“You are relentless,” he murmured, something like pride warming his tone as he watched her gather herself with characteristic efficiency.
She lifted her chin, and there was challenge in the gesture—a reminder that she hadn’t been broken by what happened, only temporarily overwhelmed.
“Well, you promised to show me the kitchens today.”
He considered arguing, considered ordering her back beneath the covers where he could watch over her longer. But instead, he couldn’t help but admire her fire, this refusal to wilt under pressure.
She was a strong mate for him.
“Very well,” he conceded, already planning how to ensure she didn’t overexert herself. “But you will change first into something more comfortable. And so will I.”
Her brows lifted, and mischief sparked in those warm brown eyes—the first genuine lightness he’d seen today.
“What? Are you going to supervise?”
“No,” he corrected smoothly, letting his voice drop to that low register that made her pulse flutter visibly at her throat. “I’m going to assist. If you require an extra pair of hands, that is.”
Her laughter filled the room like sunlight breaking through storm clouds—bright and unbroken and utterly captivating. But she didn’t refuse his help, and didn’t pull away from the heat building between them.
As she rose from his bed, steady now and ready to claim her place in his kitchens, Kovrak knew with sudden, terrifyingclarity that Varrek and his pride had already seen the truth written in every protective gesture.
He had chosen her. The first step toward claiming his crown and his future.
The question that would determine everything was whether she would choose him in return.
SEVEN
FAITH
Faith stood in the center of her suite, transformed into someone she recognized better. The soft black leggings hugged her legs like a second skin, the fitted tee molded to her curves, and her worn white chef’s coat—buttoned neatly over everything—felt like armor of a different kind. Not the royal blue silk that had betrayed her so spectacularly this morning.
Her open suitcase sprawled across the bed like a small piece of Earth anchoring her to reality in a palace that still felt too grand, too overwhelming for a human navigating a world built for predators. The quiet of her suite wrapped around her, giving her space to replay the morning’s disaster frame by mortifying frame.
Heat crept up her neck as she remembered the moment everything tilted—Kovrak’s voice introducing her as his companion, the sudden shift in the crowd’s energy, and hundreds of eyes assessing her worth in a single glance.
God, how terrible must that have looked to his people? The fragile human baker from Earth, swaying in designer heels and a gown that matched their prince’s ceremonial colors. Fainting during the opening ceremony was not the impression she had hoped to make here.
The memory should have mortified her completely. Yet beneath the embarrassment, something warmer pulsed through her chest. She didn’t remember the collapse itself, but she’d awakened in his bed—Kovrak’sbed—with the scent of him surrounding her like a claim. He must have carried her there. Protected her. Tended to her with a gentleness that contradicted everything about his commanding presence.
That care unsettled her more than the fainting ever could.
Faith gripped her recipe notebook tighter, the worn leather familiar against her palms. She couldn’t help but think about the political fallout spreading through the kingdom right now. The pride had gathered to witness strength, and to evaluate this year’s potential mate for their prince. Instead, she’d given them a spectacle of human fragility on full display.
She pictured their faces in that moment before everything went dark—curiosity shifting to skepticism, hope curdling into disappointment. The whispers that must be circulating now, questioning Kovrak’s judgment, wondering if their future king had chosen poorly.
A human queen? Really?
The thought tightened her chest. She hated that she might have added pressure to shoulders that already carried the weight of a waiting crown. Hated that his pride might be doubting his choices because of her weakness.
She didn’t want to be caught in the middle of that political storm. Didn’t want to be a liability dragging him down when he needed to project strength and certainty.
She wanted to be an asset.
Tonight, she decided with the fierce determination that had built her bakery from nothing, they wouldn’t remember her collapse. They’d remember what she could create—an array of desserts bold enough to spark conversation, innovative enough to intrigue, and sweet enough to soften the sharpest doubt.
A knock at her door pulled her from the spiral of her thoughts. When she opened it, her breath caught in her throat.
Kovrak stood there transformed, no longer the formal prince in ceremonial attire but something far more dangerous. Dark jeans molded to powerful thighs, and a fitted charcoal henley stretched across the broad expanse of his chest, the fabric clinging to muscles that spoke of controlled violence barely leashed.