Chapter 24 #2
Shifting back in his chair, he propped an elbow on the armrest while steepling a finger along his temple.
“Glad to see you made the wise decision to wear a robe while wandering the castle halls. The night watch will be grateful,” he mused when she paused to study a map on the wall.
But at his words, she twisted to face him, her expression pensive. “Why would the night watch be grateful I wore a robe?”
“Had any of them seen you in the nightclothes I’m sure you’re wearing beneath it, I’d have been compelled to relieve them of their duties.” He paused before adding casually, “And possibly their eyesight.”
“That’s absurd,” she scoffed, shuffling a few steps closer.
“You’ve stabbed me for less, tiny fiend,” he deadpanned. “What brings you down here at this hour? Can’t sleep?”
“I slept a bit,” she replied, now at the side of his desk. She ran her fingers along the smooth surface.
“But?”
“Do you sleep?” she asked instead. “I’ve yet to see it.”
He smiled softly. “Yes, I sleep.”
But he didn’t tell her he only slept when he’d pushed himself to the point of exhaustion. He didn’t tell her he only slept if his power became so depleted, it forced him into a semi-conscious state.
He didn’t tell her that he understood the dangers of dreaming.
She was still exploring his desk, and he wondered if she’d realized she’d rounded the corner as she leaned in to study a glass container, the contents swirling and twisting but never merging into one.
“What are you reading?” he asked after a few minutes of watching her.
She straightened, as if just realizing how odd this entire situation might be. Then she looked down at the book she’d tucked under her arm. Turning to face him, she leaned back against the desk, holding it out to him. “Razik let me borrow it.”
“Did he now?” Cethin asked, taking the book. “And where is your guard who’s not supposed to let you go anywhere alone?”
She shrugged. “He told me once I’m in our rooms for the night, he’s off duty until breakfast unless summoned. I didn’t summon him.”
“Sneaking out then,” he commented, thumbing through the pages.
She tsked. “I’m not a child. I didn’t sneak out anywhere. I’m told this is my home now.”
“It is,” Cethin said flatly, glancing up from the book.
“Then I presume I am free to move about my home without an escort.”
“I was attacked in this castle shortly before the Esbat Festival, Kailia.”
“Where I understand you used my arrow to defend yourself.”
“I did.”
“You’re welcome.”
His brows shot up. “For the arrow? That you’ve been going on about for weeks?”
“For the protection I was providing even before we’d formally met,” she replied, and gods. She said it so simply, he wasn’t sure if she was being a smart ass or simply stating something she thought to be true.
He shook his head, hiding his smile as he returned to the book. It was entirely about Avonleya. The major cities. How territories were divided. Various landmarks. There was history and policy, laws and notable leaders both past and present.
“You’ve been reading this?” he asked.
“Mhmm,” she hummed, toying with a reed pen he’d been using to sign off on some requests from various cities.
“Why?”
She paused mid-twirl of the pen in her fingers. “Why have I been reading about the kingdom I suddenly find myself queen of?”
He nodded, setting the book aside and shifting closer in his chair. She moved back, but with nowhere to go, she ended up perching on the edge of the desk, crossing her ankles, her bare feet now off the floor.
“I suppose because if this is to be my life, I should know the kingdom and people I’m serving,” she answered, leaning back on her hands as she tilted her head, watching him. Resuming this game they’d been playing of observing each other to try to gain the upper hand.
“Can I ask you another question?” he asked, watching the robe slip down one of her shoulders and confirming his suspicion of what kind of nightclothes she was wearing.
“I cannot stop you,” she replied. “Doesn’t mean I’ll answer it.”
Fair enough.
Dragging his gaze from that thin strap at her shoulder back to her bright eyes, he asked, “Why don’t you like to be touched?”
She clearly hadn’t expected the question to be that.
Not with the way her eyes went wide, swirling a little faster.
Not with the way her lips pursed and she swallowed thickly.
Not with the way her other hand drifted to her thigh, where he was certain a dagger was hidden beneath the robe.
Not as a full-body shiver shuddered through her form like even the mere thought of being touched was too much.
When she didn’t answer, he settled back in his chair, putting a little more space between them. Her shoulders relaxed some, inching down from her ears.
At least until he said, “If it wasn’t clear when I made you my wife, I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. I’ll figure you out with or without your help.”
Because this was what he did. He dug deep and pushed limits, picking at details and unraveling threads.
He was willing to do uncomfortable things to get what he wanted, and he’d drag others right along with him if required.
Of course, he preferred to keep his sins hidden in the shadows, but that meant pulling others into the dark with him sometimes.
He’d done it for his kingdom to give them the lives and freedoms they deserve—was still willing to make the sacrifices for them—and this was no different. She was no different.
Her features hardened at his words, and she pushed off her hands, leaning forward. Unfortunately for him, that made the other side of her robe slip down her shoulder, the garment now caught in the bend of her elbows, and it left a whole lot of cleavage on display.
“I truly didn’t think you cared about the touching, seeing as you don’t even sleep in the same bed,” she said sharply.
He propped his head on a fist. “You are upset I’m not sharing your bed?”
“That is not what I said.”
“That’s what it sounded like to me.”
“Then your education was lacking if that’s what you think those words strung together indicated.”
He smirked. “I assure you my academics were rigorous, but my studies also included learning to read people and all the things they weren’t saying.”
Her features scrunched up in a way that told him she thought that was the most inane thing she’d ever heard. “That’s not a thing.”
“It absolutely is, tiny fiend,” he replied.
“Is that so?” she demanded.
