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I swallow the curses rising to my lips and force my eyes not to roll. In the process, I meet Agnar’s gaze.

My love, Agnar mouths while tossing me a wink.

Subtly, I scratch my neck with my middle finger before answering Sterling with faux sweetness. “Of course.” I climb to my feet and circle the table, leaning over to murmur in Agnar’s ear. “Guess who just got out of a council meeting? That means you get to stay and take notes for us…my love.”

Agnar’s groan follows me as I join Sterling and our harried wedding planner by the door.

Some days, it’s good to be queen.

Chapter Seven

Odessa’s heels clack against the stone as she guides us down five flights of stairs and into the palace courtyard. Sterling walks beside me, and our shoulders occasionally brush. Each contact sends a familiar warmth rushing through my veins that has nothing to do with my fire magic.

Beneath the inscrutable mask, I notice the slight curve of his mouth. The bastard’s entirely too pleased with himself for roping me into this.

The courtyard opens into a sprawling space that’s currently being used as a workshop. Scaffolding surrounds a tiered fountain with stone cherubs perched along each level like decorations on a mutant wedding cake. Craftsmen hover around it, tools in hand, pausing their work as we approach. They bow hastily while clutching chisels and hammers.

“Your Highnesses, the fountain is nearly complete. The craftsmen have been working day and night to ensure it meets the royal standard. The Traditional Fountain of Eternal Union.” Odessa heaves a happy sigh.

Sterling settles into the mask of polite interest he wears at court. Unfortunately, mine isn’t half as good as his.

The craftsmen scatter, clearing a space around the fountain. Sterling approaches with the lazy confidence I’ve come to love and envy. His movements are unhurried yet purposeful, like he has all the time in the world but refuses to waste any second.

“If you could just fill it with water, we could make sure everything works the way it’s supposed to, Your Highness.” She clasps her hands together and gazes at the fountain like it’s the greatest thing in the world.

I have to admit, the artistry is exquisite.

Sterling nods and positions himself. I hang back, arms crossed, watching the way his back straightens and his fingers spread. The water in the base tier stirs, responding to his presence even before he begins the formal magic.

When he raises his hands, the water leaps to obey.

The dance is beautiful. The water rises in perfect spirals, defying gravity and streaking through the air like liquid silver. It foams gently through the first tier, spelling out “Love” before regathering to climb higher.

“The first tier represents the passion and devotion that bring two souls together,” the wedding planner narrates, and I cover my involuntary snort with a cough.

That earns me raised eyebrows from Odessa.

The water curves through the second tier, “Fortune,” splitting into delicate arcs that intertwine before separating again.

“The second level symbolizes how prosperity and abundance flow from a harmonious union.” Odessa sighs yet again, dimples popping out in her cheeks as she smiles.

Sterling’s hands move with practiced grace, each gesture fluid and deliberate. His focus is absolute, his breathing measured. This is Sterling in his element, the soldier’s discipline applied to artistry.

As I watch him work, my skin heats. I probably shouldn’t find this hot, but I definitely do.

The water reaches the final tier, “Fertility.”

Odessa mercifully skips her explanation as the water gathers above the fountain to form a shimmering sphere that hangs suspended in the air. Sunlight hits the droplets, casting prisms of color across the courtyard stones.

“Perfect!” She claps her hands together in delight, and a few of her papers go flying. “Absolutely perfect.”

Except it’s not.

From where I stand, I don’t miss the slight tremor in Sterling’s right hand or the tightness around his eyes.

Something’s wrong.

Normally, he could fill a fountain with his eyes closed and his hands behind his back. No concentration necessary.