He came to gloat, leaning against the doorway with a barely checked grin. “We Vrekeners find cold water’s good for the mind and body.”

“Oh? That’s a shame—because hot water’s good for morning sex.”

His eyes flickered. “I’ll warm you up. . . .”

Some time later, when they emerged, Lanthe was a cold-water convert. Now she was grinning like a boss.

After she dried off, she reached for her clothes from the night before. Full regalia. Including the mask.

The beauty of metal and leather garments? Easy cleaning. She tugged on her skirt.

“Shall I find you some gowns?” he asked as he dressed again.

She studied his face. “You can, but I won’t wear them until I have them altered.” Lanthe had lived through the Victorian age; out of necessity, she’d learned how to transform a high-necked, floor-length, long-sleeved gown into a proper sleeveless minidress. Or, rather, to give directions for someone else to. “I’ll feel more comfortable in my own clothes.”

He parted his lips, hesitated, then said, “Very well.”

Good man, she thought again. “I feared we were about to have our first married fight.” She slipped on her top. As far as Sorceri clothing went, the outfit wasn’t even that provocative. Her hemline almost reached her knees. Her boots did, so little of her legs would be exposed.

“I know how much you compromised to come here with me,” he said. “I want to meet you halfway. Besides, if you scream at me, it should only be because you’re about to erupt/explode/die with ecstasy.”

“In other words, later today?” She reached forward to cup him between the legs, loving how he rocked on his toes to her hand.

When he groaned, she released him with an affectionate pat.

She donned her boots and gauntlets, then did a quick job braiding her hair. Thronos watched her every movement with undisguised fascination.

“Grab my necklace?”

He hastened to get it, returning to lace it over her head. “I kick myself for not giving you this sooner.”

“Well, we were a mite preoccupied with dragons and demons and pests and all. I treasure it as if you presented it to me—since you put your life at risk to retrieve it. Even if it weren’t silisk gold, it would always be my favorite.”

“Sorceri exchange rings with marriage, do they not?”

She whirled around. “Yes, I want a ring! A gold one, with extra gold.”

His lips curled. “When my mate sets her heart on something, who am I to deny her?”

With an answering grin, she slipped on her mask. “Okay, then, let’s go get this over with.”

He offered his hand; she proudly took it.

The moment they walked out the door, a Vrekener male greeted them, as if he’d been loitering just outside. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a rangy build like Thronos’s, he had olive-green eyes and sandy brown hair tied in a queue.

Lanthe stiffened when she saw his silvered talons. A knight. She wondered how many Sorceri he’d killed. Or neutered?

“Greetings, Jasen!” Thronos said. “I didn’t think anyone knew we’d arrived.”

Lanthe frowned at Jasen’s reaction to Thronos; the male’s pensive expression had turned to one of abject relief, the way one might look when handing over a ponderous weight—or a rabid animal.

“Melanthe, this is Jasen,” he said, introducing the man to her first, showing her deference. “Jasen, this is Princess Melanthe, my bride.”

“You . . . you have her.”

Lanthe didn’t offer her hand. Because it was glimmering blue behind her back.

After a moment, Jasen appeared to shake away his shock at this development. He turned to Thronos. “My liege, the knights have assembled in the Hall for an important security meeting. Will you attend?”

“Is my brother here?”

“No, my liege, I’m afraid he’s not.”

Thronos was calm and cool on the outside, but now that she knew him better she could see that his scars were a touch lighter, which meant his face was tense.

—I’m sorry, Thronos. I know you’d wanted to get something settled with Aristo.—

—Gods only know what he’s up to out in the worlds.— To Jasen, he said, “Melanthe and I will attend.” Hand in hand, they followed the knight down the steps to the sandy vale. —In this assembly, I will not tolerate disrespect to you. Remember that you are their princess.—

Talk about a trial by fire! She drew her sorcery close. —I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go. What if the meeting is about my presence here? What if I’m in danger?—

He glanced at the power swirling around her. —You can take care of yourself. Just try not to hurt anybody.—

—Ha.—

—You know I’d slay them all before I let them touch a hair on your head.—

On the hills above them, Vrekeners stopped their daily routines to stare down at her.

What would Sabine do in this situation? Her sister would put her shoulders back and never let anyone forget she was a noble daughter of the Sorceri. Lanthe would do no less. To those who stared the most boldly, she inclined her head with a regal air.

Of course, she could understand their interest. Her garments must shock them, plus she had sorcery around her. Not to mention her one-of-a-kind, priceless necklace. She defied any female not to secretly pine for it.

The Vrekener males all wore white lawn shirts and leather breeches. Each female’s dress was drab and baggy, revealing only her face and hands. Their wings were pinned so tightly, one would think the Vrekeners were embarrassed by them. These people absolutely looked like they had quiet, boring sex.