Page 88 of Their Wicked Cage

“And what’s that?” I match his tone, his control.

He pivots abruptly, stalking back to the castle, calling out over his shoulder, “Go get changed. We’re all going out for dinner.”

Miriya jumps up and down beside me. “Oh, my gods!” she squeals. “Gwyn, he fancies you!”

My heart pinches. “I don’t think so.”

“But he called you ‘little witch,’” she says as if that means anything, her smile widening.

He’s been calling me that since the moment we met, and he certainly didn’t fancy me when I cracked him upside the head with a skillet.

Of course, I can’t tell her any of this, and thankfully, I don’t have to because Lyrielle’s eyes narrow into two venomous slits as she says, “So, I wasn’t going to say anything, but he called me ‘little siren’ during one of our dates.” She pouts. “I fear he does it because he can’t keep track of all of our names.”

She lifts a shoulder and walks away.

“Between you and me,” Miriya says quietly, staring after Lyrielle as she exits the gardens, “I’m still holding out hope he fancies one of us two the most.”

I reach for her hand and give it a gentle squeeze. “I hope it’s you.”

No, you don’t, a tiny voice whispers in the back of my mind. You hope he chooses you.

Even though I’ve been lying to everyone else, I still can’t seem to lie to myself.

Chapter 23

RIVEN

It takes an hour to gather the brides and settle them into a small fleet of gilded carriages and another fifteen minutes of weaving through Eleutheria’s crowded streets before we come to a stop outside the Midnight Swan—my favorite cookshop.

Tucked between two crooked buildings and perfumed with smoke and spice, the Midnight Swan is beloved for its quick and delicious meals and elevated back-alley charm.

Before we left the palace, I sent attendants ahead with word of our sudden visit, hoping they could prepare for us. I’d been resigned to another dull meal in the dining hall—until I overheard Gwyn. She spoke of wanting to be loved by the people… and by me.

The sentiment lodged in my chest like a splinter.

So I came up with a plan: bring the brides outside the palace gates into the heart of the city, and try—foolishly or not—to see if they would fall in love with my kingdom.

To make her fall in love with my kingdom.

Starting with my favorite place to eat.

Now, though, as heads turn and whispers ripple throughout the crowd, I’m starting to regret it. My people can’t contain their curiosity, and the brides… well, they can’t contain their excitement. Their voices are high-pitched, their chatter grating, as they ooh and ah, pointing at various buildings along the street.

They wobble, their heels catching on the cobblestones, as they gather around me once they all exit the carriages.

Off to the side, Gwyn and Miriya, arms linked, are the only ones who make any real effort to engage with the crowd. I catch glimpses of their smiles, hear the faint sound of laughter drifting over the noise as they make conversation with my people.

I wish I could move closer to hear what Gwyn is saying.

Instead, I’m surrounded by a tangle of silk and perfume. The brides press in too close, each trying to edge the others out for a place beside me.

It’s suffocating. Too much all at once.

The wooden doors swing open, and Eve, the owner of the Midnight Swan, steps out to greet me, causing the brides to fall back by at least a foot.

Thank fuck.

“King Riven,” she says, dipping into a bow. Her dark hair is coiled into a crown atop her head, and her dress is far finer than anything I’ve seen her wear in her own establishment. “It’s an honor to host you this evening.”