Chapter 12
Pip
The walk to the Queen’s audience chamber took us through a series of corridors that were progressively more intimidating—wider, taller, the stone giving way to marble, the iron sconces replaced by crystal and gold fixtures.
The footman led us through a set of grand doors, sixteen feet tall, carved with patterns of vines and stars, and into a massive throne room.
Queen Delsynarea was seated on a high-backed throne, elevated on a dais, making her power far more visible than it had been in the sitting room.
She wore deep blue robes that pooled around the chair like water.
Lord Frost stood to her left, his posture rigid, his gaze flicking to my shorts with a flicker of disapproval before settling on a point over my head.
Yep, he still didn’t like me. A woman sat at a desk, quill at the ready.
I wondered if the venue choice was intentional, a message, or if this just happened to be the room she was in.
She looked at my shorts. Her lips made a small twitch that I took to be approval, but maybe that was just the optimist in me.
“Sit,” she said, and gestured to two chairs across from her, positioned beside a small table that held a tea service and a plate of small, beautifully decorated cakes.
I rushed to a chair and sat. Aeldryc settled with military precision, even in a sitting position. My eyes locked on the cakes. Aeldryc’s gaze narrowed in a silent warning. I gave a little shrug. Last time, I’d thought I was dreaming. This time, I was just starving.
I went back to staring at the cakes, my mouth watering. I realized Aeldryc hadn’t given me time for breakfast—or maybe the blowjob and long shower were to blame. It was almost like he wanted me to fail!
“You may eat,” the Queen said.
I lunged for a cake. The first bite was so good I made a sound that had them both staring at me.
“What?” I asked. “I didn’t have time for breakfast!”
“Because you were bathing for a full hour,” Aeldryc muttered under his breath. I thought about that as I stole another cake. Perhaps it had been an hour. I didn’t have a watch, so who was to say?
The Queen watched me eat the cakes with an expression that hovered somewhere between bemusement and curiosity. So I took a third, because it turns out that vigorous sex with a fae warrior makes a person quite hungry. She didn’t stop me.
“Commander,” she said, turning to Aeldryc. “Your report on the twink.”
I was beginning to regret the twink jokes I’d made on the first day. Since then, everyone had been acting like twinks were a rare magical being with abilities that went beyond good fashion sense. But I wasn’t sure if it was polite to correct the Queen, so I ate another cake.
Aeldryc straightened, which should not have been possible given that he was already the straightest-sitting person I had ever met. “Your Majesty. I have conducted a thorough interrogation of the subject over the past several days.”
I pressed my lips together, thinking of how he’d bent me over his desk yesterday and thoroughly interrogated every single inch of my insides. Must not giggle.
“My assessment is that Pippin Crane is, with high confidence, an innocent victim. He arrived through means he does not understand and cannot replicate. He has no knowledge of the mechanics of transport, though further questioning has uncovered the presence of a mirror that could possibly be a portal of some sort in his home world. He has no connection to any known magical faction, and no training in any form of magic.”
He paused and waited until she nodded for him to continue. I took another cake, and stuffed it into my mouth to hide my growing urge to crack a dick joke.
“It is my belief that he was subjected to some form of dark magic. There was a mirror involved, and it’s likely that he was innocent collateral damage.”
“Of the mirror?”
“Yes, whoever enchanted this object must have created it for a purpose, but Pip was not involved in that. He poses no threat to the Crown or the realm. He is, in my professional judgment, exactly what he appears to be: a human civilian who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“So he is not a twink.”
“My research has confirmed that ‘twink’ is a subcategory of humans in his realm, but I’ve found no evidence that they have access to any dangerous magic.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from laughing.
The Queen’s gaze slid to me. Cool, assessing. “And your interrogation was thorough.”
“Extremely thorough, Your Majesty.”
I looked at the ceiling. I looked at the cakes. I looked at anything that was not the Queen or Aeldryc because if I made eye contact with either of them I was going to say something that would make this worse.
“Are you absolutely certain?”
“He is really, really good at interrogation.” The words leapt from my mouth.
“Like, I’m a terrible liar in general, but after—” I gestured vaguely between myself and Aeldryc.
“I mean, it’s basically impossible to lie after that, er, interrogation.
