Chapter 19
Nineteen
A siren-halfling covered in cerulean scales under her scandalously styled dress sits in Lir’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. With ruby lips and a set of gills under her flowing cobalt hair, she’s one of the most beautiful creatures I’ve ever seen.
Unable to tear my eyes away, I watch her playfully poke at the freckles across his nose before she points them out on his ears. Lir’s face turns toward me, and I freeze, terrified, before I remember his blindness. But that doesn’t stop my heart from beating out of my chest.
Rett smiles, unaware of my shift in mood. “It’s an old tavern song that the romantics love. I’ve heard it in just about every kingdom I’ve been to.” He looks at my empty tumbler and asks, “Do you want more?”
My head buzzes. “I want to get some air.” Hoping he takes the hint, I squeeze his hand encouragingly. I refuse to watch Lir for another moment.
It hurts for reasons I can’t explain.
The barmaid works her way past us, but not before Rett puts a sizeable golden coin in her apron pocket. He turns with a grin and says, “You ready? Let’s go.”
As we leave, it’s so crowded that we must wait for a large group to file out before we can move. Perhaps it’s the stress of being in the same room, but while we are waiting, I’m unable to block out Lir’s conversation with the female in his lap over the crowd’s noise.
His voice is raspy as he informs her, “I was supposed to sail out to meet with my cunt of a brother, but he’s altered his plans yet again.” He laughs and pulls her closer. I dig my fingernails into my palms, unable to tear my gaze away—
The room sways as the halfling on his lap asks, “You talk of family that way?”
“You don’t?” he retorts.
She giggles and nibbles his ear.
My own ears flame in response.
A small voice of doubt wonders if I’m overreacting. Lir and I promised each other nothing. It was I who ran from his cottage after he offered me a different type of life. I clench my hands until it hurts.
Rett yanks my arm and pulls me through the crowd, out the doors, and onto the street.
Outside, the din of the tavern is muted as if a floodgate has closed.
And despite fiddlers filling street corners with music and revelers, there is a calm compared to the tavern’s riotous clamor.
The night air is lovely, and on the small of my back, Rett’s hand guides me through the crowds and up the winding hill to the central plaza, where more people dance.
“I’ve already had the pleasure of dancing with you once tonight. Do you think I’ll be lucky enough to get a second?” he asks, flashing his white teeth in what appears to be a genuine smile.
I hike up my ill-fitting pants that have been slipping down. “I’m not dressed for it. These trousers are a death trap, and my cap fell off in the tavern somewhere. I’m lucky my hair is wrapped around my circlet.”
“If it bothers you, we can find something more suitable,” he says, gesturing to the vendors lining the streets. An older, scrunched-up woman sits among billowing skirts for sale, the beautiful fabrics blowing like banners in the breeze.
Rett purchases a flowing patchwork skirt made of squares in many different colors and offers it to me.
Charmed by his thoughtfulness, I smile and duck into a nearby changing wagon.
A small, furry creature with big emerald eyes watches curiously from a shadowy corner as I shed the trousers and tuck my white shirt into the newly purchased skirt.
It swishes pleasingly to the middle of my calves.
I can’t do anything about the clunky boots I wear, and I oddly miss the support of my stays, but at least this is an improvement.
As I exit, I sniff the dried sage-green flowers hanging upside down and wrinkle my nose.
I emerge to find Rett still waiting, his eyes brightening as he takes in my new outfit. “Ah, sure you don’t want to put the pants back on?”
I playfully swat at him before tying a floral scarf around my hair.
“Now that you’re properly dressed,” he remarks, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
I take it, my pulse quickening.
As we join the dancers twirling under the soft beams of lantern light, he wraps me in his arms, and I can’t stop my stomach from fluttering wildly. We don’t know the steps to the commonfolk’s dance, but we laugh under our breath as we figure them out together.
When the fiddle stops, we tease each other about our mistakes. We are having such a good time that I almost forget about Lir.
“Refresh yourselves,” calls the voice of the buxom woman behind a barrel, holding out a tin cup full of sage-green liquid to me. “You did fabulously, darling.”
I lift my eyebrows at Rett, unsure.
He shrugs. “If you would like. It’s your night to celebrate.” I realize another drink is exactly what I need after seeing Lir.
Besides, I’ve never had rum before.
With a nod, I take the cup and swallow it in one gulp. It burns as it goes down, and I immediately cough, some of it coming through my nose and stinging the insides of my nostrils.
