The palace garden's wall offered little protection from the heat, but the heavy, suffocating silence between them had nothing to do with the sun.
Marielle stayed frozen by the edge of the marble fountain, her hand clamped tight around the hilt of her dagger. Her boots were planted firmly on the sun-baked cobblestones, every muscle in her back coiled like a pulled bowstring.
In front of her, Iryna stood completely unfazed, the silk of her gown swaying slightly in the faint breeze. She looked for all the world as though she'd just suggested a casual stroll through the market rather than an unprecedented betrothal.
"Let me make sure I am not misinterpreting this," Marielle said, her voice dropping into a low, dangerous tone as she narrowed her eyes. "You are standing here, in broad daylight, telling me that you expect me to drop my dagger, and play house with you for the sake of a piece of treaty?"
