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“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.