You just kind of melt into a puddle of honesty.
” A puddle of honesty and cum. “He should teach a class. In interrogation, I mean, not sex.”
Shit. Why had I said that? The silence that followed was concerning. Aeldryc went still beside me.
The Queen was staring at my chest, making me regret my open-collared shirt. Her eyes dropped to my thigh, where there was most definitely a bite mark. I quickly crossed my legs to cover it.
Her mouth twitched, and I very much hoped it wasn’t evidence that she was fighting the urge to have me executed.
“I see,” she said. “Your methods have evolved, Commander.”
“Your Majesty, I assure you that the interrogation was conducted—”
“Spare us.” She lifted a hand. The gesture was small but it shut him down like a valve closing.
“The crown has come to a decision. We are placing the human twink in your care until we decide otherwise. Let it be noted that by our order, the Twink, Pippin Crane, must at all times remain in the presence of Aeldryc the Ironstorm, commander of the Grey Guard, or in a place where the Grey Guard can account for him.”
She looked at the woman with a quill, who was frantically writing, then looked at me again, and this time the assessment was sharper. Pointed.
“He is clearly undisciplined. And we are not assured of the safety of the palace despite your considerable”—she glanced at the bite mark on my thigh—“interrogation. Therefore, you will keep him contained.”
“Your Majesty?” Aeldryc said.
“A containment collar. He is to remain within your control at all times, Commander. Keep him on a tight leash until the crown understands how he arrived and whether others will follow. The utmost caution must be exercised. And it is our opinion that his constitution is not suited for the dungeons.”
“Oh, you are very correct in that assessment, Your Highness,” I said. “I am not dungeon material.”
She gestured to the silver tea tray on the table beside her. “Collar him. You may use that.”
Aeldryc looked at the tea tray. Looked at me. I could see the gears turning—duty, desire, the deeply inconvenient overlap between the two.
“Is this like a sexy collar?” I asked.
Aeldryc cleared his throat and shot me a hard look. “The Queen has issued her commands. We must obey.”
“But, like, it’ll be fun too, right?” I winked.
I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I mean, just in case you’re asking if it’s okay to sexy-collar me, and like fuck me while leashed, you have my full and unconditional consent. I quite enjoy being walked on a leash like an adorable and very fuckable pet.”
He blew out a breath, rolled his eyes at me, and reached for the tray.
“Mr. Crane, the crown can hear you.” The Queen’s sharp voice cut through my horny ramblings.
“Oh! So sorry, I was definitely just kidding and am definitely not having sex with the Lord Commander of the Grey Guard. Or horny about the collar.” I lowered my voice more. “My safeword is ketchup.”
“Do you just say everything that comes into your head?” she asked.
“Oh! No, of course not. I’m most definitely filtering the worst of it!”
She looked at Aeldryc. Aeldryc looked at me, and sighed.
“I can confirm that, Your Majesty.”
Her laugh rang out, sharp and unexpected, so sudden that it startled Lord Frost. I met Queen Delsynarea’s eyes and smiled at her. She dropped her chin in what I took to be a friendly nod.
“Proceed, Commander Ironstorm.”
What happened next was the most incredible thing I had ever seen, and I had once watched a drag queen do a death drop off a second-story balcony into a split at a Pride parade.
Aeldryc’s hand hovered over the silver tray.
His fingers spread, and the tray vibrated.
It was the same humming I’d felt when his magic surged during sex, but directed now, focused, a precision instrument instead of an uncontrolled wave.
The surface of the tray began to ripple, the way water moved when you disturbed it, pulling upward, stretching.
The silver lifted from the tray in a thin, continuous stream.
It twisted, elongated, divided into components that wove around each other like braided rope.
Aeldryc’s eyes were focused, his jaw set, and his magic was humming through every piece of metal in the room—the teaspoons trembling on the saucers, the gold fixtures on the wall vibrating faintly, the buckles on his own armor ringing a soft, sympathetic note.
The silver stream rose toward me. I held still, mesmerized.
It reached my throat and I felt the metal, warm from his magic, lay itself against my skin and settle around my neck like a hand, perfectly fitted, perfectly weighty.
It was close against my throat without being confining, perfectly shaped in a way that left room for movement.