Chapter 46
“What do you think?”
Sebastian turned from the window overlooking the bustling streets of Elyren, arms crossed over his chest.
It was a fine city. Plenty of market and trade, busy vendors and shops, all constructed within the towering forest. It even ascended into the canopy, structures built between the branches and connected by long, thick bridges of gnarled wood.
He’d gotten another glimpse of their earth magic at work as a crew had repaired one of those bridges.
Much like the Idrixians, the Vathans used their hands to warp and shape the wood and stone and earth.
It was akin to how Onitans manipulated fire or air—though these southern people had much more practical uses for their magic.
The reminder of magic—and the refusal of Ciana to acknowledge her own—sent a wave of unease through him.
It fell to pieces when his gaze landed on her across the room, standing before a full-length mirror.
Her gown was black, its sleeves and bodice sheer.
Colorful flowers of red and orange and pink and cream were woven into the material, covering what it needed to and spilling down the sleeves.
More flowers were embroidered onto the skirts, dripping over Ciana’s curves.
Her mass of golden curls was pulled halfway back from her face, pinned on either side of her head and cascading down her back.
“Sebastian?” She cocked her head, amusement in her eyes.
Sebastian swallowed thickly. He wanted to tell her that she looked like sunshine and warmth brought to life.
Even in black, she radiated light, as if the flowers on the gown were blooming just for her.
Everything about Ciana glowed, her lips caught in a half-smile that always seemed just a moment from bursting into a laugh.
But he didn’t. Because she wasn’t wearing this dress for him. She’d ordered this dress for a very specific purpose, and it wasn’t for his compliments.
She was wearing it to woo a king.
“It looks good. I’m sure the king will love it.” The words burned as he forced them out. He couldn’t even hide it, either; he sounded like he’d swallowed acid.
Ciana frowned. “If you scowl any deeper, you’ll turn into Andrian.”
Sebastian huffed, but it wasn’t a real laugh. He wasn’t sure he knew how to find humor these days. He shoved his hands in his pockets, striding away from the window.
“I don’t like any of this,” he said after a moment. He leaned heavily on the wall, his eyes turning up to the ceiling. It was woven from the branches of the tree growing in the center of Ciana’s rooms, dripping with Vatha’s strange glowing lights.
Not allume, he reminded himself. It might as well be magic, nonetheless.
Ciana made an impatient sound. “That’s obvious. But you could, I don’t know, pretend. Or, at the bare minimum, try.”
Pretend. Was that what she was doing? Was she telling him the truth when she said it was all an act, that she was just playing her part with Niktael?
He’d seen the way she’d been with him. He’d thought those uninhibited smiles she gave the king were ones she saved just for him.
What a fool he was.
“I don’t trust the king.” Sebastian’s voice was low, lower than what felt like normal for him. He cleared his throat. “I don’t trust the way he looks at you. Like you’re a challenge to be beaten or a conquest to be won.”
“Well, I am, aren’t I?”
Sebastian snapped his gaze to her. She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest and popping out a hip.
“The entire reason I’m here is to be a conquest for the king,” she continued. “He wins me, so we can get into those archives. But besides…I don’t think he’s like that. Nik has been nothing but kind to us so far.”
Sebastian ground his teeth. Nik. He hated when she used that name for the king.
It was familiar. It was close. It was intimate.
“I know I’ve said this already,” he said quietly, “and I could never loathe my queen. My life is bound to hers, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. But—” He stalked to Ciana, holding her gaze as he stared down at her. “But I despise that she’s making you do this.”
Ciana’s nostrils flared, eyes sparking. “She’s not making me do anything, Sebastian. You may refuse to believe it, but I am my own woman. Mariah asked me for a favor, and I said yes.”
“It was an unreasonable favor.”
“That isn’t for you to decide!” Ciana tossed her hands up, voice pitching higher. “What the fuck is the matter with you, anyway?”
Sebastian held her gaze, his chest heaving. His blood thrummed in his ears, heart hammering beneath his ribs.
What was the matter with him? Sure, he’d made it no secret that this whole situation they were in bothered him. But these feelings, this crawling anger beneath his skin, this burning possessive instinct he couldn’t seem to shake…
This wasn’t him. He was better than this.
He would be better than this.
Sebastian forced a deep inhale, swallowing down the humid air. His hands unclenched, muscles slowly relaxing, tension falling from him as he banished it from his body.
He again surveyed Ciana. She’d dusted gold across the apples of her cheeks, a splattering of shimmer mixing with her freckles. Her lips were painted a soft pink, eyes wide and watching him. She wore minimal jewelry, save for a small black and gold ring on her pinky…
Wait.
“Is that your sautoire?” His question was soft, but the words were pointed. Ciana straightened, glancing at her hand with wide eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Yes.”
The ring she’d been gifted on her first debutante. A ring set with deistair.
A ring that suppressed her magic.
He knew she’d been struggling to come to terms with her gift. But he never thought she’d go so far as to put that ring back on.
Sebastian gripped tight to his control to keep his voice steady. “Why—”
“It’s none of your concern, Sebastian.” Sharpness flashed in her eyes. “I have a task. I can’t let anything get in the way.”
It was a gut punch—that she thought something as beautiful as her magic was a problem.
He wanted to push back. Wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how her magic was a strength, not a weakness. That she had nothing to be afraid of, that she could embrace every last piece of herself and be safe in doing so.
But he didn’t. Because now was not the time.
If there was one thing he’d learned about Ciana, it was that her decisions always had to be her own. After everything she’d been through, that was the least she deserved.
“Just…be careful. Please.” His voice sounded a little more like himself, if more ragged and resigned than he meant for it to.
Ciana, softened, her smile returning and lightening her face. “Of course.” She arched an eyebrow. “But only if you stop worrying about me.”
Sebastian opened his mouth, about to tell her that he would always worry about her, that there wasn’t a single second of the day that passed when he wasn’t worrying about her, when a knock echoed through the room. Their gazes both swung to the heavy oak, Sebastian’s heart dropping into his stomach.
Let her go.
Ciana nearly skipped to the door, swinging it open on silent hinges. A palace servant stood on the other side, patient and waiting.
“Lady Visseau.” The servant bowed. “The king is waiting for you.”
“Of course.” Ciana started out the door. “Don’t wait up for me, Seb!”
The wood slammed behind her.
“Unfortunately, Goldie,” he whispered into the lonely silence, “I always will.”