The Heir: A Snow White Retelling (The Twisted Kingdoms Book 3)

by Frost Kay

  “You know what is mine is yours,” he said softly and held out a bit of cheese.

  Tempest took it from his fingers, ignoring the tingle of awareness that lit up her body when their fingers touched. “That’s awfully generous coming from the Jester. You better be careful with your words or some woman will steal the Dark Court from your own hands.” She popped the cheese into her mouth.

  “You don’t have to steal it. I’ll give you it,” he said gravely, his expression completely serious.

  She choked and swallowed hastily. What was she supposed to say to that?

  “And there’s the issue of what your people think…”

  Pyre tore a chunk of bread off and held it out, his expression one of bland interest. “And what exactly do they think?”

  “Oh, come on. Like you don’t know.” She took another bite and almost sat on the bed but decided better of it before closing the trunk and perching on the lid. “They know I was betrothed to the king, and now I’m staying in your quarters.”

  “As is my sister,” he replied.

  “I am not your sister.”

  His gaze pierced her. “You are not,” he whispered softly. Pyre held out an apple slice, and she jerked back. He glanced at his offering and growled. Quickly, he gathered up the apples and tossed them into the stove. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

  Tempest waved him away. “Not your fault.” She took another bite of her bread.

  “Are you worried that the others think you’re warming my bed?”

  “Yes.”

  He set his meat down and studied the bedspread. “And that bothers you?”

  She gaped at him. “Yes!”

  “Because of who I am?”

  “No!” she exclaimed and then lowered her voice. “It has nothing to do with you. For months I’ve let Destin dictate everything I’ve done. He encouraged me to use my feminine wiles to get my way. I look like a whore.”

  “Don’t ever refer to yourself like that again.”

  “I look like one. You and I both know it,” she replied stubbornly. “Which is ironic since I’ve never even been with a man.”

  Pyre froze. “Excuse me?”

  She colored. “I never trusted anyone enough. Despite my somewhat hedonistic upbringing, my uncles raised me to uphold certain guidelines and morals. One of them was not to sleep with anyone I wasn’t bound to. I know many don’t adhere by that standard, but it protected me from being used by careless men, from disease, and children before I was ready.”

  “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

  “Of course, I needed to.” Temp laughed sarcastically. “Even you didn’t imagine I was untouched. What do you think your people see when they look at me?”

  “You know what I see?” he asked, ignoring her question completely.

  “What?”

  “Someone worth a kingdom. Someone worth protecting.”

  Her treacherous heart fluttered at his pretty words. “I don’t need protecting.”

  His ears twitched, before he rounded the foot of the bed and sat on the opposite corner of the trunk. He dusted his hands off and then looked her squarely in the eyes. “All the precious things in life deserve protection,” he murmured, cupping Tempest’s face with both hands. He rubbed his thumbs along her cheekbones, his touch feather-soft against her skin.

  “I was never meant to be protected,” she whispered. Her breath caught as she scooted closer, her belly erupting into a million butterflies. “I’m a warrior.”

  He chuckled, his molten eyes creasing at the corners as he smiled. “Trust me, I know. You are the fiercest creature I’ve ever had the pleasure—and displeasure—of meeting. But you must know that those who love you will always protect you.”

  Love?

  He leaned closer, and her lips parted. He was finally going to kiss her. Her eyes closed as he pressed the gentlest of kisses first on her left cheek, then on her right.

  Her eyes fluttered open when he pulled away.

  “Tempest Madrid, I love you.”

  Her heart stopped.

  “You are my match in every way. You’re proud and stubborn. Your sense of honor knows no bounds, and you have a mischievous streak that runs deep. Let your guard down and let me love you. Trust that I won’t ever hurt you. I will always choose you.”

  “Why?” she blurted, feeling stupid as soon as the word escaped her.

  “Because you are everything.” He brushed his nose against hers. “You, love, are my mate.”

  “And I have no say?” she said faintly, trying to conjure up any information about Talagan matings.

