Chapter 6 Boy
six
Boy
The weight of the Queen’s Shadow’s command pressed down on him like a physical force.
“Come.”
There was no doubt whatsoever in Boy’s mind that the consequences for disobedience would be severe, and his shallow breath hitched in his throat.
He was a prisoner in the palace and yet the shadow geist’s intense presence held him more captive than the small cell did.
It wasn’t just the table he had conjured, beset with mouthwatering food, nor was it the dominant way he sat upon the chair and filled nearly all the available space.
No. It was the shadows themselves that, all the while the man spoke and asked questions, had never left Boy’s body.
They roamed up his spine, over his hips, around his waist and across his chest, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
“Come,” he had been commanded, and Boy—as if enchanted—did as he was told.
“Good boy,” the Queen’s Shadow murmured, satisfaction evident in his voice. An unexpected shiver trilled up Boy’s spine at the term. Praise had never been something he’d experienced before.
“Kneel.”
This close, the lowly whispered instruction ghosted across the sensitive skin of his wrist and he swayed in place. Boy told himself he was lightheaded with hunger.
Since the shadow geist had conjured the platter of foods, he hadn’t taken his eyes off the prize. That strawberry was easily the size of a chicken egg, and Boy felt no shame in wanting to taste it.
Boy had always preferred clear and simple orders over the responsibility of taking initiative, so of course he dutifully knelt.
The cold damp from the stone floor soaked through the patched wool of his breeches, and as he carefully eased back to rest on his heels, he came face to face with a pair of pristine black leather riding boots, criss-crossed with multiple thick straps and big silver buckles.
The man had said he wasn’t there to kill him, and Boy was surprised to discover that he believed him.
Still, the geist had used his magick to conjure all this sumptuous food, and had shared it so generously…
Surely he wanted something in exchange? The fearful cautions from the woman whom Boy had befriended on the journey rang loud in his mind.
This was the Queen’s Shadow, after all; acts of kindness were not his legacy.
So, if not Boy’s life, then… Boy blushed and dropped his gaze.
Could he do that? Did he want to? There was no denying the geist was far more handsome than Boy had ever considered.
More benevolent too. Those shadows others feared, the ones that were rumoured to have parted men from their flesh in the blink of an eye, had bestowed nothing but gentle caresses over Boy’s skin since they first filtered under the cell door, and the heated yearning they inspired rivalled his desire for that strawberry.
The Royal Shadow let go of Boy’s hand and leaned back in his chair, then lifted his feet and brought them to rest casually upon Boy’s thighs.
The rough stone was unforgiving beneath his knees, but he didn’t dare complain.
Instead, he eyed the strawberry, and when its sweet aroma wafted to him, he inhaled deeply.
Warily, he lifted his gaze and found the Queen’s Shadow watching him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat.
There was a hunger in those dark eyes that pinned him firmly in place.
Boy returned his view to the strawberry when what he interpreted as a predatory smile spread across the man’s face.
“Will you let me feed you?”
Boy’s mind spun as he tried to process the emotions that swarmed his insides like bees—fear, trepidation, and something that felt dangerously close to excitement.
He knew, from the moment his father offered him in lieu of the tithe, that he would die at the end of this journey, but what he hadn’t expected was any of…
this. Where was the dark spirit who had earlier forced his way into the cell, rattled the door, and whispered promises of death?
The geist before him was at odds with the terrifying tales his brother had told.
Boy’s existence felt like a fever dream.
When that gloved hand held out the strawberry, Boy ceased all wondering about what might be occurring in the mercurial geist’s mind, and his entire being followed the bright red fruit closely.
In a swift and unexpectedly savage move, the Queen’s Shadow closed his fist around it so tightly that the sticky juices he had teased earlier oozed from between his leather-clad fingers.
Boy didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and didn’t blink.
He shouldn’t have been surprised—but he was. Why conjure the strawberry, offer the strawberry, then destroy the strawberry? It was almost as if the shadows and the man were at odds: one nurturing and one merciless. A ball of hot anticipation coiled deep within his stomach.
That vice-like grip didn’t relent until Boy raised his face and looked deep into the geist’s swirling black eyes. “When I ask you a question, you will answer.”
