16. Chapter Sixteen
Three days have passed, and I’m still no closer to making it behind the red door.
The door is very locked, and there seems no alternate way in.
The ancient map is no help, and if Lazzus and I were on speaking terms, I’d ask him for help.
Not that he would tell me the truth. It’s difficult for me to accept he can slaughter five wolves but not unlock a door like he claims. I’m so frustrated over my failures that I take a break.
As soon as breakfast ends for the morning, I head outside and set to work building a snow fort and dozens of snowballs.
I’ve learned that Zyon always takes an afternoon walk, so I wait behind my constructed white wall, watching for him to emerge from the castle.
The damp frost nips through the buttoned slit of my coat as I wait much too long for him.
Finally, a servant holds the door open for the lazy Royal Highness, and I launch my attack as soon as he steps within range.
Five snowballs bombard him, and guards rush over.
He holds up his hand to halt them and dashes behind a stone pillar under the blue canopy that stops at the base of the castle.
He doesn’t step out for several minutes, and I tuck ten snowballs into the front pocket of the apron I stole from the kitchen.
I slide along the wall to stay covered but figure out if he’s disappeared.
He leaps out from behind the pillar and rolls over the top of my fort, all while shoving snow at me.
I spin around, but it’s too late. He’s already made it to his feet and shoves a bunch of the icy fluff in my face.
I burst out of the pile he’s buried me in, and I launch all the projectiles from my apron at him.
Instead of dodging each blow, he walks into them, continuing to charge toward me.
I scream as he gets too close and take off running, but my constructed wall locks me in with only fancy bushes on my other side.
Each time I glance back, he’s still chasing me.
Biting ice blasts my neck, and I’m knocked down face first. I slam hard on the ground and wheeze as I recover from having the wind knocked out of me and trying not to laugh at Zyon’s frantic pleas.
“Neera! Neera!” He almost sounds like he cares that he toppled me with his blizzard magic.
He drops next to me, and I roll over, shoving more snow in his face.
He grabs my wrists and pins them above my head. “Surrender.”
I knee him right in the stomach and wiggle free. “Never!”
“Cheater!” He barely misses my ankle as I take off running again.
“You used magic, so who are you to talk?”
“You didn’t lay out any rules for your surprise attack.”
“Exactly, so how could I cheat!” I hide behind a tree and pop out only to launch another snowball at him.
He dodges. “Physical violence seems like cheating.”
“Did I wound the poor king?” I send another, and it hits the target of his too perfect nose. “Perhaps only his pride?” I stick out my lower lip to emphasize my mockery.
“Yet you were the one face first on the ground.”
“And I still won.”
“Did not!” He charges me.
I squeal and squeeze through a row of bushes but stop when I spot what must be dozens of ice sculptures. Bears, dogs, horses, and even a massive dragon shimmer in the small bit of sunlight that peeks out from the grey clouds.
The distraction diverts my attention, so that I miss Zyon shooting through the bushes.
He grabs my waist, and we tumble to the ground while he maneuvers so he takes the brunt of the fall.
I’m on top of him, staring at his grey eyes that call to me, like he’s enchanted them with magic more powerful than the black rose holds.
He brushes back a strand of my red hair, tucking it behind my ear. His hand lingers on my cheek. “Hmmm…” He licks his lips as his gaze drops to mine.
I’m caught in his irises for the few heartbeats it takes me to realize how stupid this is. “This doesn’t mean you win.”
“The way you are looking at me says it does.” He moves his lips closer, and his breath is warm and smells like mint leaves.
My lips tingle, and that feeling moves lower. This is much too tempting with the wicked king, so I elbow him in the gut as I try to get out of his hold. He grunts but helps me off, probably to spare his stomach from my clumsy escape.
I brush off my coat and dress before rushing through the sculptures. “I will see you later.”
“That’s it, then? You attack and run?”
“Yes, always!” I run faster before the charm in his voice pulls me back.
So far, all I’ve managed to do is make my situation worse.
I’m no closer to finding any of the objects, and the king no longer stares at me with loathing or disinterest. His eyes turn nearly emerald when he watches me over breakfast, and the expression that accompanies it runs over my body like a predator who wants to play.
My father always told me, men are hungry for three things, wealth, power, and sex.
