Chapter Seven
Cian
“WHERE’S THE DOE?” HUNTER asks as I stride into the library.
The prior king, Charlin, held no appreciation for books.
He was brute force and tyranny. I’ve changed some things.
The shelves are filled with as many books as I can acquire, from all twelve Wylding kingdoms. The farthest wall is full of the legends, lore, religious, cultural, and societal structures of the other earth-magick shifters that surround Cerf-Biche: the Tauro and Ma-Lyon.
Once I figure out who tried to kill me, I really need to more seriously entertain a politically advantageous mating with one of them. Maybe the Tauro. The Ma-Lyons have been known to hunt off weaker members of the Cerf-Biche, though they deny it.
I rub my chest. There’s an odd twisting feeling there at the thought of taking a mate. Shaking my head, I search for the book I’ve come to find. “Anything back from the herbalist yet?”
Blue cover, maybe. Written by the Cerfwynn priestess Glenonda, if I’m remembering correctly.
“Not yet, no. About the doe?”
“She’s where I left her. In my bed.”
Hunter surges to his feet. “You left her alone in your rooms? Are you mad?”
Ah. Purple cover. Close enough. “Maybe.”
He strides over to me, plucking the book from my fingers. “What are you looking for?”
I grab it back and begin flipping through the pages.
Wines. Aperitifs. Ah—hard liquors. “Gin recipes. The doe was correct. Juniper berries.” I point as he reads over my shoulder, then snap the book closed before returning it to the shelf.
Turning around, I rest my ass on the lip of the furniture. “Know anyone who drinks gin?”
“Everyone.” My best friend looks as grim as I feel.
“Which means traitors, here and in Mayhaven, though I can’t quite believe it.
There must be another explanation we’re not seeing.
” He holds out a box of spice no bigger than my palm.
“This is what remains of the spices the doe used in the daisy cakes. If you hadn’t killed the baker so precipitously, we might have questioned him. Or fed this to him.”
“He was about to rape my plaissance. Obviously, I couldn’t allow that.”
I only have to wait a few seconds before he explodes.
“Your what? Tell me you haven’t done anything so stupid, Cian.”
“I’d be lying.”
He grabs at his hair and pulls. “I don’t believe this. Not even you can make your poisoner your plaissance and expect the kingdom to go along with it.”
I drop my voice to its softest level. I don’t want to argue with him, but there are lines, and he’s about to cross them. “It’s the safest place for her. And I want her.” So much, I’m wondering what I’m doing discussing poisons and kingdoms when I could be fucking her right now.
“You want the weakest doe in the kingdom? For what? Is this some sort of kink?”
“That’s pretty much what she asked. I thought if anyone would understand, it would be you.”
“No. Come on, man. It’s like... like...” But he shakes his head.
I know what nasty thing he’s thinking. I’d think it myself if I didn’t feel so very differently about this particular doe. I felt her watching me the night of the daisy cakes. I felt her move inside me.
“She’s not a child, nor witless, nor in need of a caregiver. She’s just weak, which shouldn’t be a crime.”
“Not a crime. Just disgusting.”
There’s that prejudice she was talking about earlier. I never saw it so clearly before she spoke of it. “The weak are my people, too.”
“But not to fuck.” He throws up his hands. “Every single person in this kingdom is going to think like me. You know that.”
“So?”
He lowers his voice. “They’re going to kill her, Cian.”
“Which is why she’s now my plaissance.”
But he shakes his head. “You can’t protect her. Maybe they won’t get to her today, but they will tomorrow or the next day. And they’ll look down on you for choosing her.”
He’s not wrong. I just don’t care. Maybe I’m just being obstinate, but there’s something about her.
I shrug. “She’s funny, outspoken, kind, and most definitely an adult. Plus, mentally, she’s sharp. Strong.”
With a growl of displeasure, he stalks across the room to the door, but only leans his forehead against it. “At least take Fawn Freeborn if you’re looking for a boring fuck. She’s got the lineage and power.”
“Fawn’s angling to become my mate, not my plaissance.”
He rotates his head and offers me a wry smile. “I think she’d adapt her dreams if that’s all you offered.”
Probably. “It’s too late. I’ve already claimed Ayala.”
“You’re really going to go through with it?”
“Record it. Make it official.”
“Fine.”
“And she needs clothing. And supper. She’s all bones.”
But what bones. My hands ache with the need to cup her flesh.
Soon.
