“That may not be how you meant things to go, but that’s how it ended up,” Raff said. “You don’t win points for good intentions.”
She set her teeth, so it was tough to get the words out. “I don’t require your advice.”
“I can tell it’s a touchy subject, so never mind. Can you show me to my room?”
She choked back the words ‘if you’d gone with Lileth, I wouldn’t have to’ and offered a cordial nod. “This way, please.”
An awkward silence fell as she left the dining hall and guided him through the stone hallways. Raff rubbed his hands over his arms. “Damn chilly. I should go wolf.”
“Do as you please,” she muttered. “Here we are.” Thalia threw open the door and swept an arm, indicating the room, already lit with solar lamps. “If you’re cold, I can have a fire lit in the hearth.”
“How delightfully archaic, but I can build my own blaze, should I desire one.” The wolf sent her a look that she gathered was meant to be seductive.
She ignored the innuendo. “I suppose you should know something about woodcraft. Good night, then.”
Thalia left without looking back and by the time she got to her room, Lileth was there waiting for her. “It’s a good thing the wolves didn’t bring more honor guards,” she said.
“Did everyone seem comfortable enough?” Half of Daruvar wasn’t fit for habitation, but she wouldn’t have it said that Eldritch hospitality was lacking, even under such haphazard circumstances.
Lil hesitated. “I had to send four of their folks to the barracks. Be prepared to hear complaints in the morning.”
A strain of bias ran through her people, and some of them looked down on the Animari. She had to make it clear that she would give no space to such sentiments. While she wished she had a better solution than Raff Pineda, that was a personality preference. Under ideal circumstances, she would choose someone measured and rational, not a hot-tempered scoundrel. His attachment to Magda Versai hadn’t escaped her notice, either.
Already she had questions; those two were close in Ash Valley and it was impossible not to wonder if Magda was the mistress she would contend with long-term, provided this marriage went through. Overall, it seemed more probable that the woman was the first of many, as the wolf lord didn’t seem like the loyal sort. Their relationship would likely be for show, displayed primarily on formal occasions. A pang went through her, a fleeting wish that things could be different, but Thalia shook her head, putting the issue aside. She didn’t need fidelity as part of their arrangement.
Still, she fought a tide of weariness as she said, “I always am. It all worked out, at least.”
Lil always saw more than she let on. Her neutral response revealed none of her private conclusions. “You should get some rest. It will be a long day tomorrow.”
Normally, she would ignore such suggestions and work until her eyes shut at her desk, but Lileth had a point. She needed to be both clearheaded and charming when she took Raff on a tour of the fortress first thing the next morning. Her aide had already put together a sample schedule of how she could best dedicate her time before they settled into the serious business of negotiating the marriage contract.
Thalia muttered an assent as Lileth left her quarters. The room still didn’t feel familiar, as she hadn’t been staying here long, and the gray stones held fast to the last of winter’s chill, despite spring relative proximity. She threw the heavy maroon curtains wide to let in a faint trickle of moonlight and for a moment, she stared up at the starry sky. Thalia knew she shouldn’t be weary so early in the game, but she had been fighting silently, slowly, for decades already.
Her heart ached too; there had been no opportunity to mourn her father’s death. Her followers wouldn’t understand that even if he had been venal and wrong, he’d still given her life, and before he passed the point of no return, he’d taught her to play Kingcross and always read epic poems aloud at her bedside when she couldn’t sleep. Now, he was known as the maniac who had betrayed his people, the Pax Protocols, and allied with a murderous despot, killing his own in the process. Thalia might never be able to overcome that legacy because the Eldritch had long memories.
Sighing, she changed into her pajamas—utilitarian blue cotton that might surprise anyone who expected greater elegance—when a soft tap sounded. Thalia opened the door, expecting to find Gavriel with a list of issues that couldn’t wait. Instead, it was Raff Pineda, leaning on the opposite wall with a bottle of wine tucked under one arm. He sauntered forward, offering a crooked smile like a flower bouquet.
“You look like you need a drink. And I owe you an apology. It’s one thing to be feckless, another to be unkind.”
It was impossible to be elegant or dignified in bare feet and blue pajamas, so she settled for returning an icy stare, ignoring his peace offering. “We haven’t yet come to an agreement, and we are not in a relationship where such informality is permissible. Therefore, this is…” She couldn’t find a word that encompassed both the audacity and impoliteness, so she settled for, “Rude.”
“Lady Silver, I never would’ve guessed that you’re such a stickler for the proprieties.”
“Why do you insist on calling me that?”
“You are a lady and your hair is like molten silver,” he said, sounding so reasonable that for a few seconds, Thalia felt like a dimwit for asking. Then he added with disarming perception, “Plus, I thought it might trouble you to be addressed by your surname.”
Damn it, he was right. Until she redeemed House Talfayen, she certainly didn’t want to hear the name on anyone’s lips. “You may call me Princess Thalia.”
A smirk curled his mouth as he ambled past her into the bedroom. “Who’s crowned you?
