Chapter 22
ALIX
T hroughout the day, it rains.
I never thought I’d be glad for more darkness, but the rain means that Daemon never has to leave my room and I come apart with him inside me twice more before I finally fall asleep.
When I wake again, there’s a bubble of excitement growing in my stomach. I roll over and find Daemon wide awake and staring at the ceiling, his face the definition of brooding .
“Don’t tell me you’re going to freak out now,” I say. “Please don’t be that fucking basic.”
He looks over at me for a fraction of a second his gaze flares to life. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m just thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything,” he grumbles, unhelpfully.
Right. Okay, moody…
Before I can settle into what I can already tell will be a frustrating conversation, I need to pull myself together a little.
Standing, I grab a robe from the wardrobe, then duck into the bathroom for a minute to ward off UTIs and clean myself up. One look at myself in the mirror is humbling to say the least, and I splash some water on my face and pull a brush through my hair before returning to the bedroom.
I swear to God, Daemon hasn’t moved a single muscle. It’s like he’s turned to stone.
“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask. “What is this ‘everything’ you’re so fixated on?”
“Mostly how I’m the biggest fucking hypocrite in Ellender.”
“What do you mean?”
He rolls over to look at me. “I mean I hate Throne for not trying harder to save his kingdom, but I’m here willing to let them all burn if it means I can have you for just a minute longer. I’d bargain with every life in Vernallis to keep you.”
My mouth goes dry and my heartbeat speeds up, pounding so hard against my chest I can barely hear myself think over the thrumming.
I can’t think of what to say—I don’t have words important enough to match his casual declarations—but I don’t have to say anything. In seconds, Daemon’s face crumbles back into self-loathing. “I don’t know what I’m going to do in a few nights when nothing changes and the kingdom stays cursed forever.”
Oh. Right.
I’m embarrassed that for a moment, the curse completely slipped my mind. All I could think of last night was him. My biggest worry right now is the messy situationship we’ve got going on, but that’s incredibly selfish when there’s an entire kingdom of people whose lives hang in the balance.
I let out a breath. “Okay, logically, what are the options here?”
“Meaning?”
“Are there ways to escape that don’t include Thorne? Just hypothetically, if you went to the human world, would you stay cursed? You said lots of Fae escaped there years ago to avoid it, right?”
“I thought of that,” he says darkly. “But it’s not so simple. From what little time I spent in your world, it’s clear that things are different now than they were a century ago. Plus, I can’t ask my family to give up magic entirely, and I don’t know if I could leave them.”
“Do the guys use magic? I don’t think I’ve seen any besides the wings.”
“They all do, especially Kastian, and he’s never had the experience of losing the majority of his magic the way I have. He’d lose his mind.”
He looks conflicted, tortured, and my heart pangs. Clearly he’s thinking about it—leaving all his friends to stay with me. But I don’t want that either. They feel like part of him, like a pack.
I walk around the bed and climb up, kneeling on the end by his feet. “Okay, then breaking the curse is the only option, right?”
“If it were really an option, then sure,” he grumbles.
“I mean…I could be trying harder to make the king like me. I obviously haven’t been putting any effort into it, but I could….”
He looks up sharply. “No. Absolutely fucking not.”
I shrug. I can’t believe I’m even suggesting this. Do I actually have Stockholm syndrome, or am I just so incredibly cockstruck that I can’t think clearly anymore. I shake my head hard. “I’m just saying it’s a possibility. If I could save you, and all I’d have to do is seduce?—”
“No,” Daemon growls, more aggressively this time. “I’m not letting that happen.”
“But if it could help, then?—”
“No!” He looks up at me with dark fire in his eyes. “You’ve nearly died practically every other day since arriving here and Thorne barely seems to care. Not only would the curse not break anyway, but he clearly can’t keep you safe.”
He stands abruptly and strides toward the door.
“Where are you going?” I demand, also jumping to my feet.
“To talk to Thorne. I want him to explain to me what he’s planning to do about the curse. Since he obviously doesn’t care to keep you safe, even he must realize that marriage won’t solve anything.”
“Wait!” I blurt out, jumping off the bed after him. “At least wait for me to get dressed so I can go with you.”
