Chapter Ten
VIOLET
As it turns out, the marital chambers are his personal apartments. His belongings are arranged comfortably, as if he’s long lived here, rather than newly settled.
A few lit candles situated around the room add just enough light to see. I take in the space, only to freeze when I see through the open doorway his bed with the covers pulled back, ready for us.
I turn and cross to a bookshelf that spans from floor to ceiling in the study opposite the bedroom and try to think of anything else.
Recalling the shadows on the third-floor balcony, I could have sworn I saw the tall figure of a man bow. It’s entirely possible it was an illusion caused by the flicker of light passing through crystals.
The prince stalks up behind me. “Does my word mean so little that you still believe I would force myself on you?” The ice coating his words belies hurt.
I face him. “That’s not it at all.”
“Then why are you suddenly afraid?”
Demons take me. The last thing I want to do is explain my thoughts, but I can’t risk offending him.
“It’s not fear,” I start.
“Then what?”
“I know you won’t do anything untoward—you didn’t even kiss me earlier.
It’s just…” I trail off, looking down to hide my face.
“I couldn’t help thinking how everyone must be certain of what intimate acts will pass between us—and that is a lot of people thinking of something so personal,” I finish in a barely audible whisper.
Joon is silent and motionless for a long moment. Then, a low chuckle rumbles from his chest.
My head snaps up, and I gape. This is funny to him?
“Never mind what they may or may not think. I am sure you have questions. You may ask freely,” he says.
“Was a kiss part of the ceremony?”
“It was,” he says slowly.
“Won’t that make it impossible to use the fae paths when I am with you?”
He shakes his head. “In this case, it was unnecessary. We were bound the night we made our bargain.”
The prince holds up his hand, indicating the invisible thread around our fingers that binds our fates.
I use this as my chance to change the topic instead of delving deeper into the subjects of kisses and intimacy with the prince. “So, what exactly is it I must do to fulfill my obligation?”
Joon breathes out a long breath. “Before I answer that, tell me something. How did the book come to be in your possession?”
Demon shit.
“I… found it.”
Joon blinks in disbelief. “You expect me to believe that you just so happened to stumble across one of the forbidden fae texts in your little human city that managed to escape the notice of every other human for centuries?”
“I suppose not.” Telling him would endanger the lives of people I love—and I refuse to do that when I very much doubt he will extend the same mercy to them that he has shown me.
“I can’t say. Please don’t make me,” I plead. “Can it be enough that I returned it to you?”
He must sense my desperation because the hard lines of his face relax. Then a sinister glint flashes in his eyes. The scar cutting down through one appears paler than usual, enhancing the ominous feeling that I am about to pay for this concession.
He moves in close enough for his proximity to distract me. “Have you figured out why I agreed to bargain with you yet?”
“Because I asked you to?”
He smirks.
At least I amuse him.
“If I were to ingest the tea, it would grant a temporary, minor increase to my power. Which would be a terrible waste of such a rare specimen.”
The steady rhythm of my heart picks up as if it senses something my mind has yet to fully grasp.
“That unassuming little flower needs a mortal life force to thrive. Its power multiplies until it eventually becomes more than your human body can withstand.”
Dark spots dance before my eyes. By trying to prolong my life, I guaranteed the opposite.
“To make proper use of it, the human possessing the frost bloom’s power must remain close to me. What better way to do that than taking that human my wife? So, you see, by correctly preparing the tea and consuming it, you sealed your fate.”
The blood drains from my face, leaving me dizzy. I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again, then press my lips into a tight line.
“Fret not, Wife. The effects of the frost bloom last only until the next is ready for harvest,” he says, answering a question I hadn’t thought to ask.
“That is where our bargain comes into play. Since the power I need is inside you.” His brilliant blue gaze flicks to my lips. “You are to act as a vessel for it.”
This means I am the only one who can help him. He’d had every intention of accepting my bargain from the beginning or perhaps even offering one to me.
“H-how do I do that?”
“You are already doing it. Our relationship is a symbiotic one.”
I frown, waiting for him to give me the final piece of the puzzle.
