Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
DOMINIC
The world solidified around us in a shimmer, and I soon stood in the castle’s grand entrance hall with my new wife beside me. Marble floors gleamed beneath our feet, reflecting the soft glow of enchanted lanterns floating near the vaulted ceiling.
Sasha pulled her hand from mine the instant we materialized.
I tried to focus on her face, to gauge her reaction to her new home, but another giggle bubbled up my throat. I pressed my lips together, mortified.
“I’m sorry,” I managed to say, the words breaking on an involuntary chuckle. “About the ceremony, I didn’t mean—”
“Please stop.” Her voice came out carefully neutral, but there was no missing the tightness around her deep blue eyes or the way her fingers touched the locket at her throat. The hurt in her eyes cut deeply.
“I’m trying,” I said, and Fates help me, I was. But even as I spoke, another laugh escaped, making me sound like a complete fool. “I don’t know what’s—” Giggle. “—happening to me.”
Her expression remained composed, a mask of politeness that made my chest ache.
She was beautiful, even more so than I’d realized during our brief meeting a week ago to finalize the marriage contract.
Her dark hair was still elaborately styled from the ceremony, and her pale-yellow wedding gown made her look like captured sunlight.
But it was her seriousness that drew me, the quiet strength in the way she held herself and the sharp intelligence I’d glimpsed in her eyes before the disaster at the altar.
I’d humiliated her at our own wedding.
The raven on her shoulder shifted, its black feathers gleaming as it studied me with unsettling intelligence.
“This is Savory,” Sasha said, her tone thawing slightly. “My companion. She can communicate with me mentally.”
“Ah.” I tried for a welcoming smile, fighting back yet another chuckle. “Welcome to the court, Savory.”
The raven tilted her head but said nothing—at least nothing I could hear.
I cleared my throat, desperate to salvage something from this catastrophe. “Would you like a tour? It might help you get oriented.”
Sasha studied me for a long moment, her composed gaze making me wonder what she saw. A giggling fool who’d made a mockery of their wedding vows? A frivolous fae king who couldn’t take anything seriously? Her politeness felt like quiet judgment, confirming I’d already proven myself unworthy.
“A tour would be acceptable,” she finally said.
Not enthusiastic, but not a refusal either. I’d take what I could get.
“The throne room is this way.” I gestured to the main corridor, then fell into step beside her.
Close enough to be polite, but not so close I’d invade her space.
She walked with her posture as straight as a sword, and I found myself admiring the way she moved.
She appeared precise and controlled, with nothing wasted.
Eyes in the portraits hanging on the wall followed us.
She stopped beside one, staring up with a frown knitting her brow. “Are they…trapped in there?”
“Oh, no. They infused a touch of themselves into the art. It’s…a long-standing joke in the fae court.”
She turned her frown my way. “Why?”
“It’s…supposed to be fun.”
Her shoulders twitched. “Fun.”
“Yes, um…that.”
“I see.”
I suspected she didn’t.
“This way.” I directed her to the end of the hall.
The throne room doors stood open, and I led her through, into the heart of my court. Pride swelled in my chest despite my overwhelming urge to burst into laughter. This room never failed to impress visitors.
The throne itself had been grown from a living tree, its branches forming a natural seat and backing. Gold and yellow leaves rustled in the limbs overhead. Crystal chandeliers hung overhead, each one holding hundreds of tiny lights that danced like captured stars.
As we passed underneath them, the crystals chimed, reacting to our presence with melodies that shifted based on our moods. A few of the lights broke away from the chandelier, spiraling down to circle us like curious pixies before returning to their positions.
Sasha sucked in a breath and studied them, but I couldn’t read anything but bemusement on her face.
The walls were covered in living, flowering vines. Or they should’ve been blooming. My steps slowed as I noticed several sections where some had drooped, their petals curling inward.
When had that started?
“This is where I hold formal audiences,” I said, gesturing to the raised dais. Another giggle escaped me, despite gritting my teeth to hold it back. “The throne is over two hundred years old, grown by my great-grandmother when she—”
“Your Majesty!” A voice rang out, and I suppressed a groan as Lord Turren swept into the room.
As always, he was impeccably dressed, his purple hair secured at the nape of his neck with a jeweled clasp, his coat an elaborate creation of silk and embroidery. He pressed a hand to his chest as he approached.
