Derek drained the last of the whiskey from his glass, the burn of it sliding down his throat as the alcohol he had been steadily pouring into himself all night finally began to take proper hold. Leo snarled and prowled restlessly beneath his skin, the beast's agitation clawing at him with no clear reason. It had been three days since the ugly scene with Lara and Milo, and Kira had still not left her room or spoken to a single soul. She had shut herself away completely, and Derek could not understand why the silence bothered him so much.
Because you need this marriage to look real enough for the people of Dravengard if you want to keep that throne in a few months, he reminded himself sharply. Yet the thought rang hollow. He hadn't truly let his "wife" occupy his mind since the wedding night, yet over the last seventy-two hours, she had invaded his mind far more often than he cared to admit.
