Atrius stared at me, brows low over his silver-and-gold eyes. Then his fingertip rose and flicked the edge of the veil, making the silken fabric ripple. And he mouthed, I hate this thing. Beneath the silk, my lips thinned. Then, despite myself, curled into a smile. I could’ve sworn that maybe the twitch of Atrius’s lips was almost a smile, too.
