EIGHTEEN
T he arrival of breakfast opened my eyes, Daylia’s sugary scent lingering after she’d quietly closed the doors.
I rolled over to stare at the king’s pillows, his own scent fading but fresh enough to suggest he’d lain in his bed beside me. Then I rose and stared at the bathing room, wondering if I’d dreamed of the king in there, wounded and wanting my company.
Meadow returned to the king’s chambers after lunch. She nudged open the door I’d left cracked, and pranced toward me with a dead rodent between her teeth. Plopping it before my feet, she then sat, tufted tail swishing as she gazed up at me with rounded gold eyes.
I peered over the book I’d been reading. “Would you like a reward?”
She blinked.
Before I said something withering, for I’d discovered she could tell how I felt from the tone of my voice, I sighed and set the book down. I didn’t feel like being glared at for the rest of the day or having my feet played with while I slept.
“Though it’s comforting to know you’re learning to fend for yourself…” I gestured toward the doors. “Kindly consume it elsewhere.”
“You’ll need to show her.” The king straightened from the doorframe I hadn’t realized he’d been leaning against.
I made a face at what might have been a giant rat. The mere thought of touching the bloodied thing made me lose all interest in finishing my lunch.
He chuckled, then proceeded to the dressing chamber and left me alone with the vermin. His wing looked completely healed, sunlight catching on the dark array of soft-looking feathers tucked close to his back.
“Could you do it?” I called.
“No.”
I huffed and returned to my meal. “So much for earning my love.”
Vane gave that no response.
Minutes later, he exited the dressing chamber in a long-sleeved charcoal dress shirt. The collar sat high. Onyx buttons gleamed, matching his fitted pants. Also his polished pointed boots. He secured his hair with a sliver of black ribbon at his nape while walking to the doors.
And the result of removing the bloodred strands that usually curtained his face…
My stomach lurched.
I blinked down at my vegetable and herb stew. Still, all I saw was the cliffs of his cheeks, the severe arches of his dark brows over impossibly blue eyes, and his finely-wrapped bulky form.
Evidently, he had important matters to tend to. Matters that required ridding his typical attire of tunics and boots that could squash someone’s head. He left his rooms without another word, and I again pondered if sitting with him beside the bathing pool had been another odd dream.
Meadow poked at her kill with a paw that was rapidly nearing the size of my own hand. She looked at me, then at the rat.
“Fine.” I leaned down to offer my hand. She leaped toward it, purring when I scratched behind her tall ears. Then I stood and pinched the rat’s tail between my fingers. “Now we take it outside.” I gave the felynx a pointed look over my shoulder on my way to the doors. “Where anything you kill must stay.”
The reason for the king’s change of clothing was a gathering of sorts taking place in the throne room.
Before dinner, I’d passed the open doors with Meadow, spying a full table before the throne crafted from bone, steel, and emeralds.
The king had been seated at the head of the long table. Cerwin and Daylia dined with him. A female with a voluptuous figure and short black hair had been at the king’s side. Beside her had been a male I couldn’t place at a glance but who’d looked vaguely familiar.
As their merriment grew, so did my irritation.
Laughter climbed through the halls, poking at my skin until I set my cutlery down. Perhaps it wasn’t so much their dinner but rather, my seclusion. For although I’d been enjoying days of idleness, I couldn’t choose this forever.
I couldn’t stay here forever, awaiting a safe way out.
And although they were clearly having a grand time, they were gathering for a reason.
A reason I needed to know about.
Firelight illuminated the carvings of winged serpentine beasts upon the dark oak doors. They remained open, so I walked into the throne room, pausing briefly to clutch my taffeta skirts and lower my head in formal greeting.
Conversation crashed to a halt.
Daylia grinned, bright and beautiful, her orange curls pinned back from her rouge-dusted cheeks. Beside her, Cerwin frowned.
Vane stared, his goblet poised before his mouth. He lowered it to the table, the crease between his brows hinting at shock or confusion. Perhaps both.
The chestnut-haired male covered his smile with his ring-bedecked hand, and a startling memory of the stuffy ballroom at Cloud Castle infiltrated.
Lord Stone.
