Page 72

TATE

I look down at her, snuggled up against me in my bed. She’s perfect, and it’s still hard to believe that she’s here, next to me, safe and bonded, and mine. I smile to myself.

Mine.

We never did talk, but her actions were loud and clear.

Dawn is painting the sky a pale gray, and I’ll soon have to get up. Maybe I’ll skip the extra training just this once.

I brush a lock out of her face, marveling at the fact that I have the right to do so. She stirs, snuggling closer, burying her face at my shoulder. I kiss the top of her head, and she shifts again.

Her eyes blink open, zeroing in on my face, and she smiles sleepily.

“You are fucking perfect,” I whisper and brush my thumb over her cheek.

“I could get used to your face in the morning, too,” she murmurs, her voice still heavy with sleep and squeals when I tickle her ribs for that smart comment. My lips silence her.

“You will get us caught.” I shake my head at her playfully and tug her closer.

“Worried about your reputation?” Ara flashes me a devilish grin before she goes in for another kiss.

“No, only for the life of anyone who makes the wrong comment.” My voice is gruff, and I steal another kiss. I’m not lying. I’m sure I will fly off the handle if someone talks shit about her.

“You are cute,” she says, tracing the outline of my face.

I smile down at her, shaking my head at that ridiculous statement. Only she would ever describe me as cute.

“The next days will be hell.” She pouts and looks so adorable doing it that my grin widens.

“Just tell your brother no and stay,” I suggest even though I know it isn’t an option.

“I can't. There is so much I need to speak to them about, so much I need to take care of.” She sighs.

“I pushed everything out of my mind, not thinking past Picking, and now that with you.” She looks up at me.

“I really should clear up… some things.” There are nerves in her eyes, and she opens and closes her mouth a few times as if unsure if she should continue.

“Actually…I have to tell you something,” she finally rushes out.

Suddenly, I'm sure I don't want to hear it.

She sits up, and the bedsheet pools around her waist. My shirt looks ridiculously big on her, slipping off one of her shoulders. I want to lean in and kiss the bare curve, but my eyes are drawn to her twisting hands.

My heart rate spikes, and I fight the urge to grab her, to make her forget whatever it is she’s about to tell me.

Instead, I sit up as well and, grabbing her chin softly, bring her gaze back to me.

“Tell me.”

She swallows and wraps her arms around herself, her smile missing. Now she’s scaring me.

“You know that I didn't tell my family I came here.” She starts, and I nod, waiting patiently when she stops and bites her lip.

“Part of why they let me go, let me stay away for so long and never questioned it, is that I turn twenty-one next month.” She takes a gulping breath, her eyes flicking down to my hand, still holding her chin, and hurries through the next sentence in one long breath.

“At that point, the betrothal agreement will come into effect.”

It takes a moment for my brain to catch up, but then my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

“You are promised to someone?”

That can't be.

I make her look at me, search her eyes, and hope I misunderstood. But she nods.

She fucking nods. I release her.

Anger boils up in my chest, nearly choking me.

“You are promised to someone else and didn't tell me?” My voice is dangerously soft. She knows me well enough by now to wince.

How could she let this happen? Was this no more than her last taste of freedom?

“How could you?”

Hurt and betrayal want to rip me apart.

“I don’t plan to marry him,” she says.

“Oh, and that makes it better?” I snap. “You should have told me!”

“I know! I left all of that behind when I came here, and then that with us just happened, and I...I didn't know how to tell you… without losing you.” Her eyes look dangerously bright. She looks down. “Please don't be angry.”

“Oh well then, tell me how I should feel when the woman…I…” love… The word burns in my throat while I swallow. “ I… fucked all night casually mentions that she’s another man’s woman and about to be married.”

“I'm not,” she cries out. “I don't even know him. I only met him once as a child. Our parents made that agreement.” She snatches my hand like she wants to hold on to me. “I will not do it, Tate. I won’t.” Her eyes plead with me to understand.

On some level, I do get it. I grew up with all this bullshit, after all. If I hadn’t given up my position as crown prince, I would be in the same position. Arranged marriages are common not only for wealth and political power but also to keep the magic flowing strong.

“Who is it? Do I know him?” I growl. Cassius’s face flashes before my eyes. But she said she doesn't know the bastard, so it can't be him.

“You are leaving for Argona, right?” I barrel on. I still have power there. I have connections. Maybe I can persuade whoever it is to negate the agreement. Scare them into it, if necessary. I can—

“The heir of the crown.” It’s barely a whisper, but she might as well have kicked my feet out from under me.

Another piece of the puzzle clicks into place… It had been in front of my eyes since I knew Blackstone was her brother, but I was so occupied with worrying for her life that I simply didn’t connect the dots.

My friends call me Ara .

Ara is a nickname…and Summer isn't her family name…

“You’re Tamara Blackstone?”

Shit, it all makes fucking sense now. How she isn't intimidated by rank and titles; how she’s fucking perfect in handling even the most arrogant prick.

Her exceptional swordsmanship…She was raised by a general and among warriors, probably playing with swords instead of dolls. She was raised to be a queen, my queen.

Ara—no, Tamara Blackstone—nods, and my heart splinters into tiny, jagged shards, threatening to gut me alive.

She was supposed to be mine, but now, she’s my brother’s.