His swollen face nearing purple, the choking king managed to dip his head.
“Then stand back and shut your shit-slopping mouth.”
A shove sent King Robard stumbling into the arms of his wailing wife and daughter. Bane heard the king gasping for air and the terrified exclamations of the courtiers but didn’t spare them a glance. His eyes were on Echo, who was staring up at him with an expression of such admiration and respect that Bane knew the memory of the sight would warm him for the rest of his life.
A life he wanted to begin. To the priestess he said, “Start over. I will say my vows again so that my bride knows how very deeply I mean them—and so everyone around us understands that she is under my protection, and that I will not hesitate to kill them if they dare insult her again.”
Sudden, uneasy silence fell over the hall. Echo grinned up at him, her expressive eyes sparkling merrily.
He said his vows again. She said hers—though when the priestess announced them married, Echo turned her face so that Bane kissed her cheek instead of her lips.
But no matter. She was his. And they had a long ride ahead of them.
Quietly he asked, “Do you wish to stay for the wedding feast?”
Her baleful gaze swept over her cowering family. “No.”
“Then we leave.”
To seal their vows, their hands had to remain bound until dawn. With their beribboned fingers entwined, Bane led Echo out of the great hall, where Jorin waited.
“See that a basket is sent to the carriage. We will eat as we travel,” Bane told him. They continued toward the courtyard, where their mounted escort stood. He frowned as Echo began to tug at the ribbon tied around their hands. “Let that be.”
“Why? You do not truly want to be married to me.”
“I do.”
She scoffed before narrowing a suspicious look at his face. “Why?”
“I told you,” he said as they neared the carriage. “I intend to make you fall in love with me.”
Her expression closed. Jaw tight, she turned her face away.
He was not discouraged. Bane had not defeated the undying scourge in a single day, either. He would win her heart.
Beginning now. “I’ll lift you up.”
“What?”
“Into the carriage.”
She rolled her eyes—and climbed in under her own power.
5
Echo
She was a weak, sentimental fool.
And General Bane had completely ruined another plan. All because he’d choked her father and proved himself a hero again.
Echo ought to have been on her way to Crolum alone. But she’d been so overwhelmed by Bane’s defense of her, she’d thrown aside her intent to paralyze him with the kiss at the end of the ceremony—and leave him behind, free to pursue Sapphira, if he wished. Instead she sat at his side in a carriage as it rattled through the streets.
Apparently King Tamas had given them the very worst of his carriages, with springs akin to torture devices. Instead of cushioning them from every bump in the road, they were jostled and bounced. It all seemed like a very bad dream, but her head ached far too much for this to be anything except reality.
She was married to a man who loved her sister.
But she couldn’t get away. Sealing their vows only required that their hands lay palm to palm until dawn, but after Echo had tried to unwind the ribbon, he’d entwined their fingers and hadn’t yet let go.
As if he wanted to hold onto her. But she was no fool. Most likely, he meant to pretend that he’d married Sapphira and make the best of it.
With his foot, he nudged the basket on the floor. “Hungry?”
Starving. But she could not risk eating until she washed her lips.
Bane appeared to be starving, too. And also thinking of her lips. Then his gaze dropped, to where the jolting of the carriage threatened to bounce her breasts out of the low-cut absurdity of a wedding gown that her mother had taken from her sister’s wardrobe and forced Echo to wear. Despite the snug fit of the bodice, another little jiggle and her nipples would make a royal appearance.
How did Sapphira even breathe in these things? Dresses like this would be outlawed in Crolum. Loose outfits only. Anything this tight was more useful as a murder weapon than clothing.
Although…
She stole a glance at Bane’s thighs, encased in worn leather that fit like a second skin. Tight, but also buttery soft against her knuckles when the jostling of the carriage bumped the back of her beribboned hand against his leg.
But the pliable leather was the only soft thing on his body, molding faithfully to steely muscles that were clearly defined, even at rest. And those muscles were thick. So thick. As all of him was. His body held not even a spare bit of fat—but instead of running lean, his form was built on a massive scale. When she’d been beneath him, clamping her knees to his sides to urge him between her thighs, there’d been a breathless, shocking moment as she’d realized how widely she had to spread and how utterly open to him she was.