“Easy!” Rett pats my back with a firm but gentle whack. “That’s potent stuff.”
The woman attempts to hand Rett a drink. He shakes his head apologetically, declining her offer.
The night takes on a blurry dreamscape; the lantern lights smear hazily with black shadows curling around them.
I clutch Rett’s arm as he guides me away, but not before he slips a golden coin into the jar on top of the barrel.
We walk down the winding hill toward the tavern again.
Fewer people are out now, but the streets aren’t empty yet.
“They’re going to banish me for being a bad influence if they ever find out about tonight,” he warns.
“They already—hiccup—think I’m bad because I’m a courtesan—I mean—used to be.” I gasp for air between hiccups.
“Don’t you think it’s strange that your kingdom puts women in positions they can’t abandon and then judges them harshly for it?”
“Tell me—hiccup—about it.” I stop in the middle of the cobblestone road.
“All right, someone has had too much fun,” Rett says, eyebrow cocking.
My tongue feels thick when I try to form words.
“That drink was… different,” I slur, patting his chest reassuringly, although I have no idea what I’m assuring him of, “from anything I’ve ever had, and I’ve been to a lot of parties…
” My hand lingers as I enjoy the feeling of his muscles under my fingertips.
“I would say not. That’s Beast Tonic.”
“What?” My face tingles. “That wasn’t rum?”
He shakes his head. “It’s a health aid for monsters and halflings, but when humans consume it, the intoxication is on a whole other level.”
“Why didn’t you warn me?” All of a sudden, I’m aware that the roads and buildings don’t align correctly. I sway for a second before releasing one more whole-body hiccup—the tonic coursing through my veins, heightening everything: sound, taste, color.
Touch.
“I thought you knew what it was! The commonfolk have been importing it for years,” Rett counters, his eyes widening to an alarming degree as he wraps a supportive arm around my waist. “We better get you some water before I return you to the castle.”
He helps me stumble up the stairs on the backside of the tavern and into his small room once more. I can still hear the raucous noise below the floorboards, though the room now spins. Cautiously, he pours from a cracked pitcher into a wooden cup on the table.
My body tingles as I watch the muscles move in his arm during such a simple task. He’s genuinely striking.
Not only that, but intelligent.
Kind.
Thoughtful.
Everything Balor isn’t. In fact, there’s no reason why I couldn’t desire Rett. He hands me the cup with a steady hand.
“I had a great time tonight.” Feeling the cool water go down my throat, I don’t take my eyes off him.
He locks eyes with me, and his expression turns into smoldering heat. Walking around the table, he presses his mouth to mine without hesitation. Our lips part to taste and to know each other, and those tusks I suspected under his bottom lip graze me with an aching pleasure.
The drink isn’t what I need to feel better after seeing Lir—it’s this.
My heart picks up its pace as his hands find the nape of my neck. He caresses my hair before wrapping his fingers around my face and bringing me closer.
My body trembles.
I want more.
A queen can have more, can’t she?
We stumble back until we hit the wall. The picture frame of an ugly cross-stitch pattern falls and shatters at our feet.
His torso melds into mine. Emptying my head of all thoughts feels so good. The exceptionally hard length of him presses into my stomach, reaching, pleading for me to take it in hand. I graze the front of his trousers, still confining him, and he growls.
He steps back. “Marry me, Tabitha.”
Everything comes to a screeching halt.
“Can’t we just enjoy each other?” I fumble for the buttons to free his hardness, but his hand stops me.
I turn away, humiliation burning through to my very bones.
His eyes scorch. “You’ve had too much to drink,” he pants. “I won’t take you here—not like this.”
“I’m fine—hiccup—I want this. I want you.” My hiccups are back with a vengeance.
“Then marry me.”
It’s my turn to pull out from under his arms and flee his embrace.
I am so, so, so stupid for encouraging him.
Hadn’t Klara said he would seek marriage?
“Let’s join forces. We don’t have to pretend to be in love—that will come later. We have the passion. We have the goodwill.”
Frantic whispers fill my ears.
I shush Rett, but he doesn’t stop. “Together, we can rewrite history. We can eliminate men like Metalla. We can find out what is happening to the womenfolk across our realms. Think about it.”
Footsteps thunder up the wooden staircase outside the apartment, rattling the walls on their ascent.
BAM.
The door flies open, and the Queensguard infiltrates the room.
I try to answer, but the loud clanking armor of twenty swordsmen drowns out my words.
Spinning around, I watch as Rett vanishes into wisps of nothing.