The Seelie faerie had been present at many celebrations over the years, including that of the Unseelie’s defeat. My heart thundered in my ears. I made no comment, even as our eyes locked long enough to convey that we recognized one another.
It wasn’t uncommon for the two faerie realms of Elaysia to intermingle. But it was uncommon for nobility, who thought too highly of themselves to sully their time and bloodlines.
Daylia sighed. “My king, I believe this is where you ask your guest to join us.”
Said king blinked, then shot his steward a slight glare before rising.
“It’s quite all right.” I opted for the empty seat at the end of the table, directly opposite the king but nearest the doors. “I can seat myself.”
Cerwin chuckled, stabbing a slice of roasted duck. “I’m afraid Vane is rather lacking when it comes to courting females.”
The king sat. “You might find yourself lacking something in a minute,” he grumbled, fixated on his meal although I sensed it hadn’t any of his attention.
Everyone laughed.
Daylia gestured to the lord. “This is Lord Stone.” Her eyes twinkled. “You might know him.”
The lord gave me a nod. Far too much knowledge of where I’d come from and what I’d experienced shone in his eyes. “Call me Stone.”
I forced a smile. It wavered when silence settled, and I found the raven-haired female beside the king eyeing me curiously.
The only dish within reach was baked potatoes nestled in a bowl of rich cream. I pulled it toward me and used the serving spoon to gesture to the female. “You’ve yet to be introduced.”
Someone, maybe Cerwin, cleared their throat.
I carved into a potato, dabbed the spoon into the cream, and ate while awaiting an answer I assumed would come from Daylia. Surprisingly, the steward remained quiet.
The female had orange eyes that matched wings reminiscent of a butterfly. They shifted with her evident unease. Black dust drifted toward the empty hearth behind her, as she said in a silken voice, “Perhaps because that might be a tad inappropriate.”
She didn’t expect me to pry. So it pleased me to say, “How so?”
An amused glance was given to Vane, her hand falling upon his forearm.
And staying there.
My eyes stuck to it. Meadow made her presence known with a strange noise. Not quite a growl but more of a whine. She padded beneath my chair, then rose onto her hind legs to poke at my knee.
I shook my gaze free of the female and Vane, saying quietly, “The cream will upset your stomach.”
The felynx sat, her annoyance portrayed in her flicking tail.
Vane released a rough exhale.
He patted the female’s hand, then removed it. Gently, he set it back by her plate as the silence began to break with shifting and sipping and chewing. “Morona is a friend.”
At that, Morona served him a look that was not quite a glower. Hurt, maybe, shone in her orange eyes.
I might not have been exceptionally knowledgeable when it came to matters of the heart—unless it pertained to how I might keep it beating—but I understood that friends did not look dejected when called as such.
My tone softened. “How long have you been friends?”
Morona answered, “A few decades.”
I nodded, chewing a mouthful of potato, and decided to cease making it look like I cared when Daylia smiled up at the chandelier.
It too had been fashioned from bones. At least two dozen candles illuminated the differing shapes and sizes upon each tier. Real bones. I glanced at the sconce-lined walls, but save for two tapestries either side of the throne behind the king, the glinting rock was bare of decor.
One of the tapestries was black, a white design of another winged beast within. The serpentine body curled around the tip of a shadowed mountain, the long maw exhaling fire.
A pytherion.
A dying breed of dragon who submitted only to the king of this dark realm. Their rarity was a mercy, considering the devastation they’d caused during the first war. Remaining pytherions resided in the mountains blocking this castle from the rest of the Unseelie kingdom.
A mountain range that supposedly harbored the biggest military facility in The Bonelands.
The other tapestry was a brown-backed royal crest of wings and shadows, and the bone crown I hadn’t seen Vane wear.
Deciding to kill the tense silence and learn what I could of Lord Stone’s presence, I smiled as warmly as possible. “I’ve interrupted important chatter, I’m sure.”
“You do not seem the least bit remorseful,” Cerwin drawled.
“Because I’m not.” The large spoon hit the bowl with a clank, and I reached for the decanter of wine. I tapped my fingers over the glass, eyeing everyone. “Merely curious.”
