Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
A good brownie never leaves the table until everyone is finished eating.
Uh… ah… um… hm… - Arienna
Standing in the middle of the royal kitchen, baking a cake mere hours after we got back from Brownston, I have never been more nervous in my life.
At least with the wasps, I wasn’t technically breaking any rules.
It’s not murder if you invite someone over, and they just happen to get eaten by your pets.
That’s just… life. Things need to eat. Accidents happen.
People die sometimes. But this? Baking him a cake full of poison in his own kitchen?
There’s no two-ways about it. This is bad. So bad. I’m a terrible brownie. I need to take myself to jail.
A high-pitched giggle escapes me as I whisk the batter in the bowl, flinging bits of it everywhere. My eyes wide, I try not to think about the two female guards behind me.
They’re standing at attention on either side of the door leading into the hall, one hand on the hilt of their swords.
Dressed in the black leather and purple trim of the Royal Guard, they cut a fierce shape in the otherwise cosy, yet state-of-the-art kitchen.
The high ceiling arcs above me. The wooden counters and island sit in a wide-open space.
And yet, the room still seems to be suffocating me.
Yanking at the collar of my jumpsuit, I set the bowl down and turn on the oven. The sun-shaped rune, symboling heat, turns red, and I ratch around the cupboards, looking for a suitable cake tin. All the while, I giggle uncontrollably.
But at least I look happy. And the guards won’t suspect a thing if I look happy. My laughter gets a little bit louder. The oven heats. I put in the cake. I try not to wring my hands.
I’m doing the right thing, I tell myself as I wait for it to bake. It’s my responsibility to save Karl, and I don’t want to die either. And if I die, then Fabia will go on a murder spree, I’m sure, and then she’ll die too. So really, I’m saving three people by killing one.
Even if he did save my wasps.
Even if his eyes told me how desperate he is to be seen as something more than the monster that people fear.
Even if the guilt in my chest is crushing me even more than this room is, the walls folding in on me until I can barely breathe.
The laughter choking in my throat, I hesitate when the oven dings. Do I really want to go through with this?
Yes.
Yes, I want to live.
Taking the cake out of the oven, I let it cool a bit before covering it with icing.
Then I take a deep breath, prepared to turn around and ask the two guards to take me to my king.
Perhaps, if I’m lucky, I’ll get there before he steps into the fairy ring with Karl.
But just as I start to turn, I realise one horrible, terrible truth.
Oh, bugger, I forgot the poison.
Placing the cake back down on the counter, I start to look through the cupboards.
Standing on my tiptoes, I peer into the ones above me.
Crouching, I sift through the ones below.
Annoyingly, there only seems to be food-safe ingredients in here.
Where the heck do people keep their poison?
With half of my body still inside a cupboard, I bite my lip as I try to think.
“Whatcha looking for?” Jace asks cheerfully, and I jump on a gasp, slamming my head into the wood. Wincing, I duck out of the cupboard, rubbing my head furiously.
“Pois–sy scenters!” I say as I shoot to my feet. I cough as I clear my throat and try again. “Pussy scenters.”
“Pussy scenters,” he says slowly as he stays in his crouch, looking up at me.
I nod sharply, then wince again as a headache starts to form.
“In the kitchen?” he says as he stands.
“Where else would you keep them?” I ask, wrenching on a big smile. “They make your pussy taste like food, and food belongs in the kitchen…” I swallow audibly.
“Uh huh.” He stares at me for a moment, and I open my eyes wide so I won’t blink.
Fabia says I get a certain twitchy look when I’m doing something “highly suspicious”, and if Jace thinks I am now, that wouldn’t be fair at all considering I’m not doing anything highly suspicious.
Only because you couldn’t find any poison.
But a fact is a fact, and technically correct is technically correct.
And oh dear gods, Jace, please believe me.
Shrugging in agreement, he turns to look at the cake. His teal eyes brighten with delight. “So what kind of cake is it?”
“Vanilla and gosberry.”
He moans as he swipes a finger through the icing. “I love vanilla and gosberries.” Sticking it into his mouth, he sucks it off, and a little noise escapes me. Dear gods, what is it with me accidentally, almost killing Jace?
He glances at me askew, and I grin so hard my cheeks hurt so he won’t suspect a thing.
“I assume this is for Richard?” he says sadly, looking back at the cake.
I nod, and he sighs as if I’ve broken his heart. “Alright then. Come on. I’ll take you to him while it’s fresh. We can do the other thing later.”
