Page 34 of The Dark Prince
“I will return.”
Tyr took his leave rather abruptly, leaving me alone in the massive four-poster bed. I blew a sign out through my lips and laid back, closing my eyes. He returned quickly enough after a few minutes, free of blood and wearing an extremely simple cotton shift with clean leather overtop. I sat up on the bed.
He laid a powder blue day dress next to me, along with an under slip, boots, and leggings. It impressed me he remembered all the parts. He stared at the marriage cords on the bed.
“Dress.”
Tyr stepped away to sit on the couch by the fireplace, his back to me. Inwardly, I rolled my eyes and let the towel drop to the floor. Tyr’s hands clenched around the arm of the sofa, but his back was rigid as he stared resolutely into the flames. The man was more stubborn than the cold.
Quickly, I dressed, pulling my under slip over my head and letting it fall to my knees. My leggings weren’t as thick as the ones the villagers had given me, but they were thick enough to ward off the chill that seemed constantly in this large, black stone castle.
The boots came next, soft and just my size. The main dress was beautiful, but had a row of complicated buttons that went all the way from the small of my back to my neck. I struggled for an entire minute before giving up.
I crossed the distance between Tyr and I, plopping myself down on the armrest of his chair and turning my back to him. “Do you mind? It’s impossible, and you sent my help away.”
He grunted, then his large fingers came up and deftly worked the ties on the buttons, making quick work of it. My eyes closed as the feeling of his hands skittering up my back felt soothing, and I unconsciously leaned into him. When the last button looped, he didn’t pull away, but instead his hand lingered, his fingers trailing along the edge of my braid as his thumb pressed into the back of my neck.
“The king is here,” I said softly, still scarcely believing it myself.
“Yes, my father is here,” he admitted, his fingers reaching up to tangle and pull the gathered hair that wasn’t in my braid. He pulled me back against him and down on his lap.
“He knew you’d try to thwart him. He sent me to kill me. You took an arrow meant for me.”
I couldn’t move as he bent down, the cold surface of his mask scraping against my flesh. I heard him take in my scent, even as his grip on me tightened. I felt the scratch of his stubble against the back of my neck, and shivered with anticipation. His lips were soft against my teeth, until I felt something harder scrape down the side of my throat. His teeth.
“That is a mighty accusation, wife.”
Oh no. He was angry with me. Oh, well—in for a penny, in for a pound. “The king ordered that man to attack us and kill me. You saved my life.”
Tyr froze, so close that I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Don’t read into it. I was doing my duty to protect you. Nothing more.”
The words were like a bucket of ice being thrown over me. I stiffened, and he pulled back. I twisted myself in his lap until I straddled his legs, facing down that golden stare with my indignation. I put my nose right up against his false one, showing no fear of his mask or him. He’d never hurt me, even though I knew he could kill in cold blood. I was willing to take a chance that he cared about me. If not, all I was risking was looking like a fool; an easy price to pay.
“You know what I think, my lord?” I tangled a hand in his hair, not missing how his pupils dilated as I raked my fingers through his scalp. I bent close to his ear, my teeth scraping against the delicate cartilage. His hand found my thigh and squeezed painfully, but it only egged me on.
“I think you’re a liar.”
This man could kill me five different ways without breaking a sweat, and yet I couldn’t resist pushing his buttons. He was tightly controlled aggression and chaos, and I was poking the bear. I wanted his fury and pain. I wanted it unleashed on me. At least it would be honest, instead of his cold, calculated mask and how he hid behind his sense of duty.
“Blindfold me again. I liked it.”
He jerked at the sudden non sequitur. His eyes closed and he shook at the reminder, and his gaze was hazy as he opened his eyes and stared at me. My fingers ran through his hair, and came away with spots of blood on them.
“Have you bathed yet? Take your turn.” I hopped off his lap and undid the clasp on his tunic. His gaze ignited a fire in my body as he sat there and watched me undress him, moving his arms out of the holes so he sat in his white undershirt. The left shoulder of it was stained brown and red with blood and the remnants of a poultice. He hadn’t changed completely when he went to my room.
I reached for it, and he grabbed my wrist. His entire body was a tight coil of tension, and he was balling and unballing his hands into fists, over and over again.
“Enough. Go down to the great hall. The king wishes a proper word with you before he leaves.”
Even his voice sounded darker, and almost feral.
Shame and fear rushed through my veins as I remembered how I’d fled like a child in the king’s presence. It was on the tip of my tongue to ask Tyr to come with me; wouldn’t the man who sent his dogs after me be dangerous for me to be around alone?
I wouldn’t disobey Tyr. I wanted to please him, and I had acted a bit like a ninny earlier. I owed it to him as his wife to be a good representative, and make a decent impression on the king. So I stood and gave a meek little bow. “Yes, my lord.”
Anger flashed in his eyes, and in the next moment he’d fallen down to his knees, and pulled me with him. “You never bow to me. You fall on your knees to no one. Not even the king. Do you understand?”