He looks back at me and huffs an angry breath through his nose before giving a tight nod.
Barely half an hour later, Daemon and I race down an unfamiliar corridor.
“I know I haven’t spent much time exploring, but where are we going?” I ask.
“To his private wing.”
“What? But he said never to go there.”
“I don’t really care what he wants, Peaches.”
I purse my lips, worry washing over me as I practically jog to keep up with Daemon. The king seemed pretty adamant that I shouldn’t go anywhere near his rooms—honestly after what I’ve heard about him and how he hasn’t pursued any sort of physical relationship with me, I assumed that’s because he keeps mistresses in there. But maybe pissing him off isn’t the best way to start this conversation.
At the end of the corridor is a large wooden door. As we approach, the door opens and King Thorne walks out. His eyes immediately narrow at the sight of us. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
“To see you,” Daemon barks.
Thorne's eyes flick to me and there’s quiet anger simmering there. He shuts the door behind him with a click that resonates down the hall. “I was just on my way down to the throne room. Walk with me.”
The three of us walk down to the throne room together in seething silence. Well, seething on Daemon’s part. I just feel uncomfortable, and maybe a little nervous.
“Did you enjoy your gift?” the king asks.
It takes me a long second to realize that he’s speaking to me, and another second to remember the gift in question—the last twenty-four hours have been so crazy, I practically forgot about the golden violin. I’m surprised he remembered it. I would have thought his ball being destroyed by my near death and his brother saving me would take higher precedent in his mind.
“I did,” I say after a long pause. “I hope someone was able to retrieve it from the ballroom after the incident.”
Thorne presses his lips tightly together, looking angry. “Yes…let’s hope.”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss,” Daemon demands. “You have to realize that was intentional.”
“Intentional?” Thorne echoes.
“She was standing alone in the middle of the damn room right under that chandelier. That thing is over a thousand years old, and it happens to fall when she’s right under it?”
“As you said, it was over a thousand years old,” Thorne says flatly. “Unfortunate, obviously, but not entirely surprising. Isabelle was lucky you moved so quickly—though I suppose I can’t say the same for you. How is your back?”
Daemon ignores him and barrels on as if the king didn’t speak. “What about all the other times she’s nearly died?”
“Such as?”
“The train crash. There was no one driving that thing I checked, and every other passenger car managed to break off and slow down long before ours.”
Thorne’s eyes are cold and his tone clipped. “An unfortunate accident of course.”
“What about the bells mysteriously waking the entire court? What about Foulo attacking her?”
“What’s this about Foulo? I haven’t seen him in several nights, did something happen?”
Daemon continues, his rant picking up steam and volume as he goes. “And there was the wolf when she first arrived, the ice breaking, then the chandelier, and—” He breaks off.
I know he’s thinking of the sleepwalking incident last night, but for whatever reason doesn’t want to explain that. Even without that as evidence, though, he’s making a good point. I assumed Ellender was simply dangerous, but could the attacks be pointed?
“Clearly, someone is targeting Al—” Daemon coughs, catching himself. “Isabelle. Someone is sabotaging Isabelle .”
Thorne looks thoughtful. We’ve come to a halt in the entrance hall in front of the doors to the throne room, but he makes no move to open them. Instead, he strokes his chin, thinking.
“You’re right,” he says finally.
Daemon falters, clearly shocked. “I am?”
“Yes. I agree, someone is obviously trying to prevent my wedding in an effort to stop the curse from breaking.”
I raise an eyebrow and can’t keep myself from interjecting. “Who would want to do that?”
He shakes his head. “There’s no way to know, but in the meantime, we must make sure you’re kept safe until the moon.”
“How?” Daemon demands.
Thorne frowns. “If the person attempting to harm my rose is a member of the court, then it stands to reason we should remove Isabelle from the vicinity until the rose moon.”
“Why not move up the wedding instead?” I blurt out before Daemon can stop me.
I feel Daemon’s hard gaze on the side of my face but I ignore him. If it means saving his life, I’ll do anything. Even break my own heart.
