"I'm trying to get you married, not assassinated. Look at her. Strong. Beautiful. Richer than half the kingdoms combined. You're what, seventeen?"
"Eighteen."
"Even better. The perfect age to fall in love by accident."
Across the table, Derek was watching this entire scene with a goblet of aged forestwine in his hand, amusement twinkling in his sharp eyes.
When Sairi stepped away to refill her drink, he joined her near the firepit.
"Pushing a bit hard, don't you think?" he said casually, swirling the drink in his cup.
Sairi tilted her head. "Oh come on, Derek. They fought together. Almost died together. You know that creates bonds."
Derek chuckled. "It also creates trauma."
"He's a black system awakener. He's not going to die poor or weak. And Kaitlin's no delicate flower either. She's got wealth, skill, and bloodlines."
"So it's a contract then? A political marriage?"
