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As the door clicked closed after her, Wilder had to pour a drink to steady himself, to tame his pounding heart.

The truth of his own words hit him.

Princess.

Thea was a Princess of Delmira.

And he was so deeply in love with her it might just consume him.

Knocking back the drink without even tasting it, Wilder made quick work of washing, opting to empty the tub and simply pour the pails over himself as he scrubbed.

But when he entered the main chamber, Wilder stopped in his tracks.

The gown King Artos had provided for Thea was clever, paying homage to the dream she had for herself. Black and silver entwined, it clung to her waist and curves, falling elegantly to the floor, but the bodice… It was embellished with fine lines of steel.

It was more than a beautiful dress.

It looked like armour.

Wilder swallowed the lump in his throat as that intense green gaze met his.

He’d been wrong. Thea wasn’t a princess.

She was a queen.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

THEA

No one had ever looked at Thea the way Wilder did. The harsh lines of his handsome face softened as his gaze lingered on her dress and the kohl she’d swept across her eyes.

He cleared his throat. ‘You look…’

Warmth bloomed in her chest as she watched him struggle for words. She had chosen the gown for a number of reasons; every one of them had been confirmed when she glimpsed herself in the mirror. It wasn’t a dress for hiding or denying who she was. It only amplified her fierceness, her determination. She liked the way it made her feel – almost as powerful as when she carried a sword.

The way Wilder looked at her now made her feel more powerful still.

‘You look incredible. Beyond beautiful…’ he murmured, shaking his head, his spots of colour appearing on his cheeks.

‘So do you,’ Thea replied, strapping Malik’s dagger to the bejewelled belt at her waist.

The Warsword’s brow furrowed and he looked down at his tattooed body, covered only by a towel slung low around his hips.

Thea just smiled. ‘Hurry up, or we’ll be late.’ As the words left her mouth, she almost started. It was such a natural thing to say, so familiar. But then, she supposed they had been as intimate as two people could get.

Wilder seemed to track her movements across the room, before he dropped his towel and went to the armoire, completely naked.

Thea’s mouth went dry at the sight of his muscular backside and powerful thighs. She glimpsed his erection too, hard and thick, bobbing as he moved.

Gods, he was a vision. A warrior carved by the Furies themselves, every spectacular inch of him. It took every bit of willpower she had to stop herself from pouncing on him. She had meant what she’d said. Hewasbeautiful. And not just the sun-kissed, scar-flecked skin and powerful muscles that shifted with each movement… Not just the sharp line of his jaw and the gleam in those silver eyes… But something deeper than all of that.

She watched him dress in silence, wondering how someone putting clothes on could be just as erotic as taking them off. But he proved just that, slipping each layer on with military efficiency, buttons and ties bowing to his deft fingers, fingers that had just —

Thea shook the thought from her head, her toes already curling in her slippers as she swallowed hard. If she thought of that now, no amount of willpower would save her.

When he was finished, Wilder was dressed in all black as usual, but this time, no armour, no leathers. His pants and tunic were of a fine make, subtly embellished with silver thread at the seams, only serving to bring out the steel in his gaze.

‘We should go,’ he said at last.