“Weddings are always held on rose moons,” Thorne says, the coldness in his eyes thawing a fraction. “I don’t want to risk changing anything when so much is at stake, and regardless, the ceremony is barely a week away.”
“Oh, now you fucking care,” Daemon growls under his breath. “That also means you only have days left until your whole kingdom is potentially doomed, but by all means, let’s focus on the reception decor.”
“What was that?” Thorne looks dangerously at his brother. “Don’t fucking test me, Ashwater.”
Daemon sets his jaw. He keeps his mouth shut but is clearly close to boiling over. Thorne smirks smugly. I swear the happiest I ever see him is when he’s needling Daemon.
“Is your estate still empty?” Thorne asks.
Daemon coughs. “Mostly.”
“Good.” Thorne claps his hands together as if it’s settled. “Then we’ll all travel there immediately.”
Daemon stiffens, looking stunned. “What?”
“We’ll all travel to your estate,” Throne repeats. “I thought you agreed that if Isabelle is unsafe at court then surely leaving the castle is the best option.”
“But why my estate?” Daemon growls.
Throne sneers. “Why not the estate of my Commander and most loyal brother? Unless there’s something you wish to confess…”
Daemon shakes his head stiffly while anxiety churns in my stomach. I don’t dare catch his eyes. Instead, I focus on the king. “Wait, when you say all of us?—”
Thorne looks back at me. “I’ll be going, obviously. You and I have hardly had the chance to see each other since your return. It might even be…fun.”
I highly fucking doubt that, but all I can do is smile.
King Thorne’s word is law.
The moment he breathes a word about leaving the Winter Palace, every one of the dozens of servants jumps to attention. Within an hour, the entire court has packed, and before I know what happened, Odessa is ushering me outside to a long procession of carriages.
These are the sorts of vintage fairytale coaches I expected to see when we first set off for the Winter Palace. But why are there so many of them?
We make our way across the lawn and stop in front of a long line of horse drawn carriages. There must be four dozen of them, parked in a long winding line down the path that leads up to the castle. Each are painted black with intricate wooden carvings or flowers and birds on their heavy wooden walls. A red banner adorns each coach, every one sporting a different golden crest.
“I thought the court was staying here?” I hiss under my breath.
Odessa looks sideways at me. “Most are, but I don’t think King Thorne knows how to travel without at least a small entourage. It won’t be a large group going with you—twenty or thirty courtiers at most.”
I laugh. “I barely know twenty people at home. He knows this defeats the purpose, right? Any of those people could be the one trying to hurt me.”
She huffs. “I mean, you and I know that, but no, I don’t think he realizes the problem.”
“Amazing,” I mutter sarcastically. “So we’re about to saddle poor Beatrix with thirty surprise houseguests and it’s not even going to keep me safer.”
“Are you scared?” Odessa asks.
I bite my lip. “I’m not sure honestly. I guess I am in an abstract way, but I try not to think about it. If I think about any of this too hard I’m pretty sure my brain will melt, so…” I trail off, then shake my head roughly. “Anyway, I don’t think Daemon will let anything happen.”
Odessa looks sideways at me again, this time with more of a question in her gaze.
“What?” I demand.
“Just noticing that you two have gotten closer lately.”
I flush, remembering how she walked in on our kiss the last time we visited the Ashwater estate. “Something like that.”
“Are you sure that's a good idea? What with you leaving soon.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. I know what she means but I pretend not to. “It’s no different than you and I becoming friends. Speaking of which, would you feed Sushi for me?”
She nods, but still looks a bit worried.
Despite my original insistence that I didn’t want to make friends here, Odessa was right. I have gotten comfortable around her in a very short span of time. Maybe not best friend level closeness, but I could see it happening if for some reason I wasn’t able to return home next week. Still, I don’t exactly want to talk to Dessa about my messy drama. Not that I think she wouldn’t listen, but Daemon is practically her brother and it feels weird.
Fortunately, I don’t have to because she doesn’t get any more opportunities to ask about it as at that moment, we reach the front of the line of carriages.
The nobles stream out of the palace around us and make a beeline for their coaches. I wave as I spot Claudette and her sisters among the crowd. After last night, I feel far more comfortable with practicing my non-toxic zen attitude toward them.
