to mine, teasing me in return for my smart remarks.
Tracing the seam of my lips. When I open to him, he presses the advantage.
“Ahem.”
We break the kiss with mutual sighs.
“You can wait a few more days to consummate the marriage,” Mum says, giving me a censorious look. “You’ve made it this far.”
“Mum, we were only kissing.”
“Which leads to other things,” she says tartly. “I was young once, too, you know.”
I roll my eyes. Corbin smirks at my childish gesture.
“I wouldn’t dream of dishonoring your daughter,” he says. I pout.
“What does a week matter?” I feel like I’m going to explode from frustration.
Naturally, my Raven King finds this flattering to his already-inflated ego.
If he wasn’t just as anxious for our wedding day—and night—I might have reservations about anticipating our vows, but he leaves no doubt of his desire.
“One of us has to maintain your virtue,” he murmurs low in my ear. “Considering your weakness in the face of irresistible temptation, I suppose it’s going to have to be me.”
I swat his bicep. He heaves a dramatic sigh and bows to Mum, whose eyes twinkle with delight, belying her attempt at seriousness.
The ceremony itself is surreal. A month ago I could never have imagined I would be here.
I was still a village healer whom no one trusted to actually treat their ailments.
I was alone, whereas today, I am surrounded by new friends.
I wear an ivory gown embroidered with lace subtly depicting feathers.
By far the most beautiful dress I have ever owned.
We speak our vows beneath a canopy of autumn-hued foliage and late-blooming prairie roses, a peasant’s version that’s a different flower entirely.
I could have chosen real ones from Gwen’s garden, but I wanted this symbol of my humble origins.
I am marrying a king, yet no one knows what we’ll find when we return to Corbin’s castle.
We could be living among broken rocks for a long time while repairs are being made.
After the banquet and dancing, Corbin spins me close and says, “We’ve given them enough of a show, don’t you think?”
Suddenly shy, I can only nod. Anticipation races hot through my veins. My new husband scoops me into his arms and carries me away from the celebration.
“That was a dramatic exit.” I lay one arm across his shoulders and lean close. He carries me easily, the same way he did from the witch’s glen. The way he held me when the witch’s magic was weakening and we flew through the dreamscape.
“I promise you they hardly noticed our departure.”
“Is that why there was applause?”
“They don’t need us around. We’re only the excuse for their party.” He touches his forehead to mine. “We have our own private celebration.”