Vane was the only one looking at me. His gaze dropped to the decanter, then returned to mine. His mouth twitched. “Would you like a goblet, Princess?”
“I’d hate to trouble you with the effort.” I lifted the decanter and sipped carefully so as not to spill wine on my flower-speckled bodice.
Out of all the gowns I’d grown fond of in the dressing chamber, this one was my favorite. Slowly, I brushed my hand over the dried orange and dusky pink flowers sewn into the delicate black silk at my chest.
Amusement danced in Vane’s eyes. He motioned Daylia to sit when she rose, likely to get me a goblet. “Is this about the rat?”
“I’m surprised you care to remember.”
“I forget nothing.” Those rough words brought forth the memory of a dimly lit bathing room and his fingers at my chin, mouth, and collarbone.
Ignoring the squirming in my stomach, I grinned, my gaze moving to the lord. “I fear I have the same affliction.”
Lord Stone regarded me with his shaven chin perched on a sparkling fist. “You’re wondering what I’m doing here,” he said, eyes flashing wide. “Dining with the enemy.”
Decorum long done away with, I reached across the table for a green bean, then lowered back to my seat and dangled it beneath my chair. “I’m all ears if you’d like to share, even if they aren’t as pointed as yours.”
Meadow snatched the bean, her sharp teeth just shy of my fingertips.
Stone huffed, chin rising from his hand. “That’s how you did it.” I frowned, but only after sipping wine and dabbing at his thin mouth with a white cloth did he explain. “Your calculated boldness is the reason you gained Prince Atakan’s attention.” He placed the cloth down and handed me a look that quaked my bones before he said the words. “And his heart.”
Vane’s stare was an uncomfortable weight.
I refrained from shifting. From letting my own heart gallop at the asinine thought. “Everyone knows Atakan has no heart.”
“Yet here you are,” Cerwin interjected, bringing his goblet to his mouth. “Perhaps the only thing he cares about and, therefore, the only way to ruin those wards.”
Daylia nudged him.
He cursed as his sip of wine spilled over his chin. She giggled, turning his glacial glare to a warm warning of punishment.
Whatever I’d hoped to glean from this dinner no longer seemed worth it.
I didn’t want to think about Atakan. Not until I had to. Not after he’d invaded my dreams. Not when I’d spent a decade with him consuming my thoughts in the worst of ways.
Mercifully, Vane got rid of the chilled silence. “Stone has been an ally of ours for some years. Garran has never known, and he never will.”
It wasn’t a threat. Rather, a statement drenched in firm confidence. By the time King Garran became aware that his friend wasn’t who he’d thought, it would be too late.
Nodding once, I sensed it was safe to ask Stone, “What made you betray your own ilk?”
“What made your own ilk betray you?” he asked, finger circling the rim of his goblet. “Opportunity, I’m sure.”
It was true. He knew it just as well as everyone in this room—including myself. So I didn’t argue. Instead, I pushed a little more. “What opportunity are you seeking?”
His answer was swift. “Retribution.” He sat back in his chair, revealing a thick scar beneath his jaw. “What else?”
What else indeed.
No longer feeling the need to pry, I waited to see if he’d provide more information, perhaps about what had befallen his late wife. I’d learned that it took very little to offend faeries. And the easily slighted were rarely ever forgiving.
Not for one second would I allow myself to believe that those in this throne room were any different, no matter how different they’d seemed thus far.
Morona remained quiet as Daylia attempted to rouse the table into merriment once more.
Assuming she wouldn’t succeed until I left, I made to stand when the lord gestured from the king to me. “You are not yet falling in love, I take it.”
That didn’t need answering.
Cerwin laughed. “At this rate, I fear many of us won’t see the rest of the continent in this immortal lifetime.”
Daylia shot him a glower.
“What?” He shrugged. “She cannot stand him.”
That piqued Morona’s interest. Her eyes sharpened on me, as though she were attempting to figure out what was wrong with me.
I hated that I needed to say something. I didn’t need to. But I refused to stay quiet and evidently bothered. “I never said I cannot stand him.”
“Then, please.” Cerwin spread his arms. “Cease dawdling and climb into his bed.”
