Nira wiped the steam off the mirror, biting her lip. Sleeping in the same room as Elrath wasn't up for debate—it was happening.
A part of her was relieved. A much louder part was clammy with nerves. She had never even slept beside a boy, let alone a man. A man like Elrath—who, by the way, wasn't even human.
She bathed quickly, dried off, and froze at the sound of a voice—low, muffled, and unmistakably agitated.
After slipping into the clothes Elrath had given her, she stepped out quietly.
He wasn't alone.
He was talking to someone—someone in the mirror.
Nira blinked. Prince Cresav's reflection was in the glass, alive and moving like he was standing right there.
An enchanted mirror, she thought, heart skipping.
Elrath turned toward her without surprise. Cresav saw her too.
"Nira, come here," the prince said, gesturing.
Elrath's head snapped in his direction. "Don't."
Cresav ignored him. "Come."
Under Elrath's gaze, her legs felt like wet clay, but she moved anyway.
"I'm sorry about what happened today, Nira," Cresav said, his tone heavy enough to weigh her chest down. "But there's something you need to know."
She glanced at Elrath. He wouldn't meet her eyes.
She frowned, nodding cautiously at the prince.
"You know the story. Your kind was accused of stealing the Srevig."
She nodded. That was the reason she was here, after all.
"Well, it was a lie. The Srevig wasn't stolen."
"What?" Her voice cracked. "What do you mean it wasn't stolen? Then why am I here?"
Did the King know? Had all of Koetryr been played?
"It's missing," Cresav clarified. "But no one from Koetryr took it."
That only made her head spin faster.
"But—"
"I told you we shouldn't have told her, Cresav," Elrath cut in. His gaze on her was unreadable—tight, closed off.
She flared. "Why shouldn't he tell me? I deserve to know why my life was ripped apart! Someone's after me now, and none of this even makes sense!"
Elrath rolled his eyes. "You didn't exactly have much of a life, if we're being honest."
Her cheeks burned. "It was my life, Elrath. Mine! And now look at me. No family. No friends. Just enemies—and a husband who treats me like a burden. But yeah, you're right. I had nothing."
She turned to leave, but his hand clamped around her wrist.
"You're not leaving this room, Nira."
His voice was flat. That made it worse.
"Watch me," she snapped, yanking her hand free.
"You shouldn't have said that, El," Cresav's voice came, sharp with disapproval.
Nira's heart clenched. Why couldn't it have been him instead?
She barely made it two doors down before Elrath appeared in front of her.
She tried to move past him.
"I'm sorry," he said, so quietly she almost didn't hear.
"What was that?" Her brow lifted, arms crossed.
He exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. "I'm sorry for being insensitive, Nira."
She nearly laughed. "Did Cresav put you up to this?"
His eyes cut to her, dark and annoyed. "You must be enjoying this."
She shrugged. "A little."
He sighed, the kind that sounded like surrender.
"Anyway, I'm sorry."
She tilted her head. "Then why won't you give me your blood?"
He groaned. "Why do you keep asking me that?"
"Because—" she shrugged, "—I realized your magical blood is the only way to conceal my scent. I hate how they look at me after they smell me. And I need to read Cresav's book. I don't think it's nonsense like you keep saying."
He didn't reply immediately. A silence stretched, taut and strange.
"Elrath?"
He finally spoke, voice lower than before. "Giving you my blood isn't as simple as you think."
"Why not? It sounds simple."
He looked away. "Because taking my blood marks you as mine, Nira."
She stilled.
"Really?"
He nodded once.
"Well then... do it."
His gaze snapped to hers. His eyes were glowing now.
He shut them tightly, exhaled, and when he opened them again, the glow was gone.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
She nodded.
"I'm your wife, remember? I'm already yours."
His jaw tensed, but he stepped toward her anyway.