Chapter 6 #2
The guard deeply appreciated it. I licked his opalescent liquid from my fingertips. He liked that too.
“Delicious,” I said. “Now you’ve made me all dirty.”
“I regret nothing,” he responded.
Garret was a palace guard, dividing his time between guarding my chambers or my father’s when Maeve and Boyd were off duty. I’d let my dear friend go off and relax for a while. This was her time off now until the morning. She’d earned it.
Tall, fair-skinned, with curly blond hair closer to white, Garret was always on hand for some fun.
Walking sex, a hard cock for any occasion, just what I needed for some extra pleasure.
And he didn’t fall in love, didn’t come with annoying complications.
I liked it. I enjoyed that in a man. I wanted to fuck, not a husband.
Not that a guard would ever be a husband.
That position lay in the path of another man.
Seven days away…
Unless it goes wrong…
It couldn’t go wrong.
Enough of that headache! “Thank you as always, Garret.” I gave him another kiss for his troubles.
“No. Thank you.” He winked and pulled up his undergarments. I watched him put his golden armor back on, check his curls in the mirror.
Charming. Handsome. Princely himself. His blue eyes roamed over my naked flesh, lingering on the mess on my fingers.
I spread it across my stomach. “Branded.”
He blew a breath. “You’ll make me throw this armor off again.”
Admittedly, the temptation stirred. But no. “Until next time.”
When he left, I returned to the bath. Now tepid. I turned the small wheel by the hot pipe, let the steaming water flow again.
I spent another hour in there.
As the festival approached, I sat at my dressing table, rubbing lotions into my skin. Floral, sweet yet fresh. I liked to smell good.
A knock on my door.
“Yes?”
Garret opened the door and bowed. His formal hat on. “Your Highness, His Majesty is here.”
I immediately got to my feet, the cushioned seat rocking with the speed of my rise. Thankfully, I’d slipped on a silk dressing robe moments before the knock.
“Thank you, Garret.”
He bowed and departed, my father entering my chambers in pink robes, paler than yesterday. The wretched, straggly beard of his grated on my nerves. As did the matted mess of his silver hair. A sign of his fading, his aging--consequences of his giving up.
Heat flared at the back of my neck, spreading to my face. I tried to push it back.
It was my turn to bow. “Your Majesty. Father.”
“Hello, Son,” he replied in his croaky voice. More weakness. “May I sit?”
Garret closed the door.
“Of course, Father.”
By my balcony windows sat a white couch with golden pillows. My father ambled slowly toward it, lowering himself with great effort.
I didn’t dare offer him my help.
He looked up at me with watery emerald eyes. Their bright sparkle had gone for good. “How are you? I feel as if we haven’t spoken for a while.”
A month, to be exact. I tried to avoid him when I could. “I am well, Father. And you?”
“Stiff joints, a terrible cough. Otherwise, the same as always. Holding on.” King Oberon smiled.
You shouldn’t have a cough or stiff joints. You’re a Sidhe. You’re the king. Where did he go? Where is my real father?
I smiled back, folding my hands before me.
Spine straight. Never a slouching prince in my youth.
Whenever Father graced you with his presence, everything about you must be flawless.
Particularly his children. The times I’d been verbally destroyed for hunched shoulders, for a speck of dirt on my clothing at some royal engagement I hadn’t noticed after careful scrutiny.
Oberon’s reputation screamed ferocity, perfection, and power.
He was the most powerful man in the world.
Now, look at the skinny old man who wouldn’t terrify a nervous pigeon unbothered by my clothing.
Sidhe did not get old. He should not be old.
“I heard you were in the forest today,” he said.
“I was.”
“And you have acquired prisoners.”
Why did we need to go through this? He’d have been briefed on every detail already.
“Were you hurt?” he asked.
Obviously not… “No, Father. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Good. And you are attending the festival tonight?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Listen to me, Son. Festival aside, you must stay within the palace walls for the time being.” He released a shuddery breath. “I fear a great uprising coming.”
The great Oberon fears an uprising? Actually, fears one rather than riding out to destroy it? “Father? Why do you want me to stay inside?”
“To be safe,” he replied. “The festival is different. Heavily protected. These ventures out into the forest are too risky. Not your job. You are my only son.”
I would never guess… “There is no such thing as true safety.” Countering my father felt incredibly alien.
“As true as that is, the palace is the safest place in Summer. I want you to stay behind its walls from now on. There is no need for you and those two friends of yours to venture into battle. At least, you. It is their duty to keep us safe, to investigate these things. You are the future king.”
“I’m no coward, father,” I opposed, my breath hitching.
He stared up at me, hunched forward. “I did not label you as one.”
“I won’t hide within these walls and let unseelie scum crawl through our lands.”
He sighed with heavy sorrow. “Until every last unseelie is banished or dead, you will not rest. Is that it?”
“Exactly.”
“I admire your faith, Son. Though I do not share it.”
Then you may as well just die, you pathetic man. “A pity,” I said instead.
“I want you safe, Valance. We need you to be safe, to be king. To solidify the alliance.”
Holding back a groan, I dropped my arms to my sides. Didn’t speak, didn’t want to address the forthcoming political headache. There were seven days before it marred my life forever.
Lord Samson Florent of Spring.
Pain twinged in my temples once again. Goodness. And there, I thought my headache had passed.
The king got up. An arduous process I almost helped with, thinking better of it.
“I only say these things because I care deeply for your welfare,” he said, shuffling toward me. “The thought of losing you burns me from the inside out.”