  “You will always have a say. But know this: I will never stop fighting for you. You are mine just as much as I am yours.”

  Oh. Oh. There would be no getting rid of him.

  She blinked when he released her and stood. “Where are you going?”

  “Out. If I stay here much longer, I don’t think it will be wise.” His eyes swept her from head to toe and Pyre quirked a smile. “I plan on leaving you innocent for now.”

  Her belly flipped and Tempest realized she was staring at his lips. Time to change the subject. She glanced toward the fire. “I still need my own tent.”

  “My people know who you are to me. No one thinks anything improper.”

  She tossed a droll look his way, and he held up his hands, wearing a small smirk.

  “Well, I’m sure there are some rumors. But if you get your own tent, I’ll just sleep outside that one.”

  He was crazy.

  “You’d sleep outdoors in the snow?”

  “Shifter, love. I run hotter than you do.” He clapped his hands together. “So, I vote you stay in here one final night. Tomorrow is likely the day the Hounds will attack. We will need everyone at their best. Disrupting your sleep pattern will hinder you for the battle. You need to keep your strength up if you’re going to ride into the fray with me tomorrow.”

  “Why tell me this now?” she asked, her stomach knotting.

  “No time like the present. I want no regrets, and you deserve to know, whether you decide to accept my feelings or not.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to admit she wanted him, but the words wouldn’t come out. She swallowed. “Do you think it wise to fight together? I don’t want to be a distraction.”

  “We’re better together than apart, right?”

  They did make a magnificent team.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then goodnight, my mate.”

  “Not your mate,” she called after him as he moved toward the exit.

  He paused and winked over his shoulder. “Yet, you’re mine. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”

  She picked up her half-eaten bread roll and took a bite, not willing to admit anything out loud, even though she already knew it in her heart.

  Pyre was right.

  Thirty-Five

  Pyre

  Pyre’s pulse thundered in his ears as his horse galloped toward the chaos.

  Years of planning had led to this moment.

  Talagan warriors in all shapes and sizes were by his side as they charged toward Destin’s army. Pyre glanced to his right and grinned. It was everything and nothing like he imagined.

  A Hound rode beside him.

  My mate.

  Tempest’s periwinkle hair streamed back from her intense face in a tangle of braids. She stood out in her Hound uniform, silver armor gleaming. He’d tried to get her to wear something else—she drew too much attention—but she wouldn’t have it. She’d vowed to protect the Crown as a Hound, even from wicked kings. Today, she’d wear her uniform proudly.

  She glanced at him and jerked her chin toward the enemy line as if to tell him to get his head in the game. The grin he gave her was feral as he urged his horse forward. She flew ahead on her dappled gray mare, hands twitching around the reins of her horse.

  For one second, he wanted to chase after her, but he tamped it down. She was a warrior, and this was w
ar. The incident with Maven at the wedding ceremony flashed through his mind. The prince had almost cut him because he was distracted by Tempest. Too much was at stake to make the same mistake. If all he did was worry over her, he’d end up getting them both killed.

  A soldier charged at him on his own gray war horse, brandishing his sword. Pyre ducked and slammed his own blade into the man, knocking him from his saddle and into the writhing fray. Pyre kept on going, felling one enemy after another. He pulled on the reins of his mount and scanned the battle for Tempest.

  He grinned as he watched her pick off a king’s man with her bow. She was a machine. Every shot she took found its target. A soldier swinging a huge axe raced toward her, his face a mask of rage. Pyre’s blood went cold. Tempest didn’t see him until the last second. She turned and loosed two arrows in succession into the man’s chest. He slumped forward and crashed to the ground near the hooves of her prancing mount. She was a goddess. A fierce, beautiful, deadly goddess.

  He pulled his attention from her and scanned the battlefield. Where was his wretched sire? If they cut off the head of the snake, the Hounds could take it from there. His ears twitched at the sound of a horse screaming, and his attention snapped to his left just as Brine was tossed from his wounded horse and the mount crashed to the ground, crushing the enemy soldier.

