Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139662 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 698(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
“Next,” Finn says when I’m all dried off, “the flowers.” Standing, he begins to pull the flowers from my hair, dropping the buds into the bowl of herbed water he used to wash me. When he pulls the last one free, he passes the bowl to the horned male from earlier, then sweeps me into his arms.
I squeak and throw my arms around his neck. Finn grins, and the crowd cheers.
“Is this really necessary?” I whisper in his ear.
“Relax and enjoy it, Princess. It’s tradition.” He carries me around the fire and then to a large tent behind it, but when he reaches the door, he doesn’t carry me through. Instead he turns to the horned male, who’s waiting behind us with the bowl of water, herbs, and flowers.
The male bows his head and murmurs a few words over the water, then offers it to us.
“If you will, Princess?” Finn asks softly.
I release one hand from behind his neck to take the bowl.
The male smiles and reaches for a shovel from beside the tent. The soil is soft and loose as he digs, murmuring something in a language I don’t recognize.
Once the hole is several feet deep, he steps back and drops to a knee.
I look to Finn.
His face is solemn. “Now you pour the contents of the bowl into the earth.” He shifts me in his arms, making it easier for me to aim as I pour.
As I overturn the bowl, a rush of power tingles through me, and when Finn draws in a sharp breath, I know he feels it too.
“May the gods bless you, your queen, and your children, Your Majesty,” the kneeling male says.
“Thank you, Dunnick,” Finn says, and then he steps over the muddy pits of flowers and herbs and into the tent, letting the flaps fall closed behind him.
The tent is larger than I expected. Tall enough even for Finn to stand. In its center, a large cushion the size of our bed at Juliana’s manor sits on the floor, piled with soft blankets. There’s a chair in the corner, with two piles of clothes atop it—his and hers.
“You can put me down now,” I tell Finn.
He studies me for a long, intense moment, and I think he might kiss me, but then he lowers me to my feet.
When he steps back, his breathing is uneven and his gaze goes to the floor. “I need to check in with Misha and Pretha and make sure everything is set for our visit to the sacred spring this afternoon. A servant will be in soon to draw you a warm bath; then you might consider a nap. Today’s ride through the mountains won’t be an easy one.”
“Okay,” I say softly. I feel him pulling away and wish he wouldn’t. The ache in my heart seems too big to stay contained in my chest. “I don’t want Sebastian,” I blurt.
Finn’s head snaps up, his eyes wide, as if he’s surprised I said it. I am too, if I’m honest, but that doesn’t make it any less true.
“You’ve made comments—more than once—implying that I’m eager for some sort of reunion with him.”
“I saw you kissing him,” he says softly. There’s no judgment in his voice.
I swallow. “That was a mistake. He caught me off guard, and the bond made it . . .”
He closes his eyes, as if this explanation makes it worse. “I imagine it was quite intense with the bond. I’ve heard . . .” He sighs and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter why you kissed him or if you plan to do it again. Contrary to any comments I may have made that day or after, it’s not my business.”
“Maybe not, but I wanted you to know. Nothing’s changed since the day I left the Golden Palace. He deceived me twice, Finn.” I shrug. “I’m not sure if our relationship could ever come back from that. Even if I wanted it to.”
He cocks his head to the side and stares at me. “Why’s that?”
Because he’s not you. Because I can’t stop thinking about our kiss or the way you comforted me last night. Because though my bond with Sebastian might heighten the things I feel about and with him, none of it compares to the way I feel when I’m close to you.
But I don’t tell him any of that. Finn’s been honest about what he wants—about his motivations and his priorities. He’s attracted to me, yes, and maybe he’d even welcome me into his bed. But he’s here for his people, not for me, and it’s not fair for me to wish for anything different from him. “I don’t trust anyone,” I finally say.
Finn nods and turns to leave, but he stops with his hand on the tent flap. He doesn’t turn around as he speaks. “You can trust me, you know. I realize my word doesn’t mean much to you, but it’s still true.”