Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Kong
“Stay with Kong,” she says over her shoulder as we skirt around a tall glass centrepiece.
One day…
We have only one more day here, after losing two to her catatonic state.
My queen wishes to speak with Lord Bled, alone. So, at first-light, I’m escorting her and her Army ladies toward a dim saloon, completely empty but for Lord Bled, who sits at a table deep in thought.
Waiting for her…
I know what she is going to say: that she will not be going home. She will continue her campaign with me as planned. Here is the hard part: if Rome asks Bled to send her home, she wants him to lie to him.
Lie to the king.
If Bled truly loves her, he may lie for her and tell the king she merely had a fever at her celebration. If he holds regret for not rescuing her, as he has mentioned, he may bite into the shards of this betrayal and swallow them—tell the king that she is now fine to travel.
The mere thought of this betrayal wounds me in ways I cannot fathom. To deceive the King of The Cradle, the boy I helped raise, the man I now respect, would devastate me.
I observe from behind the queen, tension and discomfort coiling in my chest, as she approaches one of the Guards at the entrance to the saloon.
Since last night, she has carried herself differently, spine relaxed, eyes drifting around with more ease.
Still tiny in stature, she seems grand in other ways.
It makes my heart race with pride and my blood simmer with dread.
I’ve seen her go from confident to feeling fake with no warning.
Seen her shift roles and identities, never settling on one for long.
After the incident at her party, I have to be vigilant.
I know at any moment, she could need me, could feel little or strange.
She stands before the Guard and says, “I command you to wait outside until I am finished with Lord Bled. No matter what. No one is to enter.”
Did she really just say that? She commands him? She commands him?
The thought ignites jealousy in me, flaring up like a flame.
“Don’t move,” I say to Essen, Ana, and Brook, before striding over to the Guard in question, who looks up at me, shock etched across his face.
“Where were your eyes right now? On her face?” I growl.
Didn’t I warn them all not to make eye contact with her?
Not to place their heavy thoughts in her line of sight? Fuck this guy. Who is he?
“What is your name?” I order.
“Hammer, my lord.”
“I’m no lord—” Fuck it. “Stay right there. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
Turning my back on him, I kneel in front of my tiny queen, bringing myself to her level. Our eyes lock, and I feel the weight of my words as I say, “You command me, little queen. I command them.”
She lifts a brow, confusion crossing her delicate features. “What’s the difference?”
“The difference is,” I growl, my voice deep and rough, possessed by a territorial need. “I need to hear it from your lips. I need to know exactly what you want, not second-hand information that could be misinterpreted.” I know I’m acting irrationally, but I can’t stop myself.
“Wait outside until I am finished with Lord Bled?” She begins, trying to suppress a giggle. Fuck me, that giggle. “How could they misinterpret that?”
“Don’t underestimate the way your beauty affects men,” I say. “Especially when you command them. I’d be surprised if he heard a damn thing you said over his roaring heartbeat.”
“You hear me just fine,” she counters, a playful curve to her lips.
“I have excellent hearing,” I reply, narrowing my gaze on her. She is… glowing this first-light. I only need that pretty beam to remain, and for that, I need to monitor her every interaction, watch for triggers, respond with uncompromising suspicion. I have to.
“So…” She drags the word. “It has nothing to do with you not liking me talking to other Guards, then?”
“I’m not a Guard. I’m your Guardian,” I correct, leaning in closer. “And that would be insanely jealous behaviour.”
“Wouldn’t it?” She smiles, and my heart pounds despite my frustration.
“If you have needs or demands, they are mine to hear and meet. I am your Guardian. Your commands are mine. You’re mine.”
She sighs at my declaration, and I can see the effect it has on her. Her fingers flex, wanting to touch me, to feel me lean into her soft fingers, but I know people are watching.
With a determined lift of her chin, she asserts, “I command you to wait outside.”
I nod. “As you wish, my queen.” No matter the words exchanged, my body, soul, and heart are irrevocably hers to command.