Chapter Twenty-Four
Luthian’s spell wears off at dawn. I feel drugged and drowsy from too much slumber and confused and disappointed to find myself in my own bed. I cannot help but imagine what it would be like to sleep in his arms and wake with our legs wound together.
I console myself by thinking that I would get tangled in his hair, anyway, and so it’s all for the better that I woke alone.
Since we no longer have Brujon, breakfast is served in the great hall, where Luthian conjures our food. He’s waiting at the head of a table laden with fruit and pastries, and the strong beanstalk tea that he prefers. I wrinkle my nose at the smell as I take my chair.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
Better than when you rejected and ensorcelled me? I smile and nod, reaching for a decanter of juice as if nothing is amiss.
“Good. The king wishes to take you riding this afternoon.” Luthian passes me a plate of flaky, moon-shaped biscuits.
I frown and select one of the rolls. “Is that a euphemism?”
“Probably. I advise you to prepare for that eventuality. But I have it from a trusted source that Arcus is quite smitten with you. He may actually wish to talk.”
A cold sweat pops out on my brow. “We’ve never practiced that.”
Luthian barks a laugh. “And yet you’re so prolific.”
I nudge his ankle threateningly with the toe of my slipper. “You know that isn’t what I mean. What do I tell him? Should I have a history? What if he asks how we met?”
“Tell him you met me at the tree beside your mother’s grave. That your sobs were so piteous, it moved my heart.” Luthian shrugs.
“Will he believe that?” I am incredulous.
“It doesn’t matter if he believes it, when it’s the truth.” He emphasizes the last word. “As for your background, I’ve put it about that you’re a changeling. Your mother asked me for a child, and I gave her one. You needn’t tell them more than that.”
“Why not?”
His words taunt me. “You were born for it.”
“Arcus finds you exotic because of your humanity.” Luthian’s mouth hovers at the rim of his cup. “Don’t sully that with a mention of magic.”
I choose to believe that’s the real reason. Whether or not he granted my mother’s wish to plot his revenge, making Arcus in any way suspicious will sink my own goal.
“Good morning!”
I jolt at the chipper voice. “Firo!”
He strides into the great hall shirtless, smiling at both of us. But before he sits across from me, he drops a casual kiss on Luthian’s forehead.
My bite of pastry tries to claw its way up my throat.
“You were asleep for quite a while,” Firo says, oblivious to the dagger he’s thrust through my heart.
Luthian won’t look up from his plate. “She had quite an ordeal in the maze.”
“So you said.” Firo looks me up and down. “You’re all right now, though?”
I nod with enthusiasm I don’t feel. “The king is going to take me riding later today.”
“From what I understand, he’s quite—”
“Smitten?” I reach for my glass. “So I’ve heard.”
Firo laughs. “You’ve truly taken the court by storm. If I was a betting man, I would wager you’ll have a crown on your head by the end of the summer.”
“That long?” I press a hand to my chest in mock offense, proud of myself for not dissolving into tears. Firo is my friend. My acquaintance, at least. I don’t want him to be my romantic rival.
You flatter yourself. My own mind sneers at me. You really believed that Luthian could be, what? Growing to love you? He’s giving you away to the prince. He only cares about what he’ll gain.
I’ve been so stupid.
My chair makes a terrible scrape when I stand, startling both Luthian and Firo. I pretend not to notice. “I can’t eat. I need to decide what I’ll wear. What time do you think I’ll be summoned?”
“I’m sure you have time—” Luthian begins.
My laugh is somewhat hysterical. “Better to be prepared. I never know when those sylphs will appear.”
“This is why she’s a much better student than I,” Firo says, giving Luthian a slow smile that sears my heart like a flaming blade.
I cannot bear to watch more. I run from the room, feigning eagerness until I’m safely behind my bedroom door.
Only then do I let myself cry.
* * * *
The dragon is easily the height of a house, and as wide. I gape up at it, unable to speak when confronted with such breathtaking size and beauty. Its scales are red, flashing with a gold and green iridescence as the light plays off them. The fearsome beast’s talons are black and deadly sharp, each one as tall as I am. The dragon kneads the ground like a cat and rubs its face into the grass with a distinctly feline purr that shakes and trembles the soil beneath my feet.
“I thought you meant horses, Your Majesty.” I mean it to be teasing and coy, but I can’t help the wonder in my voice.
Arcus grins, pleased with his own largesse.
“If it helps,” a deep, lazy voice booms overhead, “I did eat several horses for lunch.”
It isn’t shocking to me that a dragon can speak, but knowing a fact and experiencing the truth of it are two vastly different concepts. My mouth falls open, and Arcus closes it playfully with a finger beneath my chin. “A ride on horseback is too simple for you and requires too many guards for adequate privacy. I long to have you alone, Cenere. Away from the palace, where too many can overhear.”
“Your Majesty flatters me,” I demure.
Instead of a saddle, a large wicker basket is strapped firmly to the beast, anchored by thick iron rings that pierce two of the horned protrusions dividing its back in a serrated line. I look about for a ladder, then realize my foolishness. Of course there is no ladder. The king can fly.
“Shall we?” Arcus asks me, and without waiting for an answer, scoops me into his arms and takes to the sky. I am no stranger to flying; my mother took me up above the trees to survey the whole of our manor when I was a child. I loved flying, then. When I came of age and it became apparent to me that I wouldn’t sprout wings of my own, it became torture, and I refused to fly again.
