Konrad
He doesn't seem to realize you're Reinhilde.
If the ghost haunting my armor is telling the truth… I'm kissing the woman I once intended to kill.
Or am I? He also called her Verena earlier.
I'd like to figure out the true identity of this sinfully beautiful ruby-haired woman, but there's no chance of that happening while she's kissing me like this. Like she can't get enough—and she's not the only one.
Hell, the only thing that's kept me from taking things much further is our very vocal audience.
An Isenmerian horse stomps in his stall, snorting, "What a lusty lout! He'd better stop pawing at her like this. Humans shouldn't mate in stables."
"And just why not?" a mare whinnies. "It's good enough for us, isn't it? I hope that lad gives her the ride of her life!"
Another horse neighs, "I'll not watch the queen of Isenmere mounted like a bitch in heat!"
Fucking Crones, I really need to get us out of this stable.
The sooner I get my ruby-haired temptress all to myself, the sooner I can unravel her mysterious identity. After that, I can offer to let her…
Bite me for blood?
The armor ghost mentioned something about feeding. If this reverie in my lap wants my blood—as she seems to, since she keeps lapping the cut near my lip—then maybe she's not Isenmere's queen, after all. Maybe she's something demonic straight out of the Loomdark.
Maybe if I willingly give her my blood, she'll drag me far away from this castle, back to her lair, where she will torture me with such erotic kisses forever.
A man can hope.
Trying to ignore the chatter of the horses, I stifle a groan when she teases my tongue with hers, sucking softly on it. My heart pounds, heat soaring through my body as I kiss her back.
Her explorative lips finally move from my mouth, pressing down my jaw until she murmurs against my throat as if speaking to herself.
"Oh, shit. I'm going to end up fucking a knight if I don't watch myself."
"In that case, please don't watch yourself," I manage, my chest rising and falling quicker.
"Again, I only trust Wulf with you in bed for the time being," the ghost in my armor grumbles. "What if this man is dangerous to you? Just feed on him and be done with it."
Who is this Wulf fellow he keeps mentioning?
My cock is throbbing with excitement in my trousers, but it damn near erupts when I feel her tongue on the side of my neck, before her teeth skim it briefly.
Holy goddess above, what is this woman doing to me? Is this witchcraft?
If so, I like it.
I want her to bite me.
But just as I think she will, my ruby-haired beauty abruptly pulls away from me. She gets quickly to her feet despite my protest and pinches her own arm quite hard.
"Ouch. No. Absolutely not. What the fuck is wrong with you?" she chastises herself, covering her face and exhaling harshly. "You are not biting this guy."
"Such pesky morals," the ghost in my armor sighs.
If this woman has morals and she's resisting a more-than-willing lay, I don't see how this can possibly be the same woman I've secretly corresponded with for months under the guise of being a nobleman.
I was trying to organize a way to meet so I could slit Queen Reinhilde's throat on behalf of my friend—an Aurefeldan nobleman's son she once poached for her Favored before he mysteriously went missing.
But this woman?
Not only does she have no idea who I am, but I can't imagine her being a part of the endless horror stories one hears about Isenmere's queen. I'm certain that she can't truly be that Reinhilde.
Verena it is, then.
"Finally, they've stopped mashing their faces together," a nearby horse brays, flicking his tail.
The mare huffs at him, tossing her mane. "You're such a prude."
"Hardly! I just want these humans to trot off so I can get some shuteye after that grueling trip. That bandit attack scared me half to death."
The Isenmerian horses don't seem to realize yet that I can understand them perfectly, but they'll catch wind soon. Every horse stabled near Aurefeld Castle warns visitors to watch what they say around me.
I tune out the equines and also get to my feet. Ignoring the insistent tent in my breeches, I gently take her hands in mine, pulling them away from her beautiful face so it's not hidden from me.
"Why not?" I ask Verena.
"What?"
"Why not bite me? If you enjoy it, I might, too. I'm sure I'd enjoy anything you do to me, so let's give it a try."
Her dark blue stare holds me hostage for a moment. "Oh, my god. You're serious."
"Not often, but I am right now."
She shakes her head, baffled as she removes her hands from mine. "Do you always let random women bite you after a little romp in the hay, Sir Kinks-A-Lot?"
"I'm not in the habit of romping in the hay with anyone," I snort. Unable to resist, I reach out to twist a strand of her garnet-colored hair between my fingers, smiling at her. "And I'm only offering for you to bite me because you look like you just walked out of my filthiest dreams."
The corners of her mouth twitch. "Does that pickup line usually work on the ladies for you?"
"As I told you, I'm serious right now."
Is now the right time to tell her how literally I meant that? I've dreamed of this face before—this blue gaze, this ruby hair, the little spot above her lips that are still swollen from my attentions.
I could hardly believe my eyes when I spotted her through my helmet, after I burst into this stable earlier.
A sudden thought crosses my mind—a rumor drifting around Aurefeld that Isenmere's queen would bring the Isenmerian princess to the festival. That girl she was defending earlier matched the descriptions I've heard of Princess Snow White.
