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I glowered at her.‘Don’t test me,’ I warned.The idea of her belonging to anyone else provoked that creature of instincts beneath my skin into a rage.I gritted my teeth as I wrestled with it.

She rolled her eyes, seeming unaware of the turmoil she’d stirred with a single sentence, and cast her gaze back towards the ocean.‘What do you want, Tarian?’

A lot of things that I wouldn’t say.‘To take you back to Dreadhold.’

‘Where I’m a prisoner and a servant?I think I’d rather just stay here.And I don’t think your fiancé would like it anyway.’She kept her eyes determinedly fixed on the horizon, her mouth pulled into a tight frown.

I almost laughed.‘Briyala couldn’t care less who I have at my home.’

‘Why not?’

Running a hand through my hair, I tried to find a way to explain.‘We have an agreement.’

She looked at me with one eyebrow arched in question.

‘Our engagement was something arranged for us.It’s political.There’s no feeling in it.I have my life, she has hers, and if we marry, we’ll likely continue along the same way.’

‘If?’

I didn’t acknowledge the question.I didn’t realise I still thought there was a way out of the marriage until I’d said the word.‘If I can find a way to break the bond, I’m going to send you home,’ I said instead, changing tack.‘I know that’s what you want.’

‘Good,’ was all she said in reply.

A spike of lightening flashed a little closer, summoning distant thunder.I watched the storm brewing on the horizon as I tried to think of something to say that would keep me from having to pick her up and throw her over my shoulder to get her out of the palace.‘It’s considered bad luck to have a storm on the first day of summer.’

‘You are obsessed with doom.’

Snorting, I looked over at her to see if she was serious.‘I’m what?’

‘Obsessed with doom,’ she repeated, meeting my eyes.‘All I’ve heard out of your mouth since the first moment I met you has been all prophesies and danger and curses and don’t do that Imogen, you’ll die.I get that this whole mate bond thing has rained on your royal parade, but I think you’re overcomplicating it.’

‘Overcomplicating it.’I said the words slowly, like I might have misunderstood them.

‘Don’t look at me like I’m stupid, that’s exactly what I meant.You said you think you can break the bond, yes?’

‘I said it might be possible.’

‘Right.So, if it’s possible to break it, why are you so angry about it?I mean, I don’t know about you, but it just seems to me like a wasted opportunity.’

I stared at her.Her expression seemed earnest enough, but what she was being earnest about, I wasn’t sure.‘Imogen, it’s a bond that ties us to each other for the rest of our lives.It hijacks my instincts and annihilates rationality and—’

‘And turns you into a grabby growly guy who can’t bring himself to kill me, yes I understand,’ she cut in.She licked her lips, turned her face back to sea.The wind pushed her hair back the way I wanted to do.‘It also makes you want to kiss me,’ she said slowly, and even in the grey light I could see her cheeks turn pink.‘And maybe other things.’

Maybe other things.I’d almost fucked her in the forest against a tree.Would have, if we hadn’t been interrupted.Wished I had.‘Maybe other things,’ I agreed, my voice low.

‘Well, there are maybe other things that I also want,’ she continued brashly, but she was still looking away, as if she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get the words out if she looked at me.‘Maybe, when you aren’t being a complete arsehole, I like kissing you.I just think that, if you can break the bond anyway, and if you’re not planning on killing me when you do, couldn’t we just...’She trailed off, flashed me a look out the corner of her eye.That blush in her cheeks deepened.

I didn’t say a word, didn’t shift a muscle.I wanted to hear the rest of it, wanted to watch the words come out of her lips.A dark smile flickered at the corner of my mouth.

She seemed to shiver at the sight of me, and the rest came out in a rush.‘Whatever chemical thing this is, I’ve never felt it before and I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if.You’re like an itch that I can’t scratch and it’s...annoying.’She finished with a flap of her hands, an awkward bark of laughter.I caught one of those hands in mine.She went still.

‘You’d like me to scratch your itch?’I brought the hand to my lips.

She didn’t speak, just watched me, that frown between her brows, like she wished she could take back the words.She couldn’t.They’d taken root, now, had stems and branches and leaves.

I stood, keeping hold of her hand.‘Let’s leave this fucking ball.’

‘Okay,’ she said breathlessly, rising to her feet.There was a loaded moment where neither of us seemed able to move, where I thought about kissing her again, but I tugged her into a walk, and as we headed for the hall again, she slipped her hand out of mine.