by Bec McMaster
“What the fuck were you planning to do with that thing?” I squeak, looking down as I heave my weight forward onto my knees. “Broach the castle walls?”
Keir captures my thighs in his hands, his eyes lazy-lidded. “Maybe I’ll fuck you into oblivion instead. Maybe we can dispense with these stupid games and simply skip to the enjoyable part.”
Another squeak of shock escapes me. “Games?”
“What’s wrong, Zemira?” His thumbs ride up the inner slope of my thighs. “You can take it. You know you can take it all.” A dangerous look enters his eyes. “I’ll even let you be on top.”
Oh no. This is a bad idea.
My body begs otherwise.
“We’re enemies,” I blurt. “You locked me into a year and a day of service. You’re a dragon. You’re supposed to be concentrating on the horn!”
“Keep lying, my love.” His thumb digs into my inner thighs as he runs the other hand up my leg. “Maybe we’ll both believe it.”
What is happening here?
He rolls me onto my back again, and then he’s kissing his way down my throat and I let him.
“They’re all truths,” I blurt as his lips reach the edge of my neckline. I can’t believe the dress is still in place.
He lifts his head, his eyes shining like lighthouses in the night. “You’re only my enemy if you believe it, Mira.”
Mira.
I can’t breathe. No. No, this isn’t happening.
“And yes, I will hold you to me for a year and a day.” His roughened palm skates up the silk of my dress, right where I want it. I gasp and can’t help undulating as it curves over my breast. “I will hold you to me forever, if you let me.”
“I. Can’t.”
Frustration firms that sensual mouth, and his hand stills. “Why not?”
Why not, indeed?
“Because you’re a prince!” I yell. “You own me.” And my father will kill me if he catches wind of this, or worse—he’ll see a means to bend the Prince of Dreams to his whims. I don’t know which is worse. I have to stop this. “And you are meant to be flirting with other women! What happened to our plan?”
“Change of plans.” His eyes are like molten pools of fire as he stares down at me. “There will be no more of this distance between us. You belong to me. You’re my promised bride.” He leans closer, his breath stirring against my scalded lips. “And I don’t care what anyone thinks. You will be by my side until this plays out. You’ll sit on my fucking knee if I have to make you. You don’t leave the room without me, you don’t vanish into thin air—”
A growl of frustration escapes me. Trust a fae prince to start making power plays when I definitely do not need them. “Why not just tattoo ‘property of the Prince of Dreams’ on my ass?”
There’s a look in his eyes, one I don’t like at all. “Don’t tempt me.”
“You’re supposed to be the distraction. Not painting glowing foxfire all over me that says ‘this bitch needs to be watched.’”
He captures my chin. “You’re already being watched. You have a fucking blood curse wrapped around your heart, Zemira.” His voice comes out half-growl, all menace. “You want a choice? Then here’s your choice… you obey my new rules, or I’ll go after Belladonna and remove the threat of that blood curse.”
He’s going to set the entire court on fire.
Or maybe rip her heart right out of her chest.
I can see it in his expression.
I shove against his chest and escape the close confines of his body. “Fine. No more solitary sojourns. Drape me over your knee, pretend I’m the woman who stole your heart, stomp the ground and beat your chest like some pagan beast making his claim, but do not ruin this for me. If you kill the princess, I lose any chance we have at getting our hands on that horn.”
And that, I can’t allow.
Keir’s lips curl in a satisfied smile. “I won’t kill her, Zemira. But an affront to my claim on you like this must be satisfied.”
I thump his chest with my fist. “Don’t—”
He captures my hand and presses a heated kiss into the palm of it. “I’ll do nothing that will risk the horn. I swear to you, by the Goddess who Blessed me, I won’t harm a single hair on her head.”
It will have to do.
I finally nod.
And then I escape to the antechambers so I can breathe again, knowing I just left a territorial dragon in my bed unsated.
9
“Did you sleep well?” Keir purrs the next morning, leaning down to brush a kiss against my throat as I stab a plump berry on my plate.
The brush of his lips lingers like a particularly irritable ghost long after he’s taken his seat across from me at the breakfast table. But his words conjure an entire night of tossing and turning as a shadowy figure crouches over me, his golden eyes gleaming as he kisses his way down my abdomen.
