Betrayed by Magic (The Baine Chronicles #5)(2)

“Yeah, yeah, I know the drill.” Sighing, I sat up and ran my hands through my mess of curls. My eyes wandered around the bedroom as I listened to Iannis open the door to the server. It was twice the size of my own bedroom, with a high ceiling, extensive wooden paneling, and a custom, matching wooden four-poster bed. Unlike the blue and gold that dominated his sitting area, study, and office, his bedroom was done in dark greens and browns—masculine but earthy colors. Potted plants sat in the corners, a partitioned wall with a fireplace separated a small sitting area from the bed, and double doors off to the side led out to a private balcony that could be viewed through a large picture window.

On the opposite side of the bedroom, next to the sitting area, the wooden paneling cleverly disguised a door that opened onto a secret passage connecting my new bedroom suite—conveniently located in the west wing—to Iannis’s. Even though I retired to my own rooms at the end of each day, I always woke up in his.

Hopping off the bed, I snagged a white robe hanging on the wall and shrugged it on, then sauntered out into the living room. The server was gone, and I eyed the cart he’d left next to Iannis’s dining table, piled high with eggs, potatoes, sausage, bagels, and other breakfast foods.

“Don’t you think he knows he’s feeding more than one person every time he comes up here?” I asked as I sat down across from Iannis. I picked up the fancy ceramic plate from the table and began heaping food onto it. “I highly doubt you were eating all of this for breakfast on your own.”

“Of course he knows,” Iannis said mildly as he buttered his bagel. “The palace staff will have guessed my ulterior motive behind moving you to the west wing as well.” He smirked a little, then took a bite of his bagel. “But appearances must still be kept up. We are not married yet, Sunaya, and we cannot publicly flaunt convention.”

“Right.” I pressed my lips together, then picked up my fork and stabbed at a potato. “Why do engagements have to take so long, anyway?”

Iannis arched a brow at me over his cup of coffee. “I thought you were happy with the idea of a long engagement.”

I scowled. “I was, because I didn’t think it would be good to rush into the whole marriage thing.” Truthfully, I needed more time to get used to the idea. Marriage was forever, a huge commitment even when I didn’t consider Iannis’s lifespan, which would likely be significantly longer than the three hundred or so years I could hope for. “But even though we’re engaged, we still have to skulk around. It’s starting to grate on me.” Secrecy and discretion in relationships wasn’t really something I was used to as a shifter.

Iannis’s expression tightened, and he set down his coffee cup. “I don’t know what more you would have me do, Sunaya. I am still the Chief Mage, and I am supposed to set a good example. I must follow the rules, at least in public.”

“I know.” I softened my voice as a pang of guilt hit me—I was being unfair. “It’s just… frustrating.”

Iannis nodded. “Why don’t we eat?” he suggested, picking up his fork and knife. “We can talk after you’ve gotten some food into you.”

I did as he suggested, digging into the mountain of food I’d piled onto my plate. Even pacing myself, I still polished off my food before Iannis, and was well into my third helping by the time he reached for more. Shifters relied on super-fast metabolisms for our healing powers and strength, so we required much more fuel than the average person.

“Feeling better?” Iannis asked, a hint of amusement in his tone as I leaned back in my chair with a sigh.

“Much.” I patted my belly, then allowed myself a few moments to savor the sensation of being full before I sat up again. “Now tell me why mages have to have long engagements.”

“Traditionally, a marriage between mages isn’t just the joining of two lives, but an alliance between families. There are agreements to be negotiated, contracts to be drawn up, reviewed, and signed. That process should not be hurried, to avoid later complications. But more importantly, the engagement period is meant to ensure that mages do not rashly enter into an eternal, unbreakable commitment. A full year’s betrothal gives time for either family, not to mention the bride or groom, to change their minds. The contracts are legally and magically binding only when the marriage ceremony is complete and the marriage is consummated. Until then, they can be cancelled even if both sides have already signed and agreed.”

“Huh.” I pursed my lips together as I thought about that. “But why does this apply to us? You and I aren’t involving our families.”

“Not if we can help it,” Iannis said, frowning. “My father has already passed, and my mother is content to let me make my own decision. However, if your father gets wind of our betrothal, he could impede our union. I would prefer to have the ceremony over and done with to avoid such a possibility, but alas, we cannot.”

“Well, that’s just lovely,” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. “And yet, despite the fact that we’re engaged and my father could appear on the scene at any moment, you still don’t want to tell me who he is.”

“It is better that you not know,” Iannis said firmly. “It could lead to all kinds of complications, and only cause you needless pain. If anyone should contact you claiming a relationship of any kind, you must play dumb and demand proof, then contact me immediately. We cannot take chances with this.”