Page 17 of Till Death

Rolling, I crashed into him, throwing a punch to his ribs before stealing, not one, but two of his blades, which were exactly where I’d predicted they were. I grabbed his right foot and cranked it sideways until he twisted enough for me to yank the boot free and dump the third blade.

“At least you were smart enough to come armed, Icky.”

“I’m beginning to hate that nickname,” he growled, moving into position once more, something far darker passing across his face. “What’s the score?”

“Three for me, three for you.”

He tsked, opening his fist to reveal the serrated arrowhead I had sewn into the inside liner of my sleeve. Raising my arm, I cursed, studying the fresh slice into my favorite shirt. That clever asshole.

“I hate you more now than I did five seconds ago.”

He inched forward. “Which of us are you trying to convince you’re not having fun?”

He was right, and that pissed me off, too. My world had been a constant rotation of disappointing people for as long as I could remember. This was foreign. And enjoyable. And for just a second, I let myself wish there could be a sliver of hope and light in my future.

The new king moved closer again, a dare in his eyes as he reached for Chaos.

I hesitated for only a second before bringing a swift fist down on his forearm. “You’ll have to pry that one from my cold, dead fingers.”

“And this one?” he asked, pointing to the throwing knife still in place at my shoulder.

I twisted my lips into a smirk. “Try, King.”

He matched my smile, and something sparked between us. Something I felt so strongly that I could barely hide the tiny gasp.

My back collided with the wall. He’d been stalking, and I’d been inching away without realizing, too consumed by his effortless distractions. He pressed his chest into me, and I shoved him, but his muscled body didn’t budge an inch. That cocky smile returned, lighting his eyes. There were probably a hundred things I could have done to escape the arms that caged me in. But this was supposed to be a test.

“You’re making me uncomfortable.”

He searched my eyes before simply dropping his hands and stepping away. “I’m sorry.”

My heart thundered in my chest, betraying all my emotions. He’d passed. And I think I wanted him to. Not because I was thrilled to marry a perfect stranger, but because tomorrow I would stand beside a man that didn’t tremble at the thought of marrying me. If I never laid in his bed or shared a meal with him, that was fine. If he didn’t come for advice on running his kingdom or share secrets with me, if we didn’t walk the gardens hand in hand or spend a night in front of a fire telling stories, I could live with that. As long as he could look me in the eye when we passed in the halls, as long as he wasn’t my enemy from the second we became bonded, I could handle it.

“Take the blade,” I whispered.

He pulled the weapon at my shoulder in slow motion. Our gazes locked. The clatter to the floor didn’t break the spell, nor did his bare knuckles brushing my arm where my shirt had been ripped. “I will replace your shirt. You have my word.”

“After I marry you,” I said, letting the moon-bathed world around us fade away.

“If you’ll marry me,” he corrected, lowering his voice.

“You haven’t fully disarmed me, King,” I said with no conviction whatsoever. Because in truth, he’d been flawlessly chipping away at my armor the whole time.

Ro’s words echoed in my mind.

It doesn’t matter who you marry, you get to start over. Fall in love.

I didn’t know love. I’d hardly known kindness. But here, my future stood before me, wishing only for me, despite our titles and circumstances. How could I deny him tonight and marry him tomorrow when he’d so readily offered me something I was secretly desperate for?

“Tell me what is happening in that pretty head of yours, Princess Deyanira Sariah Hark, Death’s Maiden, heir to the throne of Perth.”

“I don’t trust you enough to share my thoughts.”

“I am definitely a scoundrel,” he said, handing me the little arrowhead. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”

I bit my bottom lip, holding out one of his knives. “You’re also hideous to look at.”

“And I chew with my mouth open,” he countered.