“Barely even moved,” I lie.
“Liar.” He plucks a raspberry from the bowl and places it in his mouth with such innuendo I can barely contain myself from shifting in my seat.
“Stop it,” I snarl. “Stop with the kissing. Stop with the touching. Stop this… foolishness. And stop sending me such dreams! I get it. I embarrassed you and now you can make me dance to your tune, but I want you out of my head! If you want your horn, then I need sleep!”
Keir’s hands pause on the lid of the honey jar as he glances up at me. I have a horrible moment where I see the confusion on his face turn smug and knowing.
Oh no.
“Dreams?” His voice has always been his most dangerous weapon, and there’s a roughened edge to it that scrapes over my skin. “If you’re suffering from dreams, then you should know… I did not send them. I have been most meticulous in staying out of your head, as any good ally should.” He licks the honey from his spoon, slowly and enticingly. “Tell me, my love, do I feature in these dreams of yours?”
He… didn’t send them?
Cauldron’s piss. I want to cringe under the table. Heat floods my face. “No, you do not.”
“Liar.” He points the spoon at me. “Am I naked in these dreams of yours?” He sees the red in my cheeks, and his smile widens into a predatory curve. “Or are you naked? And my love, if I wanted to punish you I wouldn’t be sleeping in a separate bed. I would have you bound to mine with silken ropes, and you would be begging me for—”
“Stop!” I clap my hands over my ears, because my own mind is quite sufficient at torturing me itself. I don’t need him to provide inspiration—though clearly my own perceptions have been a little limited.
Bound? By silken ropes?
Oh, no you don’t. I hastily haul my eager imagination back into line.
Horn. Cauldron. Betrayal.
In that order.
There will be no naked princes involved.
He laughs under his breath as he leans back in his chair. “You’re so ridiculously easy to rile.”
“I’m not the one threatening to murder a princess.”
“Who said anything about murder?” His eyes gleam. “I said she’d regret it.”
“Not today, she won’t.”
He smiles.
“You promised.”
“I promised,” he tells me. “But you need help, Zemira. This isn’t your world.”
“This isn’t yours either,” I point out.
“No, it isn’t. But power games? Posturing and preening? Having a knife at one’s throat? Those are things I know.” Setting both hands on the table, he leans forward. “I grew up in a world where every breath I took and word I spoke was liable to be held against me.” His eyelashes shadow his eyes. “These puny fae lords think they know power. I will show them power. I will make them dance to my tune before I am done. I’m not afraid of them, Zemira. And I will help you with this mystery. That’s not an option.”
“Those puny fae lords broke your precious dragons,” I remind him, “and chased you into oblivion. Don’t underestimate them.”
&nb
sp; A spark of anger smolders in his gaze. “It was never the fae who broke us. We did that to ourselves.”
“And you shouldn’t be speaking so openly,” I hiss, glancing at the walls of the breakfast salon in our rooms. “If they find out what you are, they’ll cut your heart out of your chest for the sheer power contained within it.”
“The rooms are warded,” he points out. “Nothing can overhear us. And they can try.” There’s something about the smile he gives me that tells me he wants them to. “I would like to see them try.”
He’s going to get me killed.
Worse, he’s going to get us both killed.
“I don’t work with amateurs.”
“Tell me again… how did Belladonna lure you into a trap?”
“Because I’m trying to play by the fucking rules,” I growl. As Merisel, I gain entrée to the highest circles in the land, but it also comes with its own shackles.
“Wrong.” Keir leans back in his chair. “You’re trying to work alone. You had your sister to watch your back when you stole into my realm. This time, you will have me.”
It’s like arguing with a brick wall. I throw my hands up. “Fine. On one condition: I’m in charge. And you will obey me. If I tell you to do something, then I want to see you do it. Immediately.”
“Agreed.” Just like that, he eases back in his chair.
Oh, no. I’m not that foolish.
He wants something from me and thinks he just managed a way to get it.
But what?
“Talk to me about your plans,” he says.
“Something’s going on with this wedding.” I suckle the yoghurt off the spoon. “Neither the bride nor the groom seems to be satisfied with the arrangement.”
“Did Belladonna give you a timeframe in which to kill Alaric?”
“Before the wedding.” I frown at the wallpaper. “I’m not sure what to do there. I have four days to kill the Lord of Mistmark—or die myself.”