To my surprise, Claudette shoots me a wounded look and turns her nose up before flouncing into her carriage.
I turn to Odessa. “Um, what was that?”
“I think it’s my fault,” a low familiar voice sounds from behind the second carriage, and Daemon walks out to greet us. He rubs the back of his neck and looks down, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t worry about it.”
I scoff. “Oh, please. I’ve never not worried about anything in my life. What happened?”
He shrugs. “I think she was trying to talk to me while you were playing last night. I may have shoved her out of the way to get to you.”
Odessa shakes her head. “Good lord. Be more obvious, would you?”
I smile as a smug sense of satisfaction washes over me.
Okay, so maybe I’m not as zen and evolved as I wish I were, but whatever. At least Daemon just basically admitted he’s not thinking about anyone but me, and despite knowing how dangerous that is, I can’t help but glow with pleasure.
“You’ll be riding in the second carriage, behind the king,” Dessa says, jerking me violently back to the present.
“Oh. I thought I’d be in the king’s carriage.”
Daemon’s eyes narrow. “Did you want that?”
“Uh, no, not really. But shouldn’t he want to?”
I feel like I’m beating a dead horse into dust, trying to make anyone else worry about how the king doesn’t seem to care about Isabelle. Or maybe they all know, but they just don’t know what to do? Initially I wasn’t worried about this at all, but now that I’ve grown closer to everyone, I wish I’d tried harder in the beginning to help.
But would that have mattered?
Is it stupid to feel responsible for not breaking the curse when I probably never could to begin with?
“No one rides in the king's carriage,” Daemon says, startling me. “To do so would imply equal status.”
For a second, I forgot what we were talking about, my mind is such a jumbled mess. “Oh…” I shift uncomfortably. “Will I be alone in my carriage as well?”
Daemon’s eyes dart over me, humor and heat flashing in his expression. His mouth quirks up into a smirk. “No. As both the head of the guard and brother to the king, the second carriage is mine. I hope you don’t mind getting to know me instead.”
I feel a flush rising to my cheeks. No. No, I don’t mind one bit.
Beside me, Odessa looks back and forth between us. She lets out an exasperated sigh and throws her hands up before walking away. I think I hear her mutter something about “hopeless.”
The carriage lurches and bumps along the road, the wheels creaking ominously as we all trundle toward the Ashwater Estate. I now realize why we rode horses last time. The carriages are slow, made even slower by how we have to move in such a large group.
The carriage has two identical benches on either side, and Daemon is sitting on the opposite. We haven’t talked much since the procession started moving.
I sit stiffly, peering out the tiny window. “Are you okay with this?”
Daemon looks up from his lap. “With what?”
“With Thorne deciding to use your house without asking your permission.”
He grimaces but only grunts in response.
I have no idea what his fucking problem is.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask, unable to take the silence for another minute.
“Why would you think that?”
“I don’t know, maybe because you’re not talking to me? And not to harp on about the obvious, but every time you seem to let your guard down just the tiniest bit, you get weird and moody afterward and I don’t see you for days.”
He narrows his eyes. “I don’t do that.”
“Yes, you do,” I insist, my voice raising slightly.
“Shhh!” he hisses, glancing behind at the wall of the carriage behind which the driver is sitting.
He leans in close to me and lowers his voice to barely more than a whisper. “I’m not ignoring you, Peaches, I just have no fucking idea what to say to you right now. There are dozens of people all around us, and these coaches aren’t exactly soundproof. I can’t talk about Thorne, or anything that might sound strange if overheard…like this, for example.”
“So you can’t just make small talk with me,” I hiss, slightly offended. “I thought we were at least at the point where we could hold a conversation.”
He shakes his head. “Not like this. I’m trying to pretend you’re not you, and I refuse to have a conversation with you while pretending you’re someone else, and anything I would say to you, I definitely wouldn’t say to Isabelle .”
His explanation sends my mood into a ninety-degree turn, and suddenly I’m so much happier. “Really?” I ask, the corner of my mouth tipping up. “What would you want to say to me?”
“Alix,” he intones, his voice full of warning.
