Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
She lost her footing and stumbled forward. “Oh,” she gasped.
March wrapped an arm around her torso, sending tendrils of ice across every inch of her skin. Her chest pressed tight to his, and she tried not to shiver in his embrace. His eyes were the darkest blue as they met hers with tender affection and none of the deadly predator she knew was inside him.
“My lady,” he said, releasing her slowly.
Kerrigan stepped away and tried to pretend it was for propriety and not disgust. “My lord.” She dipped into a shallow curtsy to avoid his gaze.
He bowed slightly at the waist. “You look stunning tonight.”
“Thank you, my lord.”
He held his elbow out to her, and she put her hand on the sleeve of his jacket. His cravat was the navy of the Bryonican tribe, and the House of Medallion coat of arms was emblazoned on the breast of his jacket. But the pocket square and undershirt were the exact same color of baby blue as her dress.
“I have missed you these past weeks,” he said with earnest.
She swallowed the words she wanted to say. March could be charming, and he was definitely attractive. But she’d seen the mask fall when he threatened innocents if she did not marry him and give him his crown. Just because he had come around to her at the battle did not mean that his mood couldn’t shift with the wind.
“My duties to the Society keep me occupied.”
“We will have to get to know each other more in the months leading up to the wedding,” he said with a smile. “I want to hear all about your duties.”
“Ah, well, I was nominated for the Society council.”
His eyes gleamed with delight. “Truly? So young?”
“Yes. Though I doubt I will win. I don’t have the means of others.”
March grinned, and it was terrifying. “Whatever do you mean? You are an heiress to the House of Cruse and betrothed to the heir of the House of Medallion. You can have whatever you want. If you want to win the council seat, then allow me to put the entire weight of Bryonica behind it.”
His offer was tempting. So tempting that she nearly stopped breathing entirely. She had only ever thought of Bryonica as the place that had abandoned her. As the people who hadn’t seen that she wasn’t a missing princess. Rather, she had been thrown away, right under their noses.
She had never considered the advantage of being in the wealthiest of the tribes. What it would mean to have two of the four royal houses backing her financially and using their influence to persuade the other members. How March, a war hero, could get her what she wanted. If that was what she wanted.
“Is that what you want, Kerrigan?” he asked as they stepped up to be announced.
A weight settled in her stomach at the eagerness in his voice. If she let him do this, then he would own her seat. He would see it as another one of his victories. She could do so much with that seat. Help half-Fae and humans alike, enact changes from on high, be the voice that was so needed in the government. Was that worth it to be in debt to Ashby March?
“Lord Ashby March, First of the House of Medallion of Bryonica,” a man called out before she could get her thoughts together enough to answer. “And Lady Felicity Argon, First of the House of Cruse of Bryonica.”
Kerrigan cringed at the use of her first name. She wasn’t Felicity any longer. Felicity was the female she would have grown into if she were fully Fae, if her ears were sharply pointed, and if she’d been the good little girl that everyone wanted her to be. Felicity had died thirteen years ago, and Kerrigan had been reborn out of the ashes.
The last time someone had called her Felicity, Fordham had threatened them within an inch of their life for the insult. March just looked smug.
He tugged her forward into the mass of people at the party. She disappeared inside of herself as he walked her around the room like a pet on display. No one sneered at her with him at her elbow the way they did when she was alone. But pretending to consider him an actual option rubbed her. She felt like something had slithered under her skin and was threatening to break free.
“There you are!” a voice said behind her.
She turned to find Darby in a rose-petal dress that highlighted her onyx skin and lush, long black coils. Kerrigan released a harsh breath and drew her friend in for a hug. “Save me,” she whispered into her ear.
“Lord March, it’s a pleasure,” Darby said with a deep curtsy.
“Ah, you’re the House of Stoirm girl.”
“That’s right.”
“And you’re betrothed to Lord Trask.”