“It is.”
“I would just say what I’m thinking.”
“I want to believe that, but…”
She sat up straighter, the move pushing out her chest, and fuck him, because that nightdress was cut far too low and the sheerness left little to the imagination.
Contrary to her belief, he hadn’t picked out her wardrobe.
He’d simply put in an order for all the clothing a queen would require, and whoever had been given the task had included these items that tortured him daily.
“But what?” Kailia asked, and Cethin wasn’t sure if she was offended or if it was a genuine question.
“But I believe that watching from the smoke and ashes may have affected your own education in that area,” he answered. “You can read people, sure, but you find it difficult to interact with them or use that knowledge to your advantage.”
She blinked at him, her features turning a faint shade of red that wasn’t from embarrassment. That was anger.
“You know nothing of my past, husband.”
“I’m aware, wife. That was why I asked a question. I assume your past has everything to do with why you fear touch.”
“I don’t fear touch,” she retorted. “I just don’t like it.”
“Then you’ve never been touched properly,” he replied, the words simple in the same way she often spoke. As if it were merely a fact.
Her eyes narrowed. “And I suppose you are the one who could change all that? You are the one who could touch me properly?”
He said nothing, remaining motionless in the same way she often did. Watching and waiting.
“Tell me, king, what is the proper way to touch someone? To get what you want with soft touches? To maintain control with punishing ones? To manipulate with caresses? To claim ownership with ones that leave bruises behind? If that is the case, I’ve been touched properly so many times, they linger like phantoms. Living and breathing, with memories of their own.
I do not need more,” she finished, her small frame heaving slightly with emotion he only saw from her when she was lost to her panic.
Long, silent moments passed. Him watching her.
Her perched on the desk, once more emotionless as she regained her composure.
He gave her that time. They were in no hurry.
He needed the respite to get his own emotions under control because his power was straining and writhing beneath his skin.
He’d assumed she’d experienced something traumatic.
No one was that averse to touch who hadn’t, but to hear it said aloud made him want to let that power loose. Let the death in his veins feast.
Finally, each word tight and controlled, he said, “None of those are the proper way to touch someone, Kailia. I’d love to meet the people who taught you they were.”
“Too bad you’re locked behind your Wards,” she sneered.
“For now,” he agreed.
“What does that mean?”
“Another conversation for another time. Back to you not liking touch—”
“There’s nothing more to say.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied. “There is absolutely a proper way to touch someone. Soft touches to give you what you want. Caresses to bring pleasure. Possessive ones that don’t leave bruises but security, knowing you are cared for.”
“And to maintain control?” she countered, lifting her chin.
“If I wanted control, I’d take it, and I wouldn’t need to touch you,” he replied. “Touch can be all those things you’ve experienced, but touch can also be safety and pleasure and desire.”
“And I suppose you want to show me that?” she asked, eyeing him with derision.
“I wouldn’t say no,” he said with a mocking smirk.
“I’m sure not,” she scoffed, leaning back on her hands once more. “Looks like you’ll have to bestow security, pleasure, and desire another way, husband.”
His brow arched at that. “Is that so?”
She paused, a glimpse of hesitation sparking. A curiosity he was more than willing to assuage after this heavy conversation.
“I could, you know,” he replied, sitting straighter in his desk chair, hands resting loosely on the armrests where she could see them. Where they’d stay. He didn’t miss her eyes darting warily to them.
“I’d tell you to untie the sash at your waist. Tell you to pull up that godsdamn nightdress that taunts me every fucking night, spread your legs wide, and show me the cunt you won’t let me touch,” he continued conversationally.
“That…is crass,” she said, the words a little breathy.
“Yes, but because I am well educated in reading the words people won’t say, I noticed how your nostrils flared and how your pupils dilated.
I noticed the slight bob of your throat and how you leaned imperceptibly closer.
” He paused, pointedly dropping his gaze before bringing it back to hers.
“I noticed you uncrossed your ankles, your legs opening the barest amount. That would be the desire part because while crass, it also made you want.”
Her jaw clenched. “Even if that were true, how does that offer security or pleasure?”
“I’m not done,” he said, keeping his hands in place as he leaned towards her. “The security part comes when I tell you I’ll let you return to our rooms alone tonight.”
“How is that security?” she asked in confusion.
“So that when you’re lying in that bed you wish I’d share with you—”
“I never said that,” she interjected.
“When you’re in that bed,” he continued, “you’ll have security in the knowledge I won’t interrupt you when you eventually give in and drag your own fingers between your breasts, across your stomach, and down lower.”
“That’s my own touch bringing me pleasure, not you,” she retorted.
“But you’ll be thinking of me,” he countered.
“You’ll be wondering if I’m right. Wondering what it would feel like to have my fingers inside you rather than your own.
” He stood then, shoving his hands into his pockets as he leaned in close, his next words fanning across her lips.
“And those thoughts are what will push you over the edge of pleasure, wife.”
Picking up the book, he handed it back to her before he left her still perched on his desk. He had to because he was seconds away from throwing caution to the wind and taking a chance on touching her. Of showing her what touch could do. What it should do.
But doing so would ruin all the progress he’d made, and tonight was a big step forward. Her composure had slipped, and she’d revealed another part of herself. Another puzzle piece clicking into place.
So he made his way down to the castle catacombs where his preferred workspace was.
Because it was either that or go back on his word and see if she really was finding her own pleasure.
Or he could go somewhere to find his own release, but as tempting as that was, he’d been doing enough of that on his own lately.
More sins in the shadows would have to suffice for now.