Chapter 35
Lilias
YOU DO IT
There’s no way this is going to work.
But the alternative, calling Anura in to help me and having to explain why my husband wants me to wear a dagger to a festival, is just too humiliating to contemplate, so I take the damned dagger and the strange leather straps, put my leg up on a chair, and spend a long time huffing and grunting as I attempt to bend over far enough to wrap the straps around my own thigh.
Next to me, Zarek looks like he’s trying not to laugh. Part of me wants to smack him. Another strangely insistent part of me wants him to put his hand back in my pocket, to feel the warm press of his fingers against my thigh—
“Shit,” I finally hiss under my breath.
I stand back up, panting and mad at the entire world. This dress is actually fairly comfortable if I’m standing up or sitting down, but the corset absolutely will not allow me to bend over like a pretzel.
It took Anura and me almost an hour to finish lacing this bodice. Zarek and I should be walking to the Planting Festival right now; taking off this dress to strap a weapon onto my body is not an option.
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and accept the inevitable.
“You do it,” I say.
I open my eyes. Zarek has his hand over his mouth, like he’s trying to hide his smile. I glare at him.
“If you want me to wear a weapon to a public agricultural festival, then you strap it on,” I snap. “I’m not taking my entire dress off for this.”
I cross my arms over my chest and try to look dignified. Zarek grins.
“It would be my pleasure, Princess,” he replies.
He comes forward, takes the dagger from my hands, and bends down. I huff as I put my leg on the chair once more.
“This is ridiculous,” I grumble.
“I hope you’re right,” Zarek replies.
He crouches in front of the chair, then reaches for my skirts. Something flutters inside my chest. I try to ignore it. This is nothing like trying to convince Blayne to teach me how to kiss. The snake is overly paranoid, and for some reason, he wants me to be too.
His fingers brush my thigh. My breath catches in the back of my throat. Cool leather touches my skin as Zarek wraps the straps around my leg.
And then it’s over. He gives the straps a final tug, pulls my skirt down over my leg, and steps back. I take a breath as I smooth my skirts. My cheeks feel hot, and my heart is racing like I’ve just run the length of the castle gardens. What in the hells is wrong with me?
“There,” he says, still looking at my skirts. “Now, just cut a hole in your pocket so you can reach it.”
I open my mouth. Close it. Swallow. Start again.
“Cut a hole with what?” I reply.
Apparently, my husband has forgotten that I don’t usually walk around palaces with blades strapped to my body. He grins, then bends down and pulls a small silver blade from his boot.
“That’s cute,” I say as the blade winks in the dim light filtering through the rain-streaked windows. “Where are the other five?”
He makes a sound in the back of his throat, something that’s almost a laugh, and then he steps so close I can smell him, a subtle, thick, rich scent mixed with smoke.
“I’ll do it,” he whispers.
His breath is soft and warm on my neck, but still, it makes me shiver.
His hand slides into my pocket again, making my skirts shift and rustle.
He exhales, and his breath makes me feel like sparks are skidding across my skin.
There’s a sound, soft as a whisper, as his tiny blade cuts the inside of the pocket.
“Here,” he says.
His fingers close around my wrist, pulling my hand forward. My heart feels like it’s trying to beat its way out of my chest, and my gods, I need to remember to breathe.
He presses his hand on top of mine, then guides my fingers into my pocket. The tear is near the top, along the seam, just small enough for me to reach through it and feel the hard handle of the dagger as it rests against my thigh.
“If you need it,” Zarek whispers, “it’s there.”
I try to think of something to say, something snappy or clever, something that will make me sound like a princess and not like someone whose skin is burning and whose heart is trying to break free.
But all I can manage is a little murmur of agreement, like we’re at a tea party and he’s just told a story I’ve heard a hundred times before.
Great. Now he’ll think I’m even more of an idiot.
Zarek pulls his hand away and steps back. I run my fingers over the dagger’s handle.
“Thanks?” I say.
I don’t mean it as a question, but my voice rises at the end, making it sound like I’m being ironic. I expect him to grin or say something sarcastic, but he just stares at me with his inscrutable dark eyes.
“Well,” I say, trying to ignore the stupid little wobble in my voice. “Now that we’re both fully armed, should we go to the party?”
He holds his arm out to me. I take it, sliding my fingers over the smooth fabric of his dark jacket, and together, we walk out of the bath chamber, across the bedroom, and into the hall. Anura meets my eyes as Zarek pushes open the door, then falls into step behind us.
It’s only once we step through the wide doors of the palace’s main entrance that I realize how close Zarek’s hand is to the hole he just cut in my dress and the dagger he strapped to my thigh. Guards bow before us, music rises in the air, and I think about the six blades my husband is wearing.
And the seventh one he gave me. Because who would expect him to hide a dagger on his wife?