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Graff led me to his room, and it was nothing short of extravagant.

I was struck by the stark contrast between the white pristine walls and the black décor.

Intricate moldings were carved from the vaulted ceilings to the immaculate floors while the bedding was a silk black that was folded back for my disinterested eye.

Tall windows allowed natural light to spill into the spacious room.

All the furniture was a sleek ebony with smooth curves and sharp angles. A leather armchair sat ominously in the corner while the lacquered dresser opposed the bed. The dresser was adorned with a collection of silver-framed photographs on the ends and a vase filled with white roses in the center.

In the center of the room was a carefully arranged intimate round table with rose petals scattered over the white tablecloth.

A warm glow emanated from lanterns, and floating lights wafted of vanilla as Graff guided me to the table.

Even the enchanting atmosphere couldn’t distract me from Graff’s smug expression and meticulously styled bronze-blond hair.

He reached to pull a chair out for me, but I was quick to do it myself. I looked toward the door, waiting for something to happen.

Four white-gloved waiters emerged from the open door, each one balancing a silver tray with synchronized movements.

They set the trays down in unison, and before I could blink, they were gone.

Reluctantly, I feasted my eyes upon the delicacies left before me.

Roasted herbs, seared meat, and freshly baked bread filled the room with their tantalizing aromas.

My mouth watered as I realized the last thing I had eaten had been with Fletcher earlier this morning.

Each dish was a work of art, plated with precision and purpose .

I subdued the desire to stuff my face when I saw Graff’s expression lighten at my appeased expression.

An uncomfortable silence stretched between the two of us as I continued to gaze at everything that had been brought.

My eyes riveted on the small white teacup filled with a familiar sweet scent and blue-tinted liquid.

Ocaberry tea. The most concentrated form of ingesting the berry that would make my head loopy with a wild high.

I reached my hand out, casually swiping the tea off the table until it shattered on the ground.

The only man I would ever trust enough to drink that with was Fletcher.

“Whoops.” I shrugged.

Graff quietly chuckled before he, too, reached over to his teacup and did the same. Without looking back at me for my reaction, he began eating.

After a few bites, he looked to see that I hadn’t picked up my silver fork yet. He put his down and sighed loudly. “What happened to you?”

I curled my upper lip. “You said a meal, not small talk.”

“You’re not eating though. So if you can break the agreement, then I can too. ”

I rolled my eyes, picked up my fork, and shoved steamed vegetables into my mouth. “Happy?” I said through chews.

He frowned. “No.”

“Why do you even want to extort a meal out of me anyway? Surely you know I’d be miserable company after the stunt you pulled.”

“It’s simple really. I went through hell without you here in Elizy. I’d like to understand why.”

I remained quiet, chewing the same piece of broccoli for far too long.

“Years of being bonded to you and never actually having met you. It’s taken its toll on me.”

“If you really wanted to get to know me, then you should have come looking for me,” I bit out.

“You’re right.” His fork entered his mouth, and he scraped off the food with his teeth.

“But I was ordered to stay here. And unfortunately, the queen’s orders surpassed my hatred of Fletcher and feelings for you, a stranger.

I was only six at the time of the ritual, Ripley. I didn’t know any better.”

I let out the air from my lungs, thinking of him as a six-year-old getting ordered by the queen of his kingdom to stay put.

So he did. Could I blame him for that? Yes.

Yes, I could. “Whatever,” I grumbled, dropping the fork with a clang and eating more food with my fingers, wiping the remnants on my dress.

“So who kidnapped you? Where did Fletcher find you?”

A grimace overtook my face. “None of your business.”

“Okay.” He directed his eyes back at his food and bit a piece of roasted carrot.

He looked sad. Like someone had been trying to deflate him his whole life, but he had been fighting against it just to reach this moment. And the massive disappointment all over his face read of regret and apathy.

I shook my head, snapping myself out of my habitual optimism. It was what had gotten me in this predicament in the first place. It was that considerate thinking that always got me into trouble. Believe no one. Everyone had ulterior motives except for Fletcher.

“You know,” he started, wiping his mouth with the folded napkin from his lap, “I am currently in charge of you getting outside of the barrier and determining how often you can see Fletcher.”

I spread my lips into a disingenuous smile. “I’m aware of your corrupt callousness. ”

He frowned again and set the napkin down.

“So, do all husbands get to control their wives as devastatingly tight-leashed as you are?”

He shook his head. “Oh god, no. All married couples, husbands and wives, husbands and husbands, and wives and wives, all are free to make any decision. In fact, woman are held in a much higher regard than men here. You won’t see that sort of thing in many other places.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So what gives?” I said, nibbling on a carrot and ignoring the low rumbles emanating from below my empty stomach.

“This,” he gestured with his fork, “was not my request. I am a man of tradition. If you wanted to be with Fletcher on our wedding night and never see me again, I’d have let you.

This was a request by the queen that I take the reins of this marriage.

She doesn’t trust you yet, so we are bound in more ways than one right now, including whether you’re able to leave the barrier or not.

” An unfamiliar gleam filled his eyes as he lowered his voice and said, “I hope this meal helps you learn to tolerate me.”

The comment sat wrong with me. It tugged on that part of my naivety, and I had to physically dismiss it by grinding my teeth before I said anything kind that would mislead him. “So does that mean she thinks we won’t be crossing the barrier after this meal?”

“It does.”

He’d be breaking the queen’s orders for me. Good. He should always disregard her rules. I grinned. “Well, then let’s eat up.” I slammed my hands over the platter of vegetables and grabbed two handfuls, stuffing whatever I could in my mouth and tossing the rest onto the floor.

He sat back and watched as I demolished the plate of food, amused disbelief evident in the relaxed set of his jaw.

A few minutes later, when I was satiated and when most of the food was on the floor, I stood, wiping my hands on my dress again and said, “Okay, let’s go.”

His brows pulled down at my abrupt movements. He let his chair screech as he stood suddenly. “Fine.”

As he walked to me, the door to the bedroom opened with the four waiters carrying more plates of food. “I’ll take us, and you steer.”

I didn’t get a chance to see what the servers were bringing before Graff’s hand came down on my forearm and we were whisked away by wind and anger.