“You’re not going to die.” There’s a faint hint of the growl back in his voice.
Fine. We won’t return to that argument—because I’m fairly certain it’s only going to end with me pinned to the breakfast table.
“So next move?” he asks.
“There was something Anissa said about letters. ‘The letters have to be here somewhere….’” In my experience, it’s the little details that deliver the dragon’s horde. “Since Soraya was posing as her maid, I have to presume she somehow got her hands on compromising letters.”
“Blackmail?”
“Maybe.” I tap the spoon against my lips. “It’s not the way I’d play it. The point is to remain unseen.”
“The question is: Does Anissa think Soraya was the one blackmailing her or did someone else take the letters and use her to cover their tracks?”
I have no answer to that. “More questions, no answers.”
“Then what’s next?”
“Mistmark’s assassin, Falion, said he gave the bridal tithe to a questing beast.”
Keir looks up sharply. “Assassin?”
Right. I haven’t quite had a chance to fill His Highness in on the entirety of the previous day. I swiftly tell him about the meeting between Mistmark and Falion in the maze.
“And he saw you in the shadows?” he muses.
I recall the way Falion searched the party. “I don’t think he saw me. I think he sensed someone watching him. He knew someone was there—don’t ask me how—but he didn’t know who.”
Keir brushes his thumb against his mouth thoughtfully. “Hmm. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone in Mistmark’s party matching that description.”
“Do you.... Do you think there’s another Shadow Walker out there?” The urge to clear my throat is incredibly strong. I’ve never met anyone like me before. I’ve never met anyone who even knows what I am apart from Keir and my father.
His gaze cuts to me. “It’s possible. It was an ancient gift that was bred through the bloodlines of only two courts; the Court of Shadows and the Court of the Moon and Stars. Both royal houses could walk the shadows, thanks to a common ancestor, though until you appeared, I was under the impression the gift had been long-lost to the Court of Shadows.”
“It is. Or it was.” A frown etches itself between my brows. The Court of Shadows is my father’s court, though the Seelie refer to it now as the Court of the Forbidden. And my father was thrilled when I began to Sift. It’s the one thing that’s stayed his hand all these years—my rare talent, and the way he can use it. “Court of the Moon and Stars?”
I’ve heard the name, but know little about it.
“It was destroyed nearly twenty or thirty years ago,” he says. “It bordered the Court of Dawn, but their king was beginning to grow ambitious, and the power of the Court of the Moon and Stars was growing. A new queen was rising to power within that court, and some say King Ryddhaen of Dawn couldn’t bear to see her come to power. The old queen died, and the night before Princess Zyra’s coronation, her household was attacked. The court was burned, Zyra’s sisters were slaughtered, and her body was never found.”
“Twenty or thirty years ago? That’s a large span of time, Keir. Your specifics are terrible.”
“What is time to a dragon?”
I tap my spoon against my lips. “If this Falion has the gift, then he had to belong to the Court of the Moon and Stars.” And was most likely of their royal bloodlines. “What in the Shadow Lands is he doing with Mistmark?”
“The territories of Mistmark abut the lands that belong to the Court of Moon and Stars.” Keir shrugs. “If someone survived the massacre then he may have sought refuge with an ally.”
Interesting. I know why I want to continue this train of thought—it’s personal—but it’s not the most pressing matter in play. “I’ll keep an eye on him then. Falion may be dangerous. And speaking of dangerous, I’ve heard of questing beasts before, though I’ve never heard of one obeying a fae master. What am I dealing with here?”
“We,” he counters. “And we are dealing with a creature that is both deadly and vicious. They have the neck and head of a dragon-like creature, the body of a leopard, and the legs of a hart. I believe they spit acid, and they’re impervious to mortal weapons. I don’t know a lot about them. They were conjured in the third age while I was hibernating within my court.”
“Whatever it is, it can breathe fire.” And thank you for reminding me precisely how old you are.
He shrugs. “So can I.”
“I’ve never… asked you about your other form.” But I’ve seen the enormous spines of dragons buried in the forests. I’ve walked within the hollow sockets where their eyes lay.
He stills, his attention focusing entirely upon me. “Would you like to see my big, scaly tail, Zemira?”
There’s something about the smile that touches