And since the ghost did say this confusing woman is Reinhilde…
"That girl, was she your…daughter?" I ask cautiously, since this woman seems only a few years older than me, but Snow White looked to be on the brink of womanhood.
She waves off the question. "She's more like my Padawan."
"Padawan?" I repeat the strange word at the same time as the ghost, who seems just as perplexed.
"Apprentice," Verena clarifies. Then she makes a face. "But also kind of my daughter by marriage, I guess. It's complicated."
Marriage.
That word chases all logical thoughts from my brain. I'm no longer wondering whether she's Verena or Reinhilde—I'm just gritting my teeth at the thought of this woman trapped in the kinds of marriages I've seen in this scandal-filled kingdom.
"Your husband is infuriatingly lucky," I mutter, my attention dropping again to the small wound on her bottom lip.
It looks like a bite mark.
Did her husband do that to her? Is that why she didn't answer me earlier?
Whoever she really is, I'm about to make her a widow.
"Oh. No, I'm not married. Anymore," she tacks on, like an afterthought. "He died."
Right. I remember now that I heard about the king of Isenmere passing. I was fourteen at the time and paid it little attention.
Yet now I examine the woman before me, trying to picture her cloaked in a veil for the rest of her life, as is their kingdom's tradition for widowed queens. It seems fucking unfair to rob the world of a face like hers.
"Thanks," Verena blurts. "For defending my friends, I mean."
"You already thanked me with a kiss. But I'll gladly accept another," I add with a smile.
I tap my lips as if I'm teasing, but I'm genuinely dying to feel her all over me once more.
"Well, aren't you greedier than Glinda?" she grins.
The armor ghost fights a laugh. "The Faerie of Greed is Gilda—but I admit, it's adorable that you're trying to use references from this world now."
As with every other time he speaks, I pretend I neither hear nor see him. I've had years of practice pretending not to hear things that don't speak to most people.
"Gilda," Verena amends.
Then she turns away from me, kicking straw aside and frowning at the stable floor. I spot what she must be looking for and retrieve it quickly, holding up the slipper.
"Yours?"
She yawns and nods, holding out her hand for it.
But she's right that I apparently am greedier than Gilda when it comes to her. I hold it higher.
"What will I get as thanks for returning it?"
"I see how it is. Two can play at that game, Lancelot."
I don't know what she just called me, but I enjoy eyeing her backside through that skirt as she turns around, bending to pick up my helmet near her feet. She holds it up triumphantly as she faces me again, a smirk on those kissable lips.
I hum. "A shoe doesn't seem like an equal trade for a helmet. Maybe I should offer something more valuable, to make it even."
She yawns again, and I abruptly realize she must be exhausted after such a long journey. But she still plays along, smiling at me.
"Oh, yeah? What do you have that I could possibly want?"
Since I only know of one thing she might want from me, and since I am determined to better understand this fascinating woman, I decide to be blunt.
"My blood."
All humor disappears from her face. She's abruptly guarded, her gaze flicking down to the small cut above my lip.
"You're right to be wary, but if he's a danger to your secret, Wulf can deal with him. Take the offer and drink from him, Fairest," the ghost urges quietly. "At the very least, it may take the edge off your torture."
Torture?
I want to ask what he means—but out of habit, I keep my cards close to my chest. Neither of them needs to know I can see her ghost friend, so I keep my gaze on her.
But while Verena lapped at my blood so eagerly during our kiss, she suddenly looks almost sickened.
Looking away, she sets my helmet down on the ground, clearing her throat uncomfortably.
"Keep the fucking shoe. I don't want your blood."
My heart stumbles as I realize I've made a misstep with her, somehow. "But earlier, you—"
"Could you do me a big favor and just forget about earlier?" she cuts in, rubbing her throat as if it's causing her pain. "We don't even know each other's names, so that should be easy, right?"
"I'd rather not," I murmur, moving closer to offer her the shoe.
Verena accepts it, slipping it on at once. Her guard is still up.
"Fine, then could you please not tell anyone about the whole me-nearly-biting-you thing?"
I lean down, trying to catch her eye to put her at ease again. "I wasn't going to tell anyone, anyway, Ruby. I swear that whatever your secret is, you're safe with me."
"Who said I have a secret?" she grumbles, already backing out of the stable. "Okay, well—thanks again, Mr. Knight. Sorry I got a little carried away, but I should really go rest up for the masquerade before I run out of self-control. Bye."
It's difficult, but I force myself to stay put as Verena hurries out of the stable, taking my heart with her.
I don't know why my offer to give her blood rubbed her the wrong way after we hit it off, but chasing her now would only make her more wary of me.
The ghost haunting my armor vanishes the moment she leaves. I exhale a frustrated breath as I look down at my discarded helmet.
I'll need a better way to approach Verena tomorrow night, during the masquerade. Some way to ensure she'll at least talk to me—especially because she'll realize I lied to her by omission.
But first, I need to ensure I can have any time to speak with her at all.
With a sigh, I pick up pieces of my armor, donning it once more with determination.
It's time for me to pay a visit to the queen.