Stolen Shadow Bride by S.M. Gaither

Author:S.M. Gaither [Gaither, S.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-28T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

When Sephia carried their food outside a short time later, she found that Tarron had wandered off to the adjacent gardens in search of flowers. While she arranged the plates and food, he arranged those flowers in a pitcher in the table’s center. He worked without comment, all the while still wearing his usual brooding, serious frown. He appeared determined not to fail at this the way he’d failed at boiling water.

Sephia watched him with a bemused little smile on her face.

He’d given her a ring, and now flowers, too.

Monsters can give gifts, she stubbornly reminded herself. It doesn’t truly make them any less monstrous. You still need to be careful.

They ate in relative silence, recovering from the various kitchen catastrophes and enjoying the warm sunshine. Several servants checked in on them while they dined. Tarron waved them all away, telling them he wanted to eat with his bride in private, which made Sephia’s confused thoughts race even faster.

Rude awakening aside, this morning had felt entirely too…nice.

Because of that privacy Tarron requested, once they were finished, the mess in the kitchen remained. Sephia tried to help take care of it—her mentor had always taught her that cleaning up was part of cooking, like it or not—but this was where the prince finally drew the line.

My wife can be a cook, he insisted, but not a kitchen slave.

So they left the mess to the servants and then strolled together through Solturne Hall. They were close enough to hold hands, but Sephia didn’t trust herself to do this. She kept her arms wrapped tightly around her middle as they walked.

They passed several others—nobles and servants alike—who bowed and then watched them with unabashed curiosity. Sephia did not focus on their faces, but rather on the twists and turns of the hallways, and on the various rooms they passed. She needed to better memorize this place for practical, related-to-her-mission reasons.

Nevertheless, her eyes kept being drawn to less practical things. To the gold-framed works of art. To the wall sconces that flickered with various-colored flames. To the soaring ceilings, the marble statues tucked in seemingly every nook, and the windows that gave glimpses of gardens so beautiful they made her mouth fall open.

She had scarcely left her room over the past three days, and never so early as this; the morning light bathed things in a glow that made her feel as if she had never woken up from her cloud-filled dreams. She had grown up in a palace of her own. She was used to splendor. But…

What would it be like to wake up every morning and stroll through these halls?

Why did this feel so different from home?

Because it’s drenched in dangerous fae magic, came the harsh reply from her smarter, more sensible side.

They reached one of the spiraling staircases that led to the second floor, and Tarron paused at the foot of it and said, “You were right, earlier, you know.”

“About what?”

“I like order. I like…calm.”

She glanced over at him.

“And you are…”

“Chaos?” she supplied.

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