I grin. “Just tell me one thing. I promise, no one will notice.”
He shakes his head.
A small rebellious part of me seems to wake up and sniff the air. I reach across the carriage and make as if I’m fixing his collar, while actually grazing my thumb over the exposed skin of his tattooed collarbone. “We could always not talk.”
I feel his sharp intake of breath the moment my skin touches his. “Alix, don’t. You think if I can’t even talk to you with others around, then this is better? I’m not allowed to touch you.”
My mischievous grin widens. “But you’re not. I’m touching you, so you haven’t done anything wrong.”
He shakes his head and leans back, gently lifting my hands off his shoulder. “Good fucking god, you’re trying to kill me. Literally . I’ve already made enough mistakes with you to get any other guard executed without trial. If anyone saw this, we’d better hope I manage to kill Thorne before he kills me.”
My breath hitches. I hear what he’s saying, but the small rebellious part of me that I’ve kept hidden for so long has been unleashed.
A surge of excitement and bravery shoots through me. “What if you didn’t touch me, then,” I breathe. “What if you just looked?”
With a boldness I definitely didn’t have a few weeks ago, I slide across the carriage and onto his bench. His eyes widen, and he glances quickly behind him again as I climb into his lap, my knees pressing into the bench on either side of his thighs. My enormous dress fans out around us and his hands come up to my waist on instinct.
I lower myself down onto his lap and find him already rock hard against me. I press down harder, teasing.
“Alix,” he warns. “I’m not fucking joking. The driver is right behind me, and Thorne’s carriage is right in front of us.”
“So we’ll be quiet, then. My dress covers everything important anyway.”
He tips his head back against the wall, looking almost in pain. “You were born to torment me.”
The tendons in his neck strain, and I’m sure that he’s so close to the edge it would only take a breath to push him over.
I reach up and take hold of the ribbon holding the front of the dress together and give a deliberate tug. It falls open, spilling my breasts out directly in front of his face.
The carriage passes over a particularly large bump right then. “Fuck.”
I bounce on his lap, and he hisses, grabbing my waist harder and pulling me down against him. Our gazes connect, and then he’s stretching up to press his mouth to mine. I gasp, excited.
“Fine, you win,” Daemon growls against my lips. “If Thorne finds out and executes me for this, it will not matter, you’re killing me anyway.”
A warm tingle passes over my entire body, stealing my breath as Daemon moves his mouth from my lips, down the column of my throat. He scrapes his teeth over my skin, nipping softly, and finally makes his way to the top of my breast.
I drape my arms over his shoulders and hang on, bowing my back to give him better access.
His hot mouth covers one nipple while he rolls the other between his fingers. Sparks of pleasure shoot through me and land between my thighs.
I rock against him without really meaning to. “God,” I moan softly. “I could fucking come from this.”
He looks at me and pulls back, my breast sliding out of his mouth. “From what?”
I rock my hips against him again to illustrate my point and lean over to whisper against his ear, “This.” I rock again. “Last night I was so, so close even before you touched me. I feel like I’m always on edge lately.”
He lets out a breath. “Fuck, Alix.”
I roll my hips against him again, the scratchy fabric of his trousers doing delicious things to my throbbing pussy. I press down, rubbing against the ridge of his hard cock in his pants. “Do you still think you’d get in trouble if you didn’t even fuck me but I still come all over your cock?”
He mutters something I can’t understand and it takes me a moment to realize it wasn’t English. “What was that? I think your magical translator failed for a second.”
He lets out a harsh laugh that’s more of a sigh. “I said, ‘you’re so fucking sexy it’s like torture.’ But you're wrong about the translator.”
“Hmm?” I press another kiss to the side of his sharp jaw, not even caring that the stubble scrapes against my skin. “What do you mean?”
He leans his head back against the wall of the carriage and watches me almost lazily, still fondling my breasts as I grind against him. It takes him a second to answer my question, clearly distracted. “I mean I’m always speaking English to you.”
I gasp, as the fabric scrapes just right against my clit and a little jolt of pleasure shoots through the base of my spine. “I know. Fox told me, we can magically all understand each other.”
