Chapter Twenty-Five
Faery baths are naturally occurring magical springs that appear all over Fablemere. They aren’t confined to the places where faeries live, though it’s said that once, eons ago, faeries ruled all of Fablemere. Legends about the fae who created the baths abound, but those stories were never my favorite among the tales mother told. Who cares, after all, about magic springs and legendary caverns, when one can hear stories about the far-off Smuggler’s Sea and the pirates who brave it?
Arcus stops me steps beneath the rocky outcrop that shelters the mouth of the tunnel. He waves a hand to completely disrobe us both. “This is a pure place and must be kept so. This is the last faery bath to be used only by faeries.”
He steps away, holding my hand, but I stick fast to my place. “Your Majesty may have forgotten that I am no faery.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he says with a dismissive wave. “This place falls under my dominion. The presence of your beauty honors these enchanted waters.”
I follow reluctantly. Though I am human in body, my spirit is fae. My presence feels profane here.
A warm breeze, flecked with shimmering motes, wraps around me as if in invitation. Perhaps because I was born of a wish, born of faery magic, I’m not truly trespassing. I let Arcus guide me deeper into the cave.
The ring of darkness at the mouth of the tunnel passes, and we enter a vast, high-ceilinged cavern. The sand-colored walls are brightly lit with the luminance of the opaque blue water. Steam rises from numerous, naturally occurring cauldrons of varying height; some spill over into each other, but never empty. The glittering motes fill the air, echoing the swirls of iridescence winding through the waters.
“Do all the faery baths look this way?” I ask, and add a hasty, “Your Majesty?”
He stops me, places his hands on my shoulders. “In this place, I am not a king. I am a faery, on the same footing as you. You may use my name.”
It’s a nice sentiment, but I don’t trust it. I’m sure he believes it, but I’m reluctant to test it.
“Please.” He dives a hand into my loose curls, his thumb stroking over my cheek. “I want to hear you say my name.”
I sway into him, and it’s not entirely an act; the atmosphere lulls my body into dreamlike languidness, and I melt against him, my chin tilted up to his. “Arcus.”
His mouth descends upon mine with such ferocity that it brings to mind the kisses that Luthian and I have shared. But where I can feel Arcus’s passion, I feel none of it myself. I let him ravage my mouth desperately, make the appropriate whimpers, clasp my arms around his neck, but while my body responds eagerly to his touch, inside, I am hollow.
Under Luthian’s mouth, I am whole.
If I keep thinking of Luthian, keep lamenting what I’ve lost but never had, I won’t be able to give the king what he needs to be convinced of my desire for him. I concentrate on his touch, the warm, solid strength of his muscled body pressed to mine. The smoothness of his skin, the skill of his tongue. I swoon, and he supports me with a hand around my back, a satisfied noise rumbling deep in his chest before he lifts his head.
“I would hear you say my name a thousand times today, Cenere. I want you to scream it in your passion.”
“Then make me scream,” I breathe, my gaze holding his fast.
This is a dangerous request. I know he can hurt me. But from his manner, his openness, it doesn’t seem that he’s brought me here to demonstrate his cruelty. And when he kisses me again, I know I’ve judged correctly.
He’s brought me here to show me that he can be tender.
Breathing fast, his cock hard against my stomach, he motions to the pools. “Let’s get in.”
Once again, he lifts me in his arms to fly with me, taking us down into the central basin. It’s surrounded by tall columns bearing other pools, which spill down all around us in a curtain of enchanted water. Slowly, he lowers us to the surface. For a moment, bathed in the curls of steam, I am afraid I might be scalded, but my toes break the water, and I find it’s the perfect temperature and deliciously hot. It’s deep enough that we submerge to my shoulders. Arcus, much taller, must crouch to my level.
The water is pure, heated silk, slipping over my skin like a caress, and I sigh as all my muscles relax. I didn’t realize how tense they were; perhaps I am more afraid of Arcus than I cared to admit. But even fear can’t touch me, now; I’m melting into a sensuous abyss of relaxation.
Arcus still holds me. He grins down at me with pride, as if he is responsible for this place and its effect on me. The king’s ego knows no bounds.
“You see now, why this place is sacred,” he tells me. Like he can read my simple, human thoughts. If he could, he would see eyes rolling in my mind. “I brought my queens here, before we were mated.”
My brow crinkles. “Queens?”
“Theeda and Parphia,” he replies, bemused. “Luthian taught you court manners, but no court history?”
I blush and look down.
“Theeda was my first queen. She was a good mate and bore my heirs.” He speaks with true fondness in his words. “I was disappointed when she died.”
“How did it happen?” I ask softly, touching his cheek as if to comfort him.
“She was at Palat Scylas, in the Sorrowlands, when they were infected.” He says no more, and I don’t press him. I have little knowledge of the Sorrowlands apart from what everyone in Fablemere knows: nothing grows, nothing lives. I don’t know how it got that way.
“I’m so sorry.” I take his hand and bring it to my lips, pressing a kiss in the center of his palm.
He smooths my hair back. “You are a tender-hearted thing.”
“I can’t help it. I’m human,” I say apologetically. “What about your other queen?”
He dismisses her with a wave of his hand. “Parphia? She isn’t worth discussing. Especially not in this sacred place.”
“Well, I thank you for bringing me to such an important site, Your—” I pretend to slip up. “Arcus.”
He lifts my chin and studies my face. “You are a wonder, Cenere. In all my thousands of years, I have yet to encounter someone so human, and yet so fae. I think it would be a mistake to let you slip from my grasp.”
I summon tears to my eyes and blink to ensure that one falls. “I am mated to Luthian.”
“Do you take me for an ogre? A pixie?” He laughs. “You made a promise to Luthian, not the old gods. It’s never been our way to yolk ourselves to each other inseparably. With a word, I can cleave the bond between you and your mate and have you for myself.”
Is it a threat or an offer? I can’t tell.
He lowers himself more, pulls me down with him. My copper curls turn to wavy, dark tentacles on the surface of the water. He urges one of my legs around his waist and the tip of his cock touches me. “Is that something you would desire, Cenere? Would you wish to be my queen?”
I desire Luthian. I would take a binding oath before the old gods if he asked me. But that is not why I’ve come to court.
With a gentle push, I free myself from Arcus’s arms and float just out of his reach. “It’s impossible.”
“Why should it be?” Arcus demands, shockingly gentle.
“Because...” I stop. I came to this court specifically to become Cassan’s queen. To claim the throne at his side. To exert my power and punish Cadwyn Thrace. To claim my justice. Does it matter now if I achieve it according to Luthian’s plan? What I want is in the palm of my hand, outstretched to me for the taking.
Luthian would take it.
If I break my bargain with him, I will lose my wishes. Will I even need them if I am Arcus’s queen?
But Luthian still plans to kill Arcus. I wouldn’t be queen for long. Perhaps, not even long enough to end Cadwyn Thrace. And while I could simply inform the king of Luthian’s scheming...
I love Luthian. Standing on this precipice of betrayal, I know I can’t step off it. I want to hurt Luthian because I am hurt. But I can’t end his life over something as trivial as unreturned affection.
My mind whirls. Arcus trusts me enough to be alone with him. No guards, no dragons, naked and vulnerable in my arms. He would have me as his queen. Luthian and I didn’t plan it that way, but it could still help us, without betraying him.
“Because,” I gasp on a sob that Arcus will believe because he wants to. “I am a lowly human. I’m fortunate that Luthian can overlook such a thing.”
“There is nothing to overlook, Cenere,” Arcus vows. “You are more perfect than any faery.”
“But could your courtiers overlook such a thing?” I shake my head. “I know I’ve impressed them with my displays. The mermaids, for example—”
“Mermaids?” Arcus laughs. “I would have liked to see that.”
I fake a tremulous smile. “I want to belong at court. If I am queen, will they resent me?”
“They will see you as I do.” He pushes my hair behind my ear. “Because I will command it.”
He knows nothing of ruling, I realize. To him, the title is power, the power absolute.
It will come as a shock when he’s assassinated.
“There is...more.” This is where I alter our plans. Luthian will simply have to trust my judgment.
“Tell me,” Arcus urges.
“My stepfather. He’s a faery, like my mother was. I believe he murdered her. When Luthian found me weeping on my mother’s grave, he promised me I would have my revenge.” I force another burst of tears to my eyes. “That was months ago, and yet Cadwyn Thrace lives.”
“And that is what binds you to Luthian?” Understanding flashes across Arcus’s face.
I nod fervently. “I want Thrace to answer for his crimes. I want to have my revenge upon him, and Luthian promised that I could. Yet, he’s made no move. His motivation ever since we were mated has been gaining entry to your court. It worked, but... I fear he will never make good on his promise.”
Arcus can. Even without a crown upon my head, I know Arcus will deliver Thrace to me in chains. And I’ve seen his lust for violence, for cruelty. He’ll revel in my vengeance.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of Luthian’s faithlessness,” Arcus growls. “As queen, you will have all the power you need to set your retribution in motion. You owe Luthian nothing. I’ll see him banished from court—”
“No!” I cry. “Not before I am your queen.”
He smiles down at me. “You wish to be my queen?”
“Do I wish to spend my days and nights with you? Enjoying all the pleasures of your court?” At this, I take his shaft in my hand. The water aids me in a silken glide as I pump him. “Do I wish to fall asleep with our bodies joined? Wake to be ravished every sunup? Are these the things you’re promising me?”
His kiss is a punishment and a vow, all at once. He lifts me up to penetrate me, sliding me slowly down his length. I shudder and moan accordingly.
“I promise you the world, Cenere,” he groans against my throat, lifting me to thrust in again. “I would give you all of Fablemere, if you asked. Simply say the word, and you will rule at my side.”
“Yes,” I whimper, and clutch around him. “Yes. I will be your queen.”