  Pyre crashed through the soldiers to Brine’s side and nimbly swung off. He held out the reins as the wolf clambered to his feet with a curse. Blood ran down his brow and into his face, but he smiled.

  “Take the horse,” Pyre commanded. “We both know you’re the better rider.”

  “Damn right I am!” his commander muttered before he swung up into the saddle, brandishing his axe. “Have you spotted him yet?”

  “Not yet, but I will.”

  Brine bared his teeth, a wild glint in his eyes. “Take his head off, Pyre. Only, make him suffer first. For what he did to our people. For what he’s done to his people. And for what he did to our lass.”

  They shared a look of understanding before Brine took off into the fray.

  Pyre spun to meet the next attack. His sword clanged against the enemy’s sword with a sound that made his teeth rattle. He tore his dagger from his chest sheath and slashed at the man’s torso. The soldier cried out and dropped to his knees. Pyre kicked him and moved on.

  Pyre waded into the chaos, hardly hearing anything around him. The world surrounding the Jester faded, and all he could focus on was the next opponent, the perfect strike point, and the safest route for escape.

  His sword bit into the flesh of his newest foe, and he watched, completely unfazed, as life drained from the man’s gaze. He released the warrior and lifted his own head, once again scanning his warriors, searching for who needed help.

  Talagans used the trees as protection, darting in and out, attacking the soldiers. To some, it might have seemed cowardly, but it was the smart way to fight. It was the shifter way to fight. War was ugly.

  Owls, lions, and wolves fell on the soldiers, and Pyre didn’t look any closer. He took no pleasure in death or in the doomed soldiers who were only doing their jobs.

  The hair at the nape of his neck rose as he spotted Nyx battling a warrior who was twice her size. Terror seized him.

  His sister was sweating and fighting with everything she had. Pyre dug his toes into the ground and pushed forward, racing toward the duel. While Nyx was faster, her opponent had worn her down with his brute strength. Pyre cut through the swathe, his heart pounding. Only a little farther. If he could reach them, it would be a fair fight.

  Big heavy snowflakes fell from the sky like someone had cut a feather pillow and dumped it from above. The soldier swept Nyx’s feet out from under her, and Pyre put on a burst of speed as the man slammed his boot down on Nyx’s knee. She screamed, her face paling.

  Pyre’s focus honed in on the enemy as he lifted his sword. Nyx retched but managed to slash wildly at the man’s Achilles tendon. The soldier bellowed, his eyes squeezed closed. The Jester smiled darkly, sprinting the last few steps.

  The soldier opened his eyes just in time to see his death. Pyre drove his sword into the soldier’s chest. The man teetered and gasped for a second, and then crashed backward. The kitsune yanked his sword back and dropped to his knees next to his sister, running his hands over her torso, looking for injuries.

  “How bad is it?” he murmured, searching the area for any more threats.

  Nyx panted, her face creased with pain. “My knee. I felt something tear. I can’t walk.”

  “I’ll pull you back.” Pyre stood and lifted her into his arms. He ran toward the nearby trees and set her down behind a fallen log. “I’ll send someone for you.”

  His sister waved him off and propped herself up, holding her bow in her hands. “I’ll be fine here. Leave me.”

  He hesitated and scanned the battle. No enemies were close to this area. She was as safe as she could be. “Keep your attention sharp—” His eyes narrowed, and he stilled, spotting his prey in the middle of the battle.

  Destin.

  A warrior lunged at the king, and Destin stabbed the man with a smile. The king threw his head back and laughed before engaging his next opponent. His bodyguards formed a loose circle around him. Pyre grinned as he recognized each of the Hounds. Destin had no idea that his protection was the enemy.

  Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Pyre re-sheathed his dagger and palmed the pommel of his sword before striding back into the chaos, his attention zeroed in on the king. Destin wielded a deadly two-handed broadsword. It would be impossible to battle him within close range until Pyre dealt with the sword. He would not be able to get in a close-range attack until the weapon had been knocked to the side.

