C H A P T E R S I X T E E N
I wish I could tell her everything, but first I need her to trust me.
C H A P T E R S I X T E E N
Olwyn
T he shadows stretch longer as dusk settles over the palace, the warm light from the sconces casting flickering patterns on the stone walls.
I find myself wandering through the corridors, lost in thought, two royal guards walking silently behind me. The conversation with Sera and Thalia plays on a loop in my mind, their words about King Casius intertwining with my own fears and curiosities.
As I approach the dining hall, the scent of roasted meat and fresh bread fills the air, my stomach rumbling with hunger as they momentarily distract me. The guards who have been escorting me push open the heavy oak doors and I step inside. Altair and Iolas are already seated, deep in conversation. Altair’s dark hair falls across his forehead, his sharp features tense in the candlelight. Iolas, in contrast, is more relaxed, waving his hands about as he talks excitedly.
Both their gazes dart to me as I approach. I smile lightly, taking my seat. Altair continues to talk to Iolas but leans over to fill my plate with a variety of food. As I pick at it, the earlier conversation keeps intruding, making it difficult to focus on the present. Altair and Iolas exchange glances, but I eat, my brow falling more and more as I remember the conversation with Thalia and Sera earlier.
Altair and Iolas converse back and forth, the latter’s eyes drifting over me curiousl y? —probably wondering why I am being quiet.
Altair apparently has the same thought. “Everything all right, Olwyn?” He asks as Iolas takes a mouthful of his wine.
“What’s knife play?” I ask, my head tilting.
Iolas chokes, dribbling the drink down his white shirt before coughing. “Fuck me,” he laughs.
Altair stares at me wide eyed, the skin of his cheeks and neck darkening. He clears his throat. “Um, who have you been talking to?”
Oh no.
Is this something that will get Sera and Thalia into trouble? “I overheard some of the staff talking,” I quickly take a bite of my food and Altair’s eyes narrow at me.
“Hmmm,” his lips purse, and he meets Iolas’s gaze.
Iolas is enjoying this. He looks positively delighted.
“Do you want to explain?” Altair asks him, and he sounds uncomfortable. I look between the two. Iolas crosses his thick arms over his wine-stained shirt.
“No, no. I’ll leave this one to you, Your Majesty.” Iolas’s grin is wicked, I can’t help but notice the flush on Altair’s cheeks, the way his fingers fidget with the laces of his shirt. It’s almost… human. And so endearing.
“It’s a sex thing,” is all he says. And bluntly, like he needed to say it as quickly as possible.
But I’m now more intrigued.
“A sex thing ?” I ask. Iolas chuckles, and a muscle in Altair’s jaw ticks, before he nods.
I shake my head pointedly at him, wanting more information.
He huffs exasperated. “It’s when someone uses a blade during… intimacy , to elicit pleasure.”
“Cutting?!” I ask, horrified.
“No, that’s blood play,” Iolas chimes in.
“Iolas!” Altair’s eyes snap to him, before meeting my wide-eyed gaze. “No cutting. Just scratching or using one to remove clothes. They use it to provide sensual stimulation.”
I look away from his intense eyes. My mind drifts off on its own, uncontrolled, remembering when Altair brushed the edge of my dagger over my hand against this very table. I press my thighs together, feeling a heat build between my legs, one that I’m not sure how to handle or even acknowledge at this moment in time.
Iolas sucks in a breath, and I see Altair stiffen, his eyes darkening.
“Oh,” I say, realising they have been waiting for me to respond. I glance at Iolas, curious after his amusement at the question. “Is that something you’ve done?”
Iolas’s face goes bright red. “Uh, not usually my sort of thing .”
For some reason that feels like it makes sense, and then I think about asking him what his ‘thing’ is. My gaze moves to Altair, and I have to school my expression as I see his black eyes.
“And you?” I ask, suddenly regretful as I hear how breathy my own voice sounds.
Altair pulls at his laces once again. “Why?” he asks, his voice rough.
I shake my head. “I just hadn’t heard of it. Curious, I guess.”
Iolas shifts in his seat, with a hoarse laugh. “Innocent little witch.”
I glare at him. “Who said I was innocent?”
The shadows in the room deepen, pooling around Altair like they’re drawn to him, feeding off the tension in the air. The flickering light from the sconces casts long, wavering patterns on the stone walls, making the room feel smaller, more intimate. It’s as if the palace itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what happens next.
I look at Iolas, noting his wide eyes and now pale face.
“I’m jus t? gonna—” He trails off, jerking a thumb over his shoulder as he makes to stand from his seat.
“Sit,” commands Altair, and I’ve never heard his voice so low, but his shadow-filled eyes have not left my face, which I can feel flame under his scrutiny.
“If my dear wife feels comfortable enough to ask if I’ve fucked anyone whilst using a blade, then surely she can share more about her own experiences .”
Oh my.