Copper Veins(62)

Which meant that Micah was angry—no, furious—enough about something to barge into my dream and yell about it.

“Micah,” I said, but he ignored me and went on nattering away. “Hey!” I said louder. At least he stopped moving. “What are you talking about?”

“Your father. Baudoin.” Micah halted and scrubbed his face with his hands, then he crouched before me. “My Sara, it pains me to say this, but I must. Your father wants us apart.”

“He doesn’t,” I said automatically, then I remembered the movement I’d caught near the front door. I guess someone had been there after all. “You heard what he said?” I asked, my hand finding its way inside Micah’s.

“I did.” Micah caressed my cheek, his eyes wide. “Sara, you must tell me if you share his sentiment. If you do not wish to be bound to me, I will release you.”

“Release me?” I squeaked. I knew what Micah meant—as long as our marriage remained unconsummated, either one of us could walk away. Only I wasn’t planning on going anywhere. “Is that what you want?”

“No,” he murmured, now raining kisses onto my face, neck, hands. “I will hold you to me until the end of time, if only you wish it. I will never let you go. Never…”

I started awake, the sensation of Micah’s lips somehow imprinted on my wakeful skin. He still slept fitfully in the chair across from us, his brows drawn together. Slowly, so as not to wake my sister, I extricated myself from the blankets and settled myself on Micah’s lap.

I took a moment to appreciate his sleeping face, his delicate silver brows a pleasing contrast to his caramel skin, before I started raining kisses upon his skin in much the same way his dreamself had done to me. It didn’t take long to rouse him, not that it mattered. I could have kissed him forever.

“And I will never let you go,” I said, staring into his silver eyes. “I don’t care who thinks what about it. You’re mine. End of story.”

Micah put his hands on the back of my neck and slid his fingers into my hair. “But what of your father?”

“What of him?” My voice caught at the last, but I soldiered on. “He’s been gone for most of my life. He wasn’t there when I was growing up, wasn’t…” I reflexively wiped my nose, not that I was crying. “My point is, he doesn’t really know me very well. So he’ll just have to get to know the both of us, together.”

Then I kissed Micah before he could protest, thus ending anything he could say about needing a father’s approval. Because he didn’t need anyone’s approval, and neither did I.

“Let’s go upstairs,” I said between kisses. I glanced at the window: dawn was just breaking over the horizon.

At that, Micah balled his hands into fists. “We must appear at the Golden Court this morning,” he said. “If we do not, Oriana may formally accuse us of treason.”

“Oh. Well, then.” I mustered my coyest glance. “Let’s get this appearance over with. I have business with my husband.”

At that, Micah smiled, a real smile that reached his eyes. “My Sara, I couldn’t agree more.”





26


Micah and I didn’t even bother to change before we left for the Golden Court. I just brushed my hair and pulled on a hoodie, not even taking the time to apply some makeup to conceal the remains of my recent injuries. While my copper had taken care of the cuts that had scored my cheek, Micah hadn’t gotten around to helping me with the bruises. As it turned out, Micah approved of me looking like a punching bag.

“While it pains me to see you so,” he murmured, lightly touching my mottled cheek, “it will reinforce my claim that you were abducted.”

“Would anyone really think you made that up?”

Micah snorted. “The problem is our queen tends to react before she thinks.”

He had a point there. “What we really need to do is create a diversion, so that she stops looking our way,” I said.

Micah smiled and pulled me close. “An excellent notion, love.” Then he kissed me, rather awesomely, and we left the Whispering Dell to meet with our lunatic queen.

The Golden Court was welcoming, as always, with its attentive footmen and smiling servant girls. By now, I suspected that they had been drugged with something that made them unable to do anything but smile and bow. And genuflect—can’t forget the genuflecting.

Anyway, we were led with alacrity (side note: I have been hanging around Sadie way too much if I’m using words like genuflect and alacrity) to Oriana’s receiving chamber. The throne was, notably, empty.