She still didn’t trust him, but she wasn’t terrified of him.
He’d kept his promises and she’d kept hers. It worked for them both.
What she didn’t tell her husband was that she’d successfully managed to hide away several jewel-encrusted hairpins that would hopefully secure herself a ship and provisions. But she was no closer to finding a way out of the castle; all entrances and exits to the palace were heavily guarded, and she had no doubt that the expansive gardens were teeming with spies and guard dogs.
Wren thought back to the dragon and the mad boy locked in prison. It had seemed like such a desperate, suicidal plan to use the dragon to escape, yet now it seemed more and more appealing. The longer she stayed in the palace the more she itched to escape. The castle was enormous, and she hadn’t even scratched the surface when it came to exploring, but it was still a prison.
That evening, Arrik stormed into the room and slammed the door.
Wren blinked at him. That was the first instance of a temper he’d ever shown in quite some time. “What’s wrong?”
“We are expected at dinner with my family,” he said simply. He tossed a green gauzy garment onto the bed and began stripping as he walked out into the courtyard. “My step mother sends her regards along with that dress.”
“I have plenty of dresses,” Wren called back, getting up from the chair. The plants rustled as the prince disappeared from sight.
“Well, I like this one and it would please my stepmother.”
Wren scowled and eyed the dress like it was a snake. She’d seen what the queen viewed as appropriate clothing over the last few weeks. Lifting it up, Wren sighed. The neckline was higher than any of her other dresses and had a solid fabric beneath the sheer layers so no one would see all of her important bits.
She hugged it to her chest and darted toward the privy to get changed. Not only did she want privacy but she had managed to steal a little bag which she could hide beneath her dresses. Wren kept her filched treasures there.
It was time to become the prince’s complicit little wife.
Well, not complete amenable.
Wren slipped on the gauzy emerald-green dress and then exited the privy. She smiled as she ran her hands down the gown. It was stunning. Her mum would have loved it. She swallowed hard, her smile staying in place. It was nice to have a happy thought about her mum.
Water splashed outside; she glanced toward the courtyard just beyond the billowing white curtains. The plants waved in the wind and her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of toned, wet skin.
Arrik.
The elves had no shame. They even bathed out in the open.
Don’t be such a prude. Your people do the same.
Quickly, she adjusted the golden, jeweled straps of her dress on her shoulders and smoothed her hands down the gauzy material. It clung to her curves in a classy way that made her feel beautiful. For the first time since she’d arrived in the elvish kingdom, Wren felt like she was back in her own skin.
In her short time in Verlanti, she’d learned two things: beauty was valued above all else and women were praised for their sensuality.
Tonight, Wren would use both.
She ran her fingers through her tangled red locks to unknot them and pinched her cheeks to add some color.
This was it.
Gut churning, she padded toward the curtains, the trees surrounding the bathing pool gently rustling. Wren averted her eyes and slung a hip against one of the tall, white marble pillars that bracketed the entrance to their room when Arrik exited the pool. She examined the painted sunset, even as she focused on every sound her new husband made as he approached her.
He paused near her side and Wren glanced at him, relieved to see that he was now covered by a towel. His long silver hair hung in his face, dripping water down his chiseled chest. His weapons were tucked underneath his arm. The man never let her near any of them. He was smart.
“Like something you see, Princess?” he murmured.
She dismissed him, focusing her attention once more on the sky. “Beauty isn’t everything, Prince.”
“On that we can agree.”
“It was bound to happen,” she retorted. “Get dressed or we’ll be late for dinner. I’m sure that would displease your king.”
He grunted and moved into the room. Wren was keenly aware of his movements behind her. Her cheeks warmed as his clothes rustled. What was wrong with her? She’d never been a prude before. A body was just a body. Why did he affect her so? That was part of the problem. Arrik had become a person to her in the weeks that had passed. He wasn’t just a faceless monster she could blame her pain on.
You’re betraying Rowen.
She squeezed her eyes shut and shoved the ugly thought away. Rowen was gone. The best thing she could do was survive and then take vengeance for him.
“I have something for you,” Arrik rumbled behind her.
“A gift? You shouldn’t have,” she snarked. Reel it in, Wren. More flies with honey than vinegar.
Her dress whispered around her ankles as she faced her husband.
“Temper,” he murmured.
Wren sighed. “I’m not the only one.”
He pursed his lips. “I apologize. It has been a…rough day.”
She blinked at him. That was surprisingly honest. They usually kept personal things to themselves. “I am sorry.”
The prince shrugged. “It is nothing.”
He set an ornately carved box on the bed and opened it, pulling out a headpiece. Raw black crystals were woven together with gold strands to create a crown that looked suited only for the goddess of the underworld. Delicate gold chains hung from the sides and the back was adorned with tiny black crystals.
Her eyes widened as Arrik pulled out a choker from the box with a large black diamond pendant at the center. He approached her in his signature black leather pants and velvet waist coat, his wet hair leaving patches on the silk shirt he wore.
“A few finishing touches,” he murmured, nodding toward the full-length mirror to her right. “Turn around and I’ll put them on you.”
Wren complied slowly and watched him as he approached her. The prince met her gaze in the mirror and then carefully set the crown atop her head. She shivered as he pushed aside her hair and lowered the choker over her head and placed it around her neck. This was so stupid. If he wanted to, he could easily kill her.
Play nice.
He leaned closer and his eucalyptus and leather scent invaded her senses. Wren inhaled shallowly when his breath cascaded over her neck and shoulder, causing butterflies to take flight in her belly.
“Are you quite finished?” she managed tightly. Every brush from his calloused fingers were causing goosebumps to ripple across her freckled arms.
“It’s a tiny clasp and my fingers are having a hard time with the task,” he grunted.
“I can do it.”
“I know.” He once again met her gaze in the mirror. “You are very capable.”
Was that a compliment?
Arrik clasped the choker but didn’t withdraw. He smoothed her hair back into place and settled his large hands on the edges of her bare shoulders. “Now you look like a true princess.”
“It’s not how you look but a state of the mind,” Wren replied automatically. Her mum had repeated those words to her over the years. She never understood them more than she did now.
“True,” her husband mused. His thumbs skated over her skin. They gazed at each other for a beat of silence before he said, “Is it so bad to be my bride?”
Yes, she wanted to scream, but Wren kept the words from tumbling free. Deep down she knew it would have been a lie.
“I was sold to you. Did you think gems from my own kingdom would sway me?” Not exactly antagonistic, but not the words of seductress either.
He barked out a laugh. “You’re not one to hold back your thoughts, are you?”
Her lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. “So I am told.”
His mirth faded. “It is a dangerous habit in this place.”