  A soldier rushed him, and Pyre met him with a quick slash of his sword. Blood sprayed across the kitsune’s face as he jerked the blade back. Blood ran down his forearm, and the soldier gurgled before all life fled from his eyes.

  Pyre lifted his head and locked eyes with the king.

  Destin smiled. “I knew you’d find yourself here. Come here, so I can get a closer look at my long-lost bastard son.”

  “Gladly,” Pyre bit back.

  The king waved away his Hounds, and Pyre hid his mirth. Even if Destin hadn’t done so, they would have moved aside.

  The kitsune studied his sire for a long second. The man was taller and had broader shoulders. It was clear he was powerful. That was where his advantages ended.

  Pyre was quicker. Much, much quicker. Thanks to his shifter abilities, he was stronger as well.

  “It’s been a long time,” Pyre said lowly, circling the king.

  “Not long enough,” Destin responded, matching each of Pyre’s movements. “Rumor was you were dead.”

  “The rumor was greatly exaggerated, I’m afraid.”

  The king lunged, his sword chopping through the air. Pyre leaped back and danced around the man. Destin feinted several times, but he could see that the king never intended to strike. He was trying to draw Pyre into an attack. It wasn’t going to work. He’d waited years for this. He could hold out.

  “I heard your betrothed has gone missing,” Pyre said conversationally.

  A flicker of anger rippled across Destin’s face. “So, you’re going to play it that way?” The king shook his head. “Do you really think she meant anything to me?”

  Pyre shrugged and feinted before continuing to circle. “No, but you’ve never liked it when anyone takes your things. Does it rankle that she’s been mine this entire time?”

  Destin’s face contorted and then smoothed. “Does it rankle you that I’ve had my hands and mouth all over her? You should have heard the sweet sounds she made.”

  It was a close thing, but Pyre barely kept it together. The king couldn’t know that he actually cared for Tempest. Pyre forced out a chuckle. “Just another piece to our game, but it’s interesting that she never gave herself to you. She made you look like a fool.”

  Destin snapped.

/>   He attacked, and Pyre blocked his swing and dodged to the side, smiling as he used the snow to slide. The king pursued the attack in a series of blows. The kitsune dodged and blocked, sweat dampening the back of his neck. Destin’s sword slammed into his, and it reverberated throughout his entire body, his teeth clacking together.

  Pyre leaned closer and bared his teeth at the king. “Even if you win today, you will always look weak because of a woman.”

  His sire disengaged, his chest rising up and down with his harsh breaths. “Women are tricky creatures. Take your mother, for example.”

  Pyre stiffened and tried not to let his emotions run free.

  Destin smiled. “Such a lowborn pretty thing. So pretty that I could look over her Talagan heritage. She begged me to take her as my mistress, but in the end blamed me for her own mistakes.”

  Pyre tried not to focus on the sneered words and studied the king’s movements, starting to find a pattern. Pyre needed to bide his time. He tensed his back when his sword took the brunt of the king’s next swing. Damn, the man could hit hard.

  That’s right. Use all your stamina.

  Destin saw his grimace, eyes glinting and bloodthirsty at what he had clearly decided was an impending victory. “’Tis a shame your mother was a shifter, Jester,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow. “You could have been something.”

  Pyre whipped his dagger out and slashed the king’s right arm. His sire cursed and jerked away with a wild swing.

  “No, ’tis a shame my father was you,” he countered.

  Destin dropped his left arm, presenting a hole in his defense. Pyre jabbed his sword forward. His blade hit steel, and the king wrapped his hand around the blade and wrenched it out of Pyre’s hand, tossing it into the mud. He had not expected that. His sire took a step toward him, and Pyre was forced to take one back, both of his daggers already in his hands. He kept his expression schooled, even as he tasted victory. This was exactly where he wanted the king. He wanted the monster to believe he’d won.