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W e exited the carriage to a horde of eager-looking servants and soldiers, all arranged into neat lines.

Theodore strode up the wide steps first, mumbling quiet greetings to the official-looking assembly nearest the door.

I kept close to Agatha, eyes down, and felt entirely out of place in the face of such opulence.

My hair was undone and wild. I wore no chemise, or stays, or shoes.

I was grateful that the hem of my gown was long enough to cover my bare feet.

We slowed just inside the soaring entry hall, where Theodore was accosted by a willowy woman carrying a stack of envelopes on a silver tray. I looked around, taking in the shining details.

The gilded, frescoed ceiling. The curving black marble staircases.

One wound up to the eastern wing, the other to the western.

Pale statues of Great Gods, their beautiful, stern faces fully intact, lined the railings.

Their unseeing eyes were fierce, their hair upswept, their strong bodies carved into flowing swaths of fabric.

I searched for Ligea but could not find her.

They held candles, illuminating the risers, looking down on us with the same look of authority and self-importance that Theodore so often wore.

No one would doubt he was a God.

Lachlan turned to me. “Don’t let them intimidate you. They were a lustful, violent, pigheaded lot. You’ll fit right in.”

Agatha tsk ed before their gazes caught on one another and lingered. Lachlan beheld her with fondness, with heartbreak. He set an absent-minded hand to his chest like it ached. “My rooms are the same, Agatha.”

Agatha only gave him a sharp, cold nod, then looped her arm through mine.

Head bent, Lachlan started up the western stairs, taking them two at a time, then disappeared into the shadow of the hall.

“What the hell are you doing?” I chided. “You still love him. And he still loves you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Lachlan loves everyone. And everyone loves him. He’s charming and roguish and too witty.”

“Opposites attract.” I looked up the staircase he’d ascended. “I think he’s hurt that you’re willing to leave him again.”

“I tried to explain it to him.” She shook her head. “I told him I’d go with you when the king sends you off in search of Eusia too.”

I stiffened. That was something else entirely.

There was no way of knowing where the hunt for Eusia would take me, but it would most certainly be dangerous.

“You can’t come with me, Agatha,” I said, firmly.

“I’m hardly qualified for the task, and you have even less power than I do.

I won’t see you get hurt. I’d only blame myself for it.

” Her mouth fell open, her chest filling with a protest. “Please. You’ve looked after me for so long.

You’ve given up so much for me. You should make up for it now. ”

“I’m not sure how.” She looked overcome. I was not the only one who had been ripped from her old life, I was not the only one starting new. Selfishly, I was grateful to not be alone in the terror of it.

“Your Majesty!” A jovial voice echoed through the hall.

A stout man with a bright smile approached the king.

His face was as round as his stomach, his skin a dark, smooth brown.

His crinkled eyes were a faceted amber. “It’s good to have you back.

” He stopped before Theodore and gave him a grand bow.

“Was the Isle of Seraf just as we suspected?”

Theodore’s dark brows lowered. “There were a few surprises.”

“Ahh, well. The empress and the princess have been here for nearly two days. They’ve been content to rest and wander the gardens, but I think it would be wise to plan the negotiations directly.”

Theodore nodded. “Thank you, Eftan. Is all well with them?”

The man’s wide smile dropped ever so slightly.

He let his booming voice soften. “The empress is a woman of… high standards. I suggest the meeting be held in the Garden Room. I’ll have the servants set the table.

” His eyes brightened, and he leaned in conspiratorially.

“The princess, however, is lovely. Lucky for you.”

Theodore gave an unaffected grunt.

“And who are these young women?” Eftan set a hand to his belly, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“This is…” Theodore strained for words. “Lady Imogen Nel. She…” He gave up searching for an explanation for my existence and gestured to Agatha, absently. “And this is Commander Mela’s former wife, Agatha. She was my governess once. Perhaps you remember her.”

Eftan’s face creased with distant recognition. “Why, yes. Agatha. I believe I do remember you.” His cheeks rounded further with a full and friendly smile. “I’ll find you both comfortable rooms. Come with me.”

“Chancellor, it’s good to see you again.” Agatha’s cheeks flushed pink, and she said, “Are there any rooms available near Commander Mela’s?”