“I’ll arrange it.” He turns his head. “Your cock is leading you, Cian. The good news is that once you taste her, you can set her free. I’ll find her a house somewhere far from court life. And then you’ll be able to get on with finding a mate.”
I amble over to the long couches and sink down.
It’s fun discombobulating him, but the knowledge that he isn’t wrong tempers my joy: no one will understand.
In a society that values physical strength—magickal strength—choosing Ayala is wrong.
Such a vast gap in levels between bed partners has never been contemplated.
But I’m the king. If I can’t bridge the divide, then who?
Hunter sinks into a chair adjacent to where I sit and holds out the silver container once more.
“The substance within is supposed to be juniper. It’s not.
The herbalist needs time to run tests, but he could tell me that much with just a glance.
Your new plaissance added it to your cake and poisoned you. Her hand, Cian.”
“But not her will,” I repeat the words—the essential words.
“If she’s worked with juniper as she claims, she should have recognized the difference. I swear, she’s going to stab you in the heart while you sleep, and when she does, I’m going to kill her in the longest, most excruciating manner I can devise.”
“I’m not concerned.”
He grits his teeth. He’s going to get a headache if he’s not careful.
Slowly, I open the container and take a sniff. Bitter. Not at all like the juniper berries we picked earlier. The powder is the right color, though, a sort of dull grayed-violet.
I close the lid and slip the box into the pocket of my robe. “The real question is who slipped the poison into the baker’s closet? Roffey Hornbeam was the head baker. My money’s on the rapist.”
“Again, shouldn’t have killed him.”
“But Murdoch lied. He lied, Hunter.”
“I understand.”
“Which implicates not only him, but perhaps all of Mayhaven.”
“Poisonous plants are grown in the monk’s arboretum,” he allows. “The doe may be in league with the monks... and I can’t believe I just uttered that sentence. Why not accuse Cernunnos himself?” He throws himself back in his chair with a grunt. “Yet, you think her innocent.”
“Of everything except wishing to expand her lot in the kitchens.”
Hunter smacks the table next to him so hard, the shelf across the floor rattles.
“Easy.”
“Easy, when I’m watching you destroy yourself? No. Enough, Cian. Fuck her if you have to. Protect her if you must. But don’t discount her part in this. She tried to kill you. How can you dismiss that fact so easily?”
I lift a brow, trying not to smile. “Lust?”
I watch to see if his head really will explode. It’s a near thing. He points at me. “We’re about to go up against the god’s chosen representatives, you ass. This isn’t the time for games.”
“I earned this throne. I’m the god’s chosen. Besides, I can take on a bunch of monks with one row of antlers covered in moss.”
“Don’t tempt me to make you prove it.” But after taking another deep breath, he calms. “I’ll ready the best dozen warriors to leave for Mayhaven at first light.”
“In shifted form.”
“That’ll mean no weapons. The monastery is spelled against shifting inside, so we’ll have nothing if things go sideways. Not points, not blades.”
“Guess so.”
With a clenched jaw, he stands and bows, the most ironic gesture of respect he’s ever given me. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”
Ooh, he’s pissed. He leaves without looking back.
I make my way back up to my rooms. Those I pass in the hallways wish me well and comment on how healthy I’m looking, how glad they are I’m not dead, etc., but I pay none of them any mind.
None of it matters because there’s a warm, white doe waiting on my bed. I want her more than I’m comfortable admitting, but Hunter’s probably right. I’ll fuck her once, it’ll be boring as dubnos, and I’ll end it.
Though I’ll keep her in my bed until the assassination matter is concluded. It won’t be safe for her to circulate among the nobles and palace staff, never mind the guards who are loyal to a fault, without my overt protection.
I rub my chest again as it pangs. Maybe I should see the monks about possible aftereffects from the poison?
But when I enter my rooms, I’m moved by a feeling and force not my own.
I can’t describe what it is that happens inside me, but when I spot the small form curled up on her side atop the crimson velvet, her hands clasped as if in prayer, her breathing deep and even, all I want to do is take her against me, my arms and legs around her, my body shielding her from all harm.
It’s such an insane need to keep her safe, I don’t quite know what to do with it.
She wasn’t wrong in what she said earlier. The strong take what they will and assume the world is theirs. What must it be like to have no recourse to anything not given? What must it be like not to take what one wants?
As I lie down next to her, my arms under my head instead of around her, I stare at the ceiling so long, I begin to find out.
I don’t like not taking what I want. I don’t like it at all.