“To prevent a fatal buildup of power, I must siphon it for my own.” Joon shifts closer. “Which is done with a kiss.”
I hold my breath.
“For this to work, you must be willing.”
The air trapped in my lungs escapes in a long exhale.
“Why a kiss?”
“Magic is intimate. To share it with another requires a personal price—physical intimacy, blood, or pain, it does not matter which. I assumed this would be the least objectionable choice. However, we can do any of the other options if you prefer.”
If this is what it takes to stay alive and honor my obligation, then it is far from the worst thing imaginable.
Joon is handsome, so it would hardly be a burden.
Disconcertingly, kissing him is not the unpleasant notion it should be.
When he’s this close, he has a way of pulling me into his gravity.
I place my hands on his shoulders to steady myself as I rise onto my toes and lean in.
His fingers press against my lips, stopping me.
I flatten my feet and frown up at him, a protest ready on my tongue.
“Willingly.”
If it brings us closer to getting what we both want, then I am willing.
“It is not willing if you feel there is no other choice,” he says before I can speak. “You must want to.”
Wanting to kiss him? Is he implying that there needs to be a deeper emotional connection, more than simple attraction?
He… he couldn’t possibly be asking me to care for him… could he?
“But I…”
“While your enthusiasm is appreciated, I will not impose on you more than necessary.” Joon steps back. “It is best to wait for the power to accumulate, or until necessary.”
There’s a knock on the door as our conversation comes to an end.
“Enter,” he calls over his shoulder without taking his eyes off me.
The door slides open, and an older man steps inside and bows deeply. He wears simple robes made of undyed material and a thick purple sash knotted around his waist with the ends tied off to the side of one hip, dangling almost to his ankle.
“Your evening meal, Your Highness.”
Joon waves him in, and the man gestures to others waiting in the hall.
Servants with trays enter, careful to keep their heads lowered as if they are afraid to look in the prince’s general direction. Their robes are the same as the first, but their sashes stop midway between the hip and knee.
In moments, plates upon plates of food fill the entire surface of the table with far more food than either of us could eat. They move efficiently, laying out the food. They are gone as quickly as they arrived.
The prince and I wordlessly take our places across from each other. During our first meal together, I waited for him to begin. I do the same this time. Better to enforce the habit early, even if it’s awkward.
I watch the prince pluck bite-sized portions from several dishes and set them on his plate. Each movement is smooth and practiced like a choreographed dance that lacks emotion. Almost as if he is going through the necessary motions to stay alive out of habit.
What must his life be like that even the slightest gesture is done to perfection without thought, where there is no room for even the slightest mistake with something as simple as eating a meal?
He takes a bite of thinly sliced meat and chews. His face is an expressionless mask, as if the food is bland and tasteless.
Colorful vegetables, steaming balls of stuffed dough, and grilled meats. The food is mouthwatering in its array of colors and savory aromas. I can’t imagine being anything less delicious than the way it smells.
Deciding where to start is difficult. I choose randomly from the options nearest to me, generously filling my plate.
I pop a piece of meat into my mouth and barely suppress an unladylike groan. It’s cooked to perfection. Juicy with a slight crisp on the outside. I quickly move on to the next item, then the next, and the next. Each is as delicious as the last.
I must have been too nervous to really taste last night’s dinner because everything tastes better than I remember.
Determined to at least sample everything, I quickly clear my plate. As I reach for more, I catch the prince watching me with the barest hint of a smirk playing on his lips.
My hand stills midair over the food. Feeling uncertain, I slowly retract my arm and clasp my hands in my lap.
“Please,”—he gestures to my plate—“continue. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anyone enjoy eating quite this much.”
Hesitantly, I help myself to more. I chew each bite slowly, feeling the full weight of the prince’s attention on me from across the table.
He seems more curious than intimidating. Still, I find him distracting. I shift in my seat. The prince must notice because he looks away and busies himself with his own plate and sipping his tea.
Eventually, I sit back, unable to eat another bite without becoming uncomfortably full. There is still enough food left to easily feed another five or six people.
“I must leave to take care of a few pressing matters. I will send for Iseul and have her escort you to your quarters in the Southern Court.”