Chapter 9
HELENA
I take small bites of the meal, keeping one eye on King Theron as I eat. Nerves churn in my stomach, and I’m not really hungry anymore, but I’m afraid he’ll be displeased if I push my plate aside.
Why is he suddenly so agitated?
The last thing I said to him… well, all I did was ask if the food was safe for human consumption. A perfectly reasonable inquiry, in my opinion, and I don’t understand how that one simple question could annoy him so much.
Annoy is perhaps too weak a word. Not only is his posture tense, but he’s radiating anger. Whenever he glances my way, his gaze is so steely that I’m unable to maintain eye contact for more than a second.
Is this to be my life now? Will I always feel on edge and at the mercy of his ever-changing moods?
I resist the urge to glance at the bed. Does he plan to keep me in his room indefinitely, or will he provide me with a room of my own?
And if I’m to stay here, will he take the bed while I sleep nearby on the sofa?
The idea of sleeping in the same room with him causes a chill to wind through me, and I struggle to finish the last few bites of salmon.
When Prince Alaric presented me to the king as a gift, I never imagined I would have to remain in such close proximity to King Theron. I assumed I would be kept in the dungeon, if not killed outright.
I want to ask my dinner companion why he hasn’t taken me to the dungeon, but I’m too nervous to speak.
I also want to ask why he promised not to kill me or force himself on me.
Not that I’m complaining; however, it seems entirely out of character for a fae male from the Winter Court.
It’s my understanding that fae from the Winter and Autumn Courts are the cruelest of their kind, since most of them have more Unseelie ancestry than their counterparts who hail from the Summer and Spring Courts.
Mercy. My heart races faster. He’s showing me mercy. How extraordinarily unusual for a fae king.
But will he expect something in return?
Will he try to make a deal with me?
Finally, I finish my meal and slowly push the plate back.
I reach for a glass of water that the glamoured slave poured, needing something to do other than just sit here while King Theron keeps shooting icy looks in my direction.
I don’t dare rise from the table. I’m not proud to admit it, but I’m afraid to do anything without his permission.
From over the rim of the glass, I steal another glance at the king, only to wish I hadn’t.
“Is there something you want to say?” he snaps. He takes one last bite of his food and shoves his plate aside.
I feel the blood drain from my face.
Be brave, be brave, be brave.
I set the glass of water on the table and hold his gaze. My pulse hammers in my ears. I have so many questions. Dare I ask one?
I clear my throat softly, then take a deep breath.
“You said you were still deciding what to do with me. Have you… reached any decisions yet? In particular, I’m wondering about the living and sleeping arrangements.
Am I really to stay in your room? But I’m also curious about how I’m supposed to spend my days.
Will I be expected to work with the servants in the castle? ”
He regards me for a long moment, his features tense as ever. His jaw clenches, and a vein in his temple pulses.
Somehow, I keep holding his gaze. I blink a few times, but I don’t lower my chin. The silence stretches on to the point of unbearableness, and I start to worry he doesn’t plan to answer my questions. Until finally… his eyes flicker with the faintest hint of warmth.
“For your safety, you will remain in my room unless I personally accompany you somewhere. This of course means you will not be joining the servants. As for the sleeping arrangements, the bed is quite large. You will sleep next to me. Every night.” He lifts his eyebrows slightly and leans forward, as though daring me to refute his last statement.
My mouth goes dry, and I reach for the water.
After taking a long drink, I set the glass down with a shaky hand.
My mind reels with the answers he finally provided.
And yet now I have even more questions, most of which would likely piss him off.
So, I wisely keep silent, though I do offer a brief nod.
His bed. He wants me to sleep in his bed.
“I realize you don’t have any belongings. I will arrange for proper attire for you and other personal items to make your stay more comfortable.”
“Or you could allow me to collect my belongings from my home.” An ache pangs in my chest. I’m really going to miss living above the bakery.
Most of all, I’ll miss Isabel and her father.
They’re going to be worried sick when I don’t return.
If I can convince King Theron to allow me to return just long enough to collect my belongings, at least I could say goodbye to my dear friends.
I think about the cottage that’s now sitting empty.
If Prince Alaric hadn’t snatched me off the street after killing Peter, I could’ve taken back the cottage or perhaps rented it out while I remained at the bakery.
In any case, I would’ve had options. Options I no longer have. Freedoms I doubt I’ll ever see again.
King Theron gives a fatigued sigh and briefly pinches the bridge of his perfectly formed royal nose.
“Fine. Perhaps in a few days I will escort you to your home so you might collect your belongings. Sometime after Tribute Day. As you might imagine, I am busy preparing for that upcoming event.” He drops his hand to the table and taps his fingers.
His gaze bores into mine, and his nostrils flare as he takes a few deep breaths.
“Thank you for offering to escort me to my home so I might collect my belongings. But… only if you promise not to harm the people I was living with. I’m quite fond of my housemates.”
His tongue moves along the inside of his cheek. “Fine.” He swirls a hand in the air briefly. “I won’t harm your housemates. Fucking fires, Helena, do you think I go around murdering every human I meet?”
“Might I remind you, King Theron, that we’ve only just met?
How could I possibly make an honest assessment of your character in a few short hours?
All I know is that you killed thousands of humans in Braemar and captured the city.
All I know is that young women and men are disappearing from the streets.