“What other thing?”
He waves my question off as he ushers me to the door. I take a step towards it, my nerves making me do whatever it is he wants me to, but he stops me with a tilt of his head. “Don’t forget the cake.”
I nod dumbly as I turn around to grab it. A part of me wants to leave it here and run back to my room. What’s the point of taking it to him if it’s not even poisoned?
I can hear Fabia rolling her eyes at me, and just to spite her, I come up with a good reason to follow through. This might not be the cake I’m going to use to poison Richard, but it’ll still get him to lower his guard for the day that I do bring him poisoned food.
Giving myself a mental pat on the back, I step out into the hall. Jace follows, pausing to relieve the two guards of their duty, and then shows me through the palace alone.
My pulse kicks hard in my throat as I realise we’re not walking in the direction of Richard’s study. Am I too late? Is he in the fairy ring already with Karl? Oh gods, is he going to think I’m bringing him a celebratory cake and that I’ve come around on him killing people?
Feeling sick, I try to think up an excuse to run back to my rooms. But by the time we stop outside of an ornate door not too far from my own, I’ve still got nothing. Jace opens the door and gestures me in while he stands outside.
But holy fuck, this isn’t a fairy ring. It’s so much worse.
Spread out before me in colours that would make Fabia weep –black, black, and more black– is Richard’s bedroom. I gulp.
“Go on,” Jace says with a twinkle in his eye. “He could do with a good meal.”
With legs that don’t seem like my own, I stumble inside. The door clicks closed behind me. My pulse screams in my skull. I’m in the bird’s nest now, and there is no escape.
“I’m in here,” Richard calls from my right, and I look through the archway to see a queen-sized bed.
Rooted to the floor in his living room, I call out on a shaky breath, “I think we should eat out here. Don’t want to get the bed dirty…”
Images of his bed being wet and stained in a different way pop into my mind.
Biting back a groan, I hurry to the black two-seater sofa before he can appear in my line of sight and lure me in there.
Staying busy, I place the cake on the dark coffee table and then grab some plates and forks from his kitchenette.
The open plan of his suite is similar to mine, and that familiarity helps me relax a little.
Turning with the plates in my hands, I jump when I find my king right in front of me. The plates fly high, as do the cutlery. His eyes don’t leave mine. Reaching up, he grabs all four items before even gravity can get hold of them.
Swallowing hard, my pulse spasming in my throat, I lean back on the counter. Screw the bed, he’s fucking me right here with his eyes.
And he’s shirtless. Why does he have to be shirtless? Why is he shirtless? It’s in the middle of the day. Surely, he should be clothed? Did he take it off when he heard it was me? Oh! If he did, that is so not fair.
“You brought me a cake?” Richard murmurs, leaning forward to put the stuff down, pressing so close against me but not quite touching.
My hands tighten on the edge of the counter. Dear gods, don’t look down. My lips parting, I lick my lips.
His eyes lower, and I blurt, “Yes, cake. I brought. Eat! We should eat… it.” I gulp.
He leans in. “There’s something I want to eat.” His breath caresses my neck. “But it’s not cake.”
Grabbing my hips, he lifts me up onto the counter. I scramble to jump down, only to realise that the orders going through my head don’t seem to be reaching my limbs. My nerves are fried. Oh no! Not again.
Breathing heavily, I watch as he spreads my legs open and drops to his knees.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I wish I was wearing a dress.
No! Bad, Arienna. Ba– Arching backwards, I forget why this is a bad idea at all. My hands fist in his hair as he kisses the fabric between my thighs.
My eyes close.
My mouth opens.
I pant heavy and hard.
His chuckle vibrates against the V of my legs. “It seems I didn’t satisfy you enough this morning.” Opening a drawer beside us, he pulls out a knife. “Allow me to apologise.”
When I jump, his arm presses across my hips, keeping me still. I pick up a plate to smash it over his head. But then he’s running the blade up my thigh, slicing the fabric of my jumpsuit clean through, and his lips are following, and fuck me.
The plate clatters back down on the counter.
“That’s better,” he murmurs as he skims the tip against my waist and pulls aside the flap of fabric.
Next, he runs the blade up my pussy, cutting my panties in half.
I clench, expecting to feel a sting, but there isn’t anything other than pleasure.
My king knows how to wield a knife. Why in Hel’s name do I find that sexy?
I should be terrified.