I watch in stunned disbelief as the Dwarf gathers her into his arms, hugging her tightly to his chest.
Is this her lover? A Dwarf?
I crouch in the brush and observe from the shadows.
“You cannot marry a High Elf,” the Dwarf insists, panic flitting across his features. “They are as cold as they are cruel. How could your father agree to this match?”
How dare he? He acts as though I’m some unscrupulous thief, come to steal the king’s daughter.
“He didn’t, Bran. He has left the decision up to me. I must marry the prince to ensure peace between our kingdoms and avoid further bloodshed.”
“No, you don’t!” he snaps. “I will not let you!”
She pushes away from him. “Can’t you see? I have no choice.”
He clenches his jaw, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Why did you come here if you’re already resigned to your fate?”
“Your people have more dealings with the High Elves than mine do. I want to know more about the blood bond. I’ve heard only rumors my entire life.”
Bran’s mouth drifts open as he blinks at her. “He proposed a blood bond with you? Not a simple marriage?”
“What is the difference?” she asks. “I thought they were the same.”
He huffs out a breath. “Hardly.” Gripping her shoulders, he pulls her close, running a hand over her long black hair. “He probably means to take you during the Wild Hunt as well.”
“The Wild Hunt?”
“Aye,” he says. “It’s a barbaric practice where the male chases the female and claims her roughly beneath the stars during the Hunter’s Moon.”
I swallow thickly. She does not appear pleased. If she were a High Elf, she would think it an honor that I have offered such a bond, but apparently, humans do not feel the same.
“Stay here, Lyana. You do not have to marry that monster.”
“I cannot, Bran. I must marry him for the sake of my subjects. I simply need to know what this prince is like. I’ve only ever heard dark tales and rumors of the High Elves. They’ve been our enemies for so long… I had never even seen one up close until today.”
I watch as another Dwarf jogs up beside them. Noticing her obvious distress, concern twists his face. “Lyana, what’s wrong?”
“She’s to be married off to Prince Caelen of Rivenyl, Rob,” Bran states flatly.
“No,” he breathes, his expression nothing short of devastated. “Not the High Elves.”
Her shoulders shake with sobs as Bran runs a hand soothingly down her back.
My upper lip curls into a snarl, my fangs extend into sharpened points, and my deadly claws emerge, aching to rend his flesh from his bones for daring to touch she who is to become my mate.
Rob pats her back. “We can hide you, Lyana. Our people will protect you.”
“I won’t let you do it,” Bran states firmly. “You cannot sacrifice yourself in this way.”
“I have to do this. And yes, I am afraid, but the prince has not threatened me,” she says. “I’m simply nervous because I know nothing about him or his people beyond the distressing stories I have heard all my life. I did not come here to seek protection. I came because I needed a friend’s support.”
Friend. I’m surprised at how suddenly my shoulders relax when this word leaves her mouth. I feared he was her lover or secret betrothed. Although, I do not know why it should matter to me. If she were already promised to another, would it not free me of the obligation to marry for peace?
Something inside me, however, realizes a disturbing truth. It matters because, from the moment I first looked upon her, I was enthralled. And I already knew the decision she would make. Determination was written in the tense set of her shoulders, the way she met my gaze, her fisted hands at her sides. She was trying to calm her fears.
This woman has already resolved to bind herself to me for the good of her kingdom. The princess is not the spoiled and pampered human girl I expected. No—she is a selfless leader.
The moment our eyes met, I already considered her mine. Fierce possessiveness rushes through my veins. No mere Dwarf will keep my bride from me.