Pulpy drops splattered onto the riding boots still in Boy’s lap.
“Lick it up.”
Boy faced a dilemma. Did he really want to waste his final moments working out the deeper machinations of the geist’s behaviour, or instead simply accept his lot and go for what he wanted the most?
Dutifully, and without hubris, Boy stuck out his tongue and lowered his head. He bent until he could taste the salt and the smoke and the leather, and he lapped until he tasted the sweet, ripe juice of the fruit. Enamoured, he licked again.
And again, once more.
He licked with fervour until the boot was clean and his mouth was awash with the taste of summer.
He licked until a gloved finger worked its way under his chin and commanded his head up.
Boy failed to suppress the soft whimper at its loss.
The strawberry was everything he had wanted it to be, and the intense flavour lingered on Boy’s tongue.
The Queen’s Shadow pressed his middle finger to Boy’s lips. “Shhhh.” In concentric circles, he smeared the sticky, sweet juice over Boy’s mouth.
That glazed look in those dark eyes surely matched his own. What was this madness between them?
Thick shadows coiled around Boy, cooling his overheated skin, and the tension that had knotted itself within him dissipated. This was the same magick that swirled in the eyes of the Queen’s Shadow, eyes that looked at him with an almost painful intensity.
But Boy was slowly learning to read the messages hidden in their depths. So when the leather riding boots retracted from his lap, he remained perfectly still. Sure enough, strong legs were instantly planted on either side of Boy’s knees, bracketing him securely between them.
The man leaned forward in his chair and deftly unfastened the fine thread that bound the collar of his shirt. Was he overheated too? The thought that the legendary spirit was as undone by the happenings in this cell as he was messed with Boy’s tentative equilibrium.
To accommodate the chair’s backrest, he split the long tails of his coat, which stopped just short of the wet stone floor.
It was a good thing, too, because only now did Boy notice the golden embroidery on the hem that depicted small skulls, many with their mouths open in anguish.
Despite the macabre nature of the design, he thought it would be a shame for them to become tarnished with the grime that coated the cell.
“Would you like a drink?” The geist’s voice was deep and calm, almost soothing.
It raised the hairs along the back of Boy’s neck, and he shook his head.
“Are you thirsty?”
Boy could sense those black eyes following his every move.
The man’s raw desire seemed to burn through to Boy’s very soul, and he shivered involuntarily.
But he still hadn’t answered the question, and that the Queen’s Shadow had asked the same thing twice meant that Boy had chosen incorrectly the first time.
He hurriedly nodded his head. Yes, he was thirsty.
“Use your words.” The low growl that backed the demand rolled over Boy’s skin.
“Y-yes.” His voice was weak, even to his own ears.
With a steady hand, the man poured a generous glug of amber liquid into the same cut glass tumbler he had drunk from earlier. It swirled and splashed and soaked up the flickering golden light from the lamp, and Boy tracked the motion as if mesmerised.
The Queen’s Shadow took a slow sip, then held out the glass.
Boy hesitated, and the quiet and displeased click of the man’s tongue came only a moment before his gloved hand wrapped around Boy’s own, and the cold glass was pressed into his palm. “You said you were thirsty.”
The rim of the glass against his lips filled his nose with the scent of late-season apples and potent alcohol.
Warm and sweet, the drink reminded him of the apple cider moonshine his family made, but his reminiscence was cut short when the geist selected another large and ripe strawberry from the pile on the table beside him.
An unspoken reward? A silent promise? Enthused, Boy tipped the glass further. He swallowed rapidly against the invasion, but it was too much, and his mouth flooded. Some went the wrong way. Tears formed in his eyes, and he coughed and spluttered.
As Boy fought to regain his composure—chest heaving, and face and linen tunic soaked through with what he recognised belatedly as apple brandy—a firm pat landed between his shoulder blades.
Once, twice, three times, before the Queen’s Shadow sat back in his chair, dark eyes intently focused on Boy, who lowered his in favour of the large silver buckles on the riding boots.
“Look at me.” The demand sent a jolt of something through Boy’s body. He wiped over his eyes with the back of his free hand and struggled to suppress a cough, but complied nonetheless.
The geist took the now-empty glass from Boy, and offered up the tasty fruit once more.