He has the first two, and I do not intend to give him the last. Especially since he still seems fine with me dying on the mountain for the sake of his dull life.
He finally takes his eyes off me after he stares much too long, probably enjoying the way it makes me squirm with unease. “What are your plans for today?”
“To spend it anywhere but with you.”
“That was my agenda as well. Is the new room still satisfactory?”
I push my strawberries around with my fork. “It’s lovelier than anywhere I’ve ever stayed. Thank you for moving me.”
He shrugs and returns to his favorite activity of watching the snow. “My servants complained too much of the cold when tending to you.”
“I see. Who made the ice sculptures?”
“I did. It’s something easy to practice my necromancy on," he says.
"I didn't realize ice was alive to become dead."
"Everything around us lives and dies."
“Are you not already immensely skilled to have an entire court created from living bones? Why do you need practice?” I close my eyes as I indulge in the strawberry. I hope the seeds will give me fruit for my garden. Otherwise, I will miss them greatly when everything ends.
“That is the issue. They are not the people they once were. I’ve been told my line has always been extremely skilled in the ability, but I seem to fall short.”
“Something you are not arrogant about?”
“Bringing the dead back in any capacity makes me superior to everyone in my lands, but I wish to be more powerful.”
I lean back in my seat and snicker. “You’re ridiculous. Do you ever bring that dragon to life?”
“That was your favorite?”
“Yes, I thought he was magnificently done. How you could carve him so large is a mystery. Where are there even blocks of ice that big?”
“Everything is winter that makes ice easy to find. Especially when I have sages who specialize in water.”
“Can I watch you bring him to life sometime?”
He sips his tea for a moment. “No.”
“You ruin all fun.”
“Good.”
My nose twitches, and I throw a biscuit at him.
His jaw drops, and he rubs his forehead. “You might as well have thrown a rock.”
“Are you insulting your kitchen staff who work so hard to provide a wasteful feast for you?”
“Yes.” He scoops up purple pudding with his spoon and flings it into my eyes.
I wipe my face with my napkin. “You idiot! The biscuit wasn’t messy.
” I jump up and pour the entire bowl of peach jam over his head, then take off running when he picks up the stack of syrup covered pancakes.
I grab chopped yellow fruit on my way for weaponry and slide under the table.
He should have learned from my snowball aim and is rightfully pelted six times.
I crawl quickly and attempt to go around the table leg, but he flings me onto my back and smooshes banana into my hair.
The pressure of him on top of me is more noticeable than the mush caking my forehead.
It’s firm, but not too much. It’s just enough for me to want to stay longer than I should.
What a stupid idea to find any attraction to our wicked king.
I remind myself that attraction can’t be helped, and his perfectly formed face and body are the fault of the gods, not me.
“I should take you to my shower and fuck you, so we can both move on from whatever this insane tension is between us.”
I squeeze my thighs together to stop the unwanted throbbing between my legs. “That is only a one-sided thing.”
“Sure. That’s why your pupils are so dilated all I can see are small bits of green.”
“It’s dark under here.”
“The chandeliers spread light under here just fine.” He lowers his lips, and I do nothing.
My lips are pleading for the pressure he’s promising. They want to be bruised and sated.
His hand slips between my legs, pushing my dress up and running over my bare thigh. “Tell me to stop.”
“I don’t do what you tell me.”
“That’s for damn sure.” He slips his hand into my panties and circles my clit, varying his speed until I’m on the floor boneless.
I scream as the tension in my body builds so close to the edge. I’m burning with the need to fall, but he abruptly lets go and climbs out from under the table. It’s so jarring I blink at the emptiness above me for several seconds before rage takes over, and I follow him out.
He’s smirking, probably because he can see the deep need rising in me. “Maybe if you’re a good girl, I’ll finish that soon.”
"You must not have learned anything about me if you think I will behave for anything you want, you patronizing asshole!" I pick up the applesauce and dump all of it on him before charging out of the room.
He yells several things my burning ears refuse to hear as I rush to my bath.
He's left me so frustrated and wanting that I have to help myself survive it. The washroom in the new room has a lock, but I slide a chair under the door as a second measure of keeping him out. I turn the water up and pour the soap in until frothy purple covers the surface. I strip down with hurried movements, slip under the water, and use my fingers to finish the job he couldn’t.