My eyes met Daylia’s, and something warm filled my chest. She hadn’t told anyone I’d been sleeping in Vane’s bed. Not even her mate.
Morona asked, “Is your lack of affection because of the prince?” Her thin brows jumped high as she scoffed. “He is but a pretty portrait to veil the evil lurking within.”
I smiled, and the words left me before I could stop them. “You’re not wrong about that.”
Silence rang like a bell.
Then everyone laughed. Everyone, I noted, except for the king.
Vane carved into his roasted duck. Our eyes locked when he delivered a forkful to his mouth.
I watched him chew as he watched me. I smirked.
His eyes thinned slightly. Then he swallowed, and my gaze dipped to his throat.
I forced it to Daylia when she spoke as she refilled her goblet. “Males are all the same. Unaware that love means more than an obsession with humping someone.”
Unable to help it, I laughed.
Cerwin licked his lips. “I’m sensing I should keep my mouth shut.”
“Should you wish to hump me any time soon, then that would be wise.” Daylia set the decanter down.
I remembered the one before me and took a quick sip as Meadow’s snoring was interrupted by more laughter. Peering beneath my chair, I smiled. She’d curled into a ball, head tucked beneath a leathery wing.
Wood scraped over stone. “If you’ll excuse me.” Morona rose, tugging at the maroon chiffon tightly wrapped around her curved form. “I have that meeting to prepare for in the city.”
Vane immediately stood.
Morona smiled warmly at everyone, including me, before being escorted out by the king.
Watching them go, his hand upon the small of her back might as well have been an ant continuously biting my skin. I tried to ignore the odd sting. Glaring at the glass decanter, I waited for it to pass as Daylia and Lord Stone chatted about an upcoming gathering the lord was hosting.
The feeling won.
Meadow released a yawned growl when I carefully climbed out of the chair to avoid hitting her with one of the legs. She trailed me into the hall, a furry shadow I was growing too attached to, though it sometimes still grated.
Especially now, when I wanted to catch a glimpse of Vane and Morona. He led her through the formidable castle doors to an awaiting black carriage.
Before he could disappear down the blocks of stone steps into the night, I decided spying wasn’t what I needed. For some reason, I needed him to come back inside where I could see him. So I made my presence known by clipping my heeled slippers over the tiled foyer, then leaned against the curled end of the stair railing.
Meadow did a better job of giving us away. She darted through the open doors, vanishing into the dark.
Seven seconds later, Vane returned, leaving a door ajar for the felynx although she could find another way in.
“Say I do fall in love with you and free your kingdom,” I said. “Will you truly give me anything I want?”
Vane halted in the middle of the foyer, head cocked.
He studied me as if attempting to determine what I was thinking—perhaps what had caused me to interrupt his dinner.
Before I could worry that he knew, he procured a dagger from behind his back. As he crossed the foyer, eyes still tight on mine, he dragged the blade over his palm.
He didn’t so much as rustle a feather. He tucked the dagger away, then extended his hand. “A deal forged in blood is a promise unbreakable, Princess.”
Knowing what he intended to do, I offered my hand.
He ran his finger over his cut lifeline, then traced my own in his blood. “When you break the wards trapping my realm, Mildred Nephryn, I solemnly swear to give you something of your choosing.”
My cheeks warmed as his roughened finger tickled.
“Now…” Low and thick, he asked as though he had his own ideas in mind, “Any ideas on how we can move this along?”
Unable to meet his gaze, I took my hand back and stared down at his blood on my palm. “A picnic,” I said, not really thinking it through.
Not wanting to. Not even certain I wanted to do something as mundane as eating food from a basket outside with this beastly king.
But I’d never been able to forget the way Bernie had looked upon returning from one during her betrothal to Royce. Her eyes had glimmered like jewels, happiness coloring her cheeks. More than that, when she’d spoken of it over dinner, she’d seemed different.
Like she’d crossed a mystical line between desire and love.
Vane’s eyes narrowed. “Picnic?” he asked as if he wasn’t entirely sure what it was.
That was fine. He could find out.
“Yes, you will take me on one.” I smiled, turning to climb the stairs. “Tomorrow morning.”