“This giggling crisis is affecting my complexion,” he announced, pulling out a small mirror to check his reflection even as he spoke. “I’m so consumed with worry, I’ve barely slept. And you know what lack of sleep does to one’s appearance.”
I felt another laugh building and tried desperately to swallow it down. “Lord Turren, may I introduce—”
“Is that—” He paused mid-gesture, his eyes widening as he took in Sasha’s gown and elaborate hairstyle. “Is this the new fashion trend? How fascinating. Darling, you simply must tell me where you acquired that look. The structured elegance is oh-so intriguing.”
Sasha’s eyebrow rose, and I couldn’t tell if she was amused or offended.
Savory made a soft sound, and Sasha’s lips twitched.
“Savory says she’s never seen someone so concerned with their appearance that they carry a mirror to announce emergencies,” she said, her voice carefully neutral but with the faintest hint of amusement.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. Not the uncontrollable giggling that had plagued me all day, but a genuine laugh at the absurdity of it all. Turren looked baffled and checked his mirror again as if it might explain what he’d missed.
“Well,” he finally said, “I’m glad someone appreciates the crisis.” He swept from the throne room, tripping on the rug because he was so busy studying his reflection.
Sasha almost smiled. Just the barest curve at the corner of her mouth, gone so quickly I might’ve imagined it.
But I didn’t imagine the warmth that flooded through me at the sight.
This small victory felt fleeting. If I could just stop this infernal giggling long enough to show her the capable leader I could be, the one who solved problems, not caused them. Then maybe she’d see my value.
“The ballroom is through here,” I said, after we’d left the throne room and walked down the hall to the end and taken a left. If I could get her to smile like that again, really smile, maybe this disaster of a wedding day could be salvaged.
As we walked toward the ballroom, the patter of quick footsteps echoed behind us.
Lady Lydia Featherby approached, her silver braids decorated with tiny white flowers bobbing with each step. Her green gown fluttered around her petite frame, and multiple necklaces holding butterfly and flower charms jingled as she moved.
“Your Majesty. Your Majesty,” she called, her green eyes sparkling with concern.
“I was returning from the herb gardens when I heard about your lovely bride’s arrival.
” She reached us slightly out of breath, immediately focusing on Sasha with the intensity of a worried grandmother.
“My dear, you look positively radiant, but I can see the tension around your eyes. New places can be overwhelming for sensitive souls.”
Before either of us could speak, she pulled a small silk pouch from her purse looped over her arm and handed it to Sasha.
“My favorite frostmire and blusterwhen blend, perfect for an evening tea to settle the nerves. And this,” she produced a tiny glass vial, “is my special tincture for headaches. Just three drops in water if you feel any pressure behind your temples.”
Sasha blinked. “That’s very thoughtful, Lady—”
“Featherby, dear. Lady Lydia Featherby. And don’t you worry about a thing.
I’ve been looking after this court for years.
We’ll have you feeling perfectly at home in no time.
” She patted Sasha’s arm and turned to me with a knowing smile.
“Your Majesty, you must ensure she eats properly. Travel can be hard on the constitution, and a new bride needs her strength.”
“I’ll see that she’s well cared for,” I said, amused by Sasha’s slightly stunned expression.
“Wonderful. I won’t keep you from your tour, then, but do remember, if either of you need anything at all for your health or comfort, you must send for me. I have remedies for everything from nervous stomachs to sleepless nights.”
With that, she hurried down the corridor, her braids bouncing and her jewelry chiming.
“Well,” Sasha said, looking down at the pouch and vial in her hands, “that was interesting.”
“Lady Lydia is a joy,” I said with a grin. “She appointed herself the court’s unofficial caretaker years ago. You’ll get used to her fussing.”
“She seems sweet.”
“She is. And her remedies actually work, which makes her fussing more tolerable.”
I pushed open the big double doors to the ballroom, and even I had to admit the room was impressive.
The ceiling had been enchanted to show the sky above, currently displaying the soft pastels of late afternoon to mirror the outside.
The dance floor stretched out ahead of us, inlaid with stones that shifted colors as light played across them.
Normally, the decorative plants in the corners would burst into bloom at our entrance, but like in the throne room, they had wilted.
She moved closer to examine the drooping plants.
“These are yarling blossoms,” she said.
“Yes.”