My heart aches at those refusals. What I wouldn’t give to be in my mother’s arms, experiencing the exhilaration of not only flight, but her unconditional and all-consuming love for me.
No one will ever love me in that way again.
Arcus lands us in the basket, the walls of which are tall enough that we won’t be swept out. They’re lined with black velvet, and mounds of cushions surround a picnic laid out on fine red brocade.
I’m more concerned with those rings pierced through the dragon’s flesh. “Oh, dragon. Doesn’t that hurt you?”
The beast turns its head back on its long neck, bringing me disturbingly close to one giant, yellow eye, and its mouth full of impossibly long teeth. “Such tender care. I didn’t believe I would meet a human today. You’re much kinder than our stories would suggest.”
I feel its voice through my feet.
The dragon goes on. “No. The rings don’t hurt me. There is no feeling in these plates.”
“Like fingernails.” I hold up my hand to show it.
“I suppose.” The dragon squints with great interest. “I’ve never seen a human this close before. Well, unless I was eating them. But to be truthful, I haven’t bothered to take stock of their anatomy, as they’re usually cooked by then.”
“You’re scaring her,” Arcus scolds the beast, though nothing in my manner suggests fear. In truth, I feel much safer with the man-eating dragon than the sadistic king behind me. He arranges some cushions to lounge upon and pats the spot beside him. “Come. Sit with me.”
I fix my most pleasing smile upon my face and go to him, sinking down on the cushions. He pulls me to his side and sighs with contentment. He calls out, “We’re ready.”
The whole of the basket lurches with the movement of the dragon as it stretches its back and, with a mighty, deafening woosh of its wings, takes to the sky. The wind passes over our heads, broken by the shelter of the tightly woven walls around us. I consider my reaction and decide to throw myself fearfully across Arcus’s chest, clinging to him and trembling.
He chuckles at my feigned fright. “Cenere, my sweet. I would never allow harm to come to you.” He pauses. “At least, nothing I couldn’t undo.”
“Your Majesty is so thoughtful.” I sit up as if suddenly realizing my behavior and begin to apologize profusely. “Oh, Your Majesty! I am so sorry. I should never have put my hands—”
He takes one of the named parts and guides it to his cock. “You may touch me however you like, Cenere.”
I blush and dip my head. “I’ve never spent so much time in the company of royalty.”
“I have never spent so much time in the company of a contradiction. One moment, you’re shy and respectful. The next, seductive, and hungry to be used.” His voice is full of wonder. “You are a delightful puzzle to me.”
He leans forward and finds a crystal bowl of succulent red syrup berries, selects one, and says, “Open your mouth.”
I obey, and he squeezes the berry. Its skin splits and the center, like liquid ruby, falls onto my tongue.
He groans. “I would fill your mouth in other ways, Cenere.”
I swallow and whimper, “Oh, yes, please.”
“When we’ve reached our destination,” he says, and pops the berry into my mouth. It’s delicious, and tastes of violet petals. “Right now, I’d like to talk.”
Between bites of fruit and cheese that he feeds me, he questions me. Where am I from? How did I meet Luthian? What about the Court of Pleasure and Torment draws me, and how do I enjoy it so fully, when humans are known to be reserved and proper?
The first two, I answer exactly as I practiced with Luthian. The third, however, is not one I’ve thought of, and it takes me longer to answer.
“I suppose,” I begin hesitantly, “my interest was simply due to my husband’s desire to return. In truth, I dreaded it, a bit. He took time to teach me what to expect, though, and his talent as a lover and a guide drew out something in me that I didn’t know was there.”
My answer, it seems, is not the correct one. Arcus’s expression goes dark. He looks away from me and responds petulantly, “Oh, yes. I have heard rumors of Luthian’s prowess.”
“All exaggerated,” I quickly assure him. “Once I arrived here at court and sampled the delights to be had with you, Your Majesty, I gained more...perspective.”
There is a strange, mean thrill that comes with denying Luthian’s talents. It’s all a lie, but one that I hope would hurt him if he overheard, the way he has hurt me with his callous behavior and betrayal.
But was it truly a betrayal? I ask myself. Luthian never promised to fall in love with me. Never promised to not fall in love with someone else. And I don’t know if he loves Firo.
But Luthian left me, when I begged him to stay, and spent the night with Firo, instead.
My stomach pitches as the dragon suddenly dives. This time, when I cling to Arcus, my fear is genuine.
He seems to love it. “We’ve arrived, my treasure.”
Treasure. A thing to be owned and prized. Another clue he’s given away that will help me further manipulate him, for treasure is sought out and won. He won’t be satisfied if I merely give myself to him. He wants to pursue me, but he needs to be assured that he will win me in the end.
I can use that.
The dragon lands in a forest clearing. When Arcus takes us to the ground, I say, “Your Majesty, I hope this does not end with me in another labyrinth, waiting for you to hunt me down.”
“I did not mean to disappoint you,” he says. “Consider this an apology for the pleasure you missed.”
He turns me to face the mouth of a cavern, lit from within by shimmering shadows of water.
“Shall we go inside?” he asks, as if I have a choice.
I do not. He is a king. A dangerous one, who has already removed the head of his queen.
I’d like to keep mine, so I give him my hand and let him lead me inside.