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Chapter thirty-seven

D imitri spent the next few hours admiring his feral neva.

Viktor crafted her a stunning gray dress with flowing sleeves.

It was an amalgam of their kingdoms’ fashions.

She proudly wore her gold pauldron and lotus belt over the sleek dress.

Warmth settled in his chest as he gazed at her. She was a vision—one befitting a queen.

The pair discussed garments and materials, sampling the plethora of swatches Viktor traveled with.

He took her measurements and curated notes as she toured his creations.

If she planned on wearing Clorea’s royal attire, he would need Keres to imbue her metalwork with heat to keep his little wife from catching a chill.

Astrid returned to him as Viktor carefully notated final details his pocketbook a step behind her.

He tapped the point of his pen in the book and snapped it shut.

“I think that’s everything. I’ll have your wardrobe delivered in three days’ time,” he said to Astrid before turning toward Dimitri and adding, “and a footman will deliver your suit this evening.”

Dimitri nodded and stood. Astrid took to his side without his prompting and the warmth that had settled in his chest radiated through his soul. She’d accepted her place with him.

“Thank you, it was wonderful meeting you, Viktor. I hope to meet your family one day,” she said with a genuine sweetness Dimitri had never heard.

Viktor bowed and placed his hand over his chest. “It would be our honor.”

Dimitri inclined his head at his clothier and led Astrid into the hall.

“His clothes are beautiful. How did you two meet?”

Gifts were apparently the way to his princess’s heart. She fell in step beside him, so close her fingers brushed his as they walked. He caught her hand, and she hesitated for the briefest moment before interlacing her fingers with his.

“Ambrose selected one of Viktor’s suits for his coming of age ceremony. I had the garment burned and appointed Viktor as my personal clothier,” Dimitri recounted.

“How do you hold so much say here?” Astrid paused, seemingly mulling over her thoughts. He remained silent. In a muted whisper, she pushed further, “This isn’t your court and you’re not the King.”

The bitter exclusion of his birthright iced over his composure like a winter frost on glass. This wasn’t his court, and he would never be king. His father reminded him often enough before he found his death beneath Dimitri’s bloodied fists.

Dimitri gazed down at the lithe female beside him. He didn’t need his birthright. Cursed blood ran through his veins. “The question you should be asking isn’t why my word holds sway, but who among them could stop me?”

“If no one could stop you, why aren’t you king, my lord?” she asked sweetly.

They reached the end of the hall and stepped onto the balcony. The unforgiving chill cooled his wrath and Astrid stepped into his side. “Come. I’ll return us to our room,” he said, lifting her into his arms.

She clung to his neck as a winter-kissed flush spread across her cheeks. He started toward the railing.

“I’d prefer to walk,” she stammered. “Dimitri, put me down.”

She squeezed to him tighter, burying her face in his throat as he stepped onto the railing. He should have flown here. Now, he had no intention of walking through the crowd of nobles who vied for his brother’s favor and attention.

He pressed his lips to her forehead and murmured, “It’s a short flight, neva.”

Dimitri lifted off the railing with a powerful beat of his wings and smoothly glided along the eastern wall of the palace.

He suspected she wasn’t used to the weightless feel of falling and spared her the sensation.

She didn’t loosen her strangling grip, but she lifted her head a fraction, watching the pines peek over the outer wall as they passed.

He pumped his wings, gaining height, and his little wife jerked in his arms. He chuckled and squeezed her closer. “I won’t drop you.”

Astrid remained stiff as they crested the palace’s outer walls and softly landed in his private green space. He gently set her on her feet and Graymalkin burst from the snow-covered bushes with a weathered leaf in his mouth. He bounded to Astrid, and she cradled him as she hurried to the window.

“Have you brought me a gift, my fearless hunter?” she laughed, taking the crunchy leaf from his mouth. Graymalkin purred loudly, content with the pets and snuggles Astrid provided.

Dimitri followed her into their room. She bent forward to place his oversized white cat on the foot of their bed and he couldn’t help but admire her ass.

The cut of the silk dress accentuated her curves beautifully.

He would ask Viktor to make her a shorter, sleeveless version of this dress in red with lace over her breasts.

Dimitri’s thoughts were interrupted when Astrid prowled toward him.

Her fingertips slid down his chest in a smooth caress and he grew hard in an instant.

Mischief glittered in her midnight eyes as she asked, “Do you think you could convince an earth weaver and a fire weaver to create a fruit garden for your wife?”

He smiled and stroked her cheek. “Always the stars with you.”

She hooked her finger between the buttons of his shirt. “My blood belongs to Clorea. We could take it... Rule side by side.”

Her words shocked and subdued him in equal measure. She’d offered him a crown. A title and seat in exchange for securing her kingdom. This was transactional. It didn’t mean she wanted him. Dimitri smothered his soft feelings, even as a small, desperate part of him clung to the sentiment.

It was more than he’s ever been offered... More than he deserved.

Dimitri smoothed his thumb over her lips, willing them to speak the truth instead of honeyed lies.

“If I had your loyalty, wife, I would lay the very stars at your feet.”

She smiled against the pad of his thumb and took his hand in hers. Anticipation scraped beneath his skin as she traced the scar binding them. Her breath caressed the top of his hand, and the touch of her lips followed. A reverent kiss.

A promise.

Her midnight eyes lifted to meet his.

“Place the Serpents’ Crown on my head and I will be yours as long as you breathe, husband.”