“I believe so, yes.” He gestured to a nearby maid and then Agatha was making her way up the western stairs. She gave me an unsure smile before she disappeared.

“Eftan,” Theodore said, “may I have a word?” He stepped closer to the little man and leaned in to whisper. As Theodore spoke, Eftan stood very straight, very still, then he shot me a quick, condescending look.

I choked back a groan.

Eftan gave Theodore a reverential bow. “I understand, Your Majesty.” The man faced me without meeting my eye, bowed, and offered a clipped “Good day.” Then he turned on his heel and strode from the hall, boots snapping quickly over the marble.

“What did you tell him?”

Theodore’s eyes narrowed and an uneasy warmth fell through my stomach.

“I told him to have the warships and land soldiers prepared for an attack from Seraf.” His voice had sunk so deep into his chest I could nearly feel it rumble through me.

“And I told him you would be sleeping in my room for the time being.”

“Oh.” I swallowed hard. “Did you tell him why?”

“I’ll let him draw his own conclusions. They’re likely better than the truth.” He yanked the crown from his head and started up the eastern stairs.

I fisted my skirt and all but ran up after him. “He’ll think I’m your mistress, and just as your fiancée has arrived—”

“Like I said—better than the truth. The poor man would collapse if I told him you are my blood-bound wife.”

We reached a long hall, where he led us past large windows that framed flowering gardens, vine-covered outbuildings, and the wide, glinting sea beyond the cliff. The carpet was thick and soft, but I was desperate for a pair of shoes. For stays and underclothes that fit. For a hot bath.

Theodore flung the door at the end of the hall wide open. “After you, my lady.” He stood with his back against the jamb, watching me with his chin tipped back, features hard. As I approached the threshold he stood upon, I stopped. The small space between us was charged. “You loathe me, don’t you?”

He held my gaze, features unreadable as ever, but the rise and fall of his chest increased. As did mine. Then he cocked his head toward his chamber. “Get in.”

It was as grand a space as I could have expected.

The ceiling soared, coffered and painted with the island’s flowering vines.

The entire space was dressed—unsurprisingly—in shades of green and gold.

At the center sat a bed even grander than the one on the ship.

Wide, with stairs at its side. Heavy velvet drapes hung from its towering posts.

Before an opulent mantel sat a large settee, but it was too far from the bed.

We’d have to drag it closer so we could both sleep without growing sick.

I jumped when the door slammed. Theodore brooded his way across the room, unbuttoning his coat and tossing it over the back of a chair. “Keep close,” he said, as he stepped into the washing room. I moved nearer and heard the burble and splash of water.

Crossing my arms tightly over my chest, I studied Theodore’s room closer.

There was a perilously tall stack of books on the table by his bed, one splayed open at the top, upside down to save his spot.

A delicate crystal glass and a bottle of wine sat beside them.

A desk as messy as the one on his ship sat before the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Large, lilac-colored blooms sat in a vase amid the clutter.

I itched to move closer and look at the papers there.

I found myself wondering over the shape of his writing, if it was angular and prickly, like he was toward me.

Or if perhaps he let the curling warmth he hid so well creep into its lines.

A knock sounded.

“Yes, what?” Theodore called. He emerged from the washing room shirtless, golden brown skin flecked with drops of water.

He toweled his hair, his face, and I stared dumbly at his strong, beautiful body.

His chest was hard and muscled, with a smattering of dark hair.

Divots looked like they’d been carved over his stomach, into the edges of his hips.

“Dressmaker, Your Majesty,” came a weathered voice from the other side of the door.

“Come in.” Theodore draped the towel over his wide shoulders. When the door opened and a hunched woman, black hair streaked with white, entered, Theodore smiled. “Hello, Antheia. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

The old woman giggled, chiming and unaware as a young girl would be. Slowly, she pushed a cart of hanging gowns into the room. She stopped and bobbed into a wobbly curtsy.

“None of that,” Theodore said. That devastating smile of his dimpled his left cheek. “Let me.” He took the cart from her and rolled it into the middle of the room. “I’m sorry to rush you, but the lady needs to be dressed quickly. Something subtle if you don’t mind.”

The old woman, Antheia, glanced at me and shuffled toward the cart. “Subtle!” Her dark, deeply wrinkled eyes twinkled. “Pity. I’ll see what I can do.”