“That’s true—” he groans softly as we go over another bump and my rolling hips bounce even harder against him. He swears under his breath and starts again. “That’s true, but I also speak English. I was banished to the UK, remember? How do you think I was able to talk to you in your world if I didn’t speak English?”
Oh. I hadn’t really thought about that. Maybe that’s why he has a different accent than the others, because he’s actually speaking to me and it’s not filtered through whatever magical weirdness is translating everything.
I lean back for a second, distracted. “So what language would you speak if not English?”
He moves his hands down to the point where my thighs meet my hips and holds me through the fabric of my gown, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh below my hipbones. He yanks me forward and I have to cover my mouth to stifle a moan.
“Vernali,” he answers finally. “It’s very similar to your French language. I’m sure there was some Fae influence somewhere back in your history to make the languages so similar.”
“Show me. I want to hear it.”
“Now?” he asks, pointedly, scraping one thumb over my peaked nipple.
I nod. I’m not sure if he’ll be able to show me, or if Ellender will translate these words like all the rest of them, but I want to try. For some reason, I really want to know what he’d sound like in his native language.
I reach between us and rub him through his trousers, the back of my hand brushing against my own wetness. I’m so fucking turned on right now that if I undid his belt, he could slide into me without even trying.
Daemon groans low in the back of his throat. “Tu es tellement belle que je ne peux pas me contr?ler en ta présence.”
“I like it.” Panting, I rub him harder, resuming trailing kisses along his jaw.
“Alix, don’t,” he says in English, trying to push my hand back. “My control is so low right now and I absolutely can’t fuck you in this carriage.”
“I mean, you could.” I cock my head. “Say something else in your language.”
He does, the words coming out on another moan as I flick the button of his trousers open. “Je suis amoureux de toi, mais tu vas être ma mort.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’re a beautiful demon sent here to torture me.”
I can’t tell whether he’s being serious or not, but regardless, I snake my hand below his waistband and drag my fingers over his hard length. “If you really want me to stop, I will. But otherwise, I’m going to wrap my hand around your cock and drag it against my clit. And then I’m going to impale myself on it and ride you until we both come with all those people right outside?—”
“For the love of Gods, Alix.”
“Or I can stop.”
He pulls me even tighter against him and lets his head fall forward into the crook of my neck. He growls low in his throat, opening his mouth to sink his teeth into my skin. “Don’t you fucking dare stop.”
I do exactly as I promised—I reach beneath my dress again and wrap my hand around his cock and pull it out, squeezing lightly and running my thumb over the tip. He hisses, and I smile as I guide his head to my entrance, running it over my throbbing clit a few times first. Then, I line him up, and slide down in one swift motion. Daemon curses again in Vernali.
“Quiet,” I remind him. “Wouldn’t want Thorne to hear you.”
He closes his eyes and presses his face against my neck again, to muffle his voice as he continues muttering under his breath.
Feeling immensely powerful for once, I lift my hips and begin a new rhythm. Heat starts building again, radiating from the base of my spine, down my legs, and into my toes, making them curl inside my shoes.
“Tu te sens tellement bien Pêches. Je ne désirerai jamais personne d’autre que toi.”
A whimper escapes me as our bodies meet again and again, and I can feel the orgasm just out of reach.
Daemon grips my hips and helps me go faster, lifting me up and slamming me back down so hard I’m practically crying from the pleasure of it.
He grabs the back of my head with one hand and pulls my mouth back to his, kissing me and stifling my scream just as white-hot pleasure finally courses through me. Every muscle in my body squeezes and I feel him tense as my release pushes him over the edge.
“Je pense que tu es mon soul-bond,” he says, breaking our kiss.
My entire body is loose and lazy, but at those words, my eyes widen and I pull back from him again.
“What’s wrong, Peaches?” he says in English.
“Um, nothing,” I breathe. “Just thought I heard something, but it’s fine. I don’t think anyone heard us.”
He nods, placated by that.
It’s not nothing, though.
I don’t know how the magic works or why I can understand some things but not others, but evidently, there’s no direct translation for “soul-bond” because I heard that word as clear as day.
And I’m afraid to think how I feel about it.