From what I have witnessed thus far, you and your people haven’t shown us any mercy. ”
His eyes darken, and he abruptly stands. Then he slowly walks around the table and places a hand beneath my chin. He leans down until his cold peppermint breath wafts in my face.
My pulse skitters, my stomach flips, and yet… warmth spasms between my thighs. I tell myself it’s only because he’s so handsome and I’ve been alone for far too long.
I’m not attracted to him.
He’s a monster.
A cold, irredeemable fae king.
“I’ve shown you mercy, darling human, have I not?” he eventually says, and there’s a quiet but dangerous lilt to his voice.
My breath catches in my throat, and I struggle to form a response. Yes, technically, he has shown me mercy. But…
“I’m still your captive,” I whisper. “I’m not free to go.”
He reaches for my face with his other hand and cups my cheeks with a tenderness that makes me quiver. Once again, I think I see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. I can’t look away. I can scarcely breathe. My scalp prickles with awareness and tingles sweep throughout my body.
Flushed. The Winter King, despite the physical cold that emanates from him, is making me flush. To my utter dismay, the ache in my core deepens.
“You have no idea what I’m truly capable of. If you knew, you would be on your knees praising the gods for the mercy I’ve shown you thus far… the mercy I will continue to show you.” He runs his thumbs along my cheeks, a soft caress that makes my head spin.
“So, I’m to stay in your room at all times, eat your food, drink your wine, and sleep in your bed? That is my life going forward?” I ask with more bitterness than I intended. Frustration sears me, a burn of indignation. Does he think I’ll be content living in a gilded cage?
As for sleeping in his bed, that will not happen. I have no intention of cooperating with that edict of his. It’s bad enough that he plans to keep me in his room.
My stomach abruptly drops to the floor. Surely he doesn’t plan to remain in Braemar forever. I know some of his people will stay. Braemar will likely remain under fae control for a long time, if not indefinitely.
But surely at some point, he will depart with his army to conquer another human city, or perhaps to return to the Winter Court. What then? Will I be forced to join him on the road and sleep in his tent?
The idea of leaving Braemar, the only home I’ve ever known, sends a wave of apprehension through me.
King Theron doesn’t answer me right away, but he keeps holding my face in his huge hands and stroking my cheeks with his thumbs. Does he know how much his touch is affecting me? Does he have any idea how conflicted he’s making me feel?
There’s a knock on the door, and the slave from earlier enters with several other slaves who appear equally glamoured.
They’re carrying buckets of steaming water.
I watch from the corner of my eye as they carry the water into the bathroom, presumably to pour into the massive, claw-foot tub I spotted earlier during my explorations.
The king releases my face and steps back. “It’s almost time for bed. But I thought perhaps you would enjoy a bath first. Come.” He reaches for my hand and guides me to my feet.
A bath. Nerves skitter through me. I pray he doesn’t plan to watch.
He promised not to kill me or force himself on me, but he didn’t promise to leave me alone entirely.
I’m starting to get the feeling that he intends to dance around the lines of propriety, particularly given his wish for me to sleep in his bed.
The glamoured slaves depart the bathroom and head for the door. Just like last time, King Theron sends a gust of wind to open it, then it slams shut after they exit the room.
He gives me a smug look, as though daring me to call him rude again. I’m too nervous about possibly getting naked in front of him to offer a retort of any kind, and I press my lips together and focus on the massive tub that sits in the middle of the bathroom.
To my relief, he releases my hand and nudges me inside.
He lingers in the doorway. I take a few steps closer to the tub, then turn to face him, only to wish I hadn’t.
His leather pants have become very tight, and there’s an unmistakable bulge in the crotch area.
I quickly avert my eyes. Heat engulfs my face.
After a few seconds, I force myself to meet his gaze, fully intending to order him out, but he speaks before I can.
“Let me know if you need any help, darling human.” He winks at me, turns on his heel, and the bathroom door slams shut behind him.
I exhale a long breath. Oh, thank the gods. He’s gone. He’s giving me the privacy I so desperately need.
My body breaks into a tremble, and I sink down on a chair near the tub, needing a moment to gather my wits.
I glance at the door and frown when I don’t see a lock.
Not that a locked door could keep King Theron out.
I have no doubt he could blast the door down with his fae magic. A fierce winter wind.
Perhaps I should hurry just in case he returns.
I remove my shoes and quickly strip my dress and stockings off.
Since I don’t have an extra outfit or a nightdress, I fold the clothing neatly, intending to put the outfit back on after my bath.
I remove my chemise and set it on the pile too.
After another worried glance at the door, I tiptoe to the steaming bath and step inside.
Mmm. Delightful.
I sink into the water, unable to suppress a groan of pleasure. I haven’t had a proper bath in months. Not since I left the cottage. My little room above the bakery didn’t have a tub, so I’ve been making do with sink baths, which are, admittedly, far from satisfying.
Several partially filled bottles sit in a basket hanging over the tub.
I grab one at random and open it. The crisp, fragrant scent of eucalyptus hits me, and I pour a dash into the steaming water.
Just as I start washing, a flash of light catches my eye.
I gasp and turn to see a long-sleeved nightdress suddenly appear on the chair, a pair of undergarments alongside it.
A hint of peppermint drifts on the air, a remnant of King Theron’s magic. I stare at the nightdress with a sense of growing wonder. There's another flash of light, and a pair of fur-lined slippers materializes beside the chair. Finally, a third flash produces a thick, white robe.
“You’re welcome!” comes a deep, masculine voice from the other side of the door.