Chapter Seventeen #2
“Now, I wonder if it had been premeditated on Silenia’s part.
She knew how much Thorne meant to me, that losing him would wreck me.
He’d been my everything. She seduced him because otherwise I’d have proposed to him, and we would’ve had children.
Thorne had three sisters who would’ve been delighted to carry my heir.
By taking him away, she not only ensured I would have no heir, but she also broke my heart so thoroughly, I didn’t want to be with another man.
For a hundred years, Silenia has been first in line to the throne.
She’s seventy years my junior. Without an heir to inherit my throne, she would’ve enjoyed power for decades.
But I was bitter about what she’d done to me.
I didn’t want her to have my throne. So I set out to find a husband. ”
“Not a wife?”
“No,” Iver said with a smile. “Women have never interested me. I don’t think I could’ve made myself produce an heir with a woman. Not without the help of a midwife, and then the court would’ve talked.”
“And Silenia’s children—” William’s eyes widened, and he stopped himself as he grasped the enormity of it.
“They’re Thorne’s. To this day, I can barely look at them. Silenia and Thorne married. They bonded.”
William’s jaw dropped. For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, but he didn’t.
“When I saw her with you in the hall of ancestors,” Iver continued, “it threw me back to when Thorne left me for her. I had invited her to our wedding because, well, it had been a hundred years. I hadn’t thought she’d meant harm when she started spending time with Thorne.
She’d fallen in love, and her feelings for Thorne had overwhelmed her loyalty toward her brother and king.
” Iver sighed. “I thought it’d been about love.
We buried the hatchet long before Thorne died thirty years ago.
Silenia and I weren’t close but on speaking terms. Not having her at my wedding would’ve caused unnecessary scandal and headache, so I invited her.
She’s family. I didn’t think she was malicious. I didn’t think she wanted the throne.”
“Of course not. If Charlotte had seduced my lover… Yes, I would’ve been angry and heartbroken, but over time, I would’ve accepted it. You can’t change the heart. Of course I would think she’d fallen in love and couldn’t control it. Never in a hundred years would I think she’d do it for the throne.”
“Then you mentioned you saw Silenia speak to Beatrice after that harlot showed up in our chamber. That’s when I knew.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” William’s expression was full of concern.
“Because I didn’t think you’d believe me over her if it came down to it. I’ve been left for Silenia before.”
“I wouldn’t!”
“I know that now. When I accused Silenia of poisoning me, you believed me.”
“Of course I did.” William’s jaw tightened. “She’ll spend the remainder of her life in the dungeon. It will not be pleasant.”
Iver nodded. He wouldn’t bother to confront her. But… “It doesn’t remove her from the line of succession.”
William kissed him. His lips were demanding, more forceful than ever since the winter solstice, surprising Iver. “Our children will.” His eyes sparked ferociously.
“You’re determined.”
“I know what it’s like to have someone lust after my throne.”
Iver froze. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t worry, there’s no danger.”
“Who?” If someone wanted William’s throne, Iver needed to know so he could break that bastard’s neck.
“Hold your horses. It’s not like he’s going to do anything about it.”
“Who?”
“James. Don’t worry about it. I have plans for him.”
A grin pulled at Iver’s lips. “Look at you, my cunning husband.”
“I’m learning,” William said, unable to keep the mischief off his face.
Much to their relief, Iver’s healing progressed well. Two weeks after midwinter, the healer determined he was well enough to return to the monarch’s apartment as long as she got to check on him regularly.
“But,” the healer said as she gave them her final instructions, “you must refrain from strenuous activity for the next two months. That means no sexual activity either.”
“For two months?” William asked, aghast.
“The inner organs, especially the heart, need time to heal.”
William looked to Iver with longing. Iver felt the same. He’d looked forward to returning to their private chambers, but he’d feared they’d have to abstain for a while. He hadn’t thought it’d be two months.
“You’re aware of the effects of the bond,” the healer said. “What one of you feels, the other does too. Therefore, both of you must remain celibate.”
Iver felt bad for William. After the worst of his injuries had healed, a simmering lust had returned to the bond—William hadn’t gone without sex for more than a couple of days in his adult life.
He was craving release, but if he gave in to desire, his mounting arousal and furiously beating heart would spill over into Iver and endanger him.
Iver’s appetite for sex was returning, too. How could it not with his gorgeous husband by his side, fussing over him? William hadn’t left him for a minute since he’d entered the infirmary on the verge of death.
That didn’t change in the days that followed.
They were inseparable: They slept together in William’s bed, wrapped around each other.
They washed together. They worked together, spending an hour or two in the study, William ensuring Iver didn’t overexert himself.
He was a warm and steady presence, physically and mentally.
He and Iver might’ve consummated their marriage before the assassination attempt, but they hadn’t done it while the bond flowed freely between them.
Now their vibrant connection demanded coupling when it wasn’t possible.
It made them cling to each other like their lives depended on it.
They ate together in the Green Room, sometimes joined by Ailenor and Charlotte, who were keen to assure themselves of Iver’s well-being, throwing him concerned glances across the table.
He was fine, he really was. His stomach and gullet had healed thanks to the mountainberry extract and an easily digestible diet. His heart needed more time to recover.
One late afternoon, Iver and William were sitting curled up on a divan on the balcony, the sun setting behind loose clouds, painting the sky in gold, orange and pink. William had reclined against the headrest, Iver sitting between his spread legs, helping him go through correspondence.
Among the stack of letters they’d received, one stood out to Iver—a missive from James.
After William had allocated winter fae troops to him, the number of messages, though still regular, decreased.
His letters usually contained information on troop positioning, plans for ambushes and news from the front. This missive made Iver’s heart sink.
“Eric’s been captured.”
Behind him, William sat up, looking over Iver’s shoulder as he read for himself.
According to James, Eric had run invaluable scouting missions along the Great River. On the most recent one, he’d been spotted and captured. The women he’d been with managed to flee while he was dragged away. To make matters worse, Eric was in possession of important tactical information.
“This is bad,” William said, his voice grave. “If the orcs interrogate Eric, and he, under duress, reveals our positions, our plans, our strategies, we’re in hot water.” He exhaled. “Do you think the orcs will question him? They’re known for their brute force approach, not…”
Iver pulled a grimace. “They will. Before we married, I had scouts in the south as part of an arrangement with the Summer Queen. They reported that the orcs had a dedicated interrogator capable of extracting information from the most loyal, strong-minded men. His name is Ikathurg. He’ll pry any intelligence out of Eric. ”
William wrapped an arm around Iver’s middle, absent-mindedly stroking his front. “If he spills our plans, the south is in danger. Without our tactical advantage, we can’t hold the front.”
The letter said James had launched an extraction mission, but its success was doubtful. James had failed to rescue his own cousin, Nathan, from the orcs. Still, Eric was important to William. He’d been in his employ for a long time. They had to get him out.
“Order James to continue extraction efforts even after the time he thinks Eric will have divulged our plans.”
William nodded. “I will. Eric has been loyal to me. I won’t abandon him to the orcs.” He continued his slow caress of Iver’s front, stoking the heat growing in Iver’s core.
Iver sank a tooth into his lower lip to divert his attention from the glimmering desire that threatened to flare to life. This wasn’t the time. Besides, he was still in recovery. He should tell William to stop. He didn’t—it felt too good.
With a sigh, Iver stretched and set the letter aside. He’d help William draft a reply later. It’d go out with the first horse the next morning.
William hummed, sinking a hand into Iver’s mane to massage his scalp.
“You’re playing with fire,” Iver said mildly.
“Am I?”
“Hm.” Iver exhaled, his eyes closing as he relaxed against him.
He thought of the hunt, of stalking a deer in the crisp winter forest. Anything to distract him from the desire emanating from William.
It’d consume them if they kept feeding it.
It’d been six weeks since they’d had intercourse.
Six long, desperate weeks. Something hard pressed against the top of his crease and his lower back.
“I want you so much,” William said in his ear, lips brushing the shell.
His hands slowed, but instead of easing the temptation, the languid touch was even more sensual.
Arousal rolled over them in waves. “Too bad I still can’t have you.
I want to make you feel so good.” He nosed Iver’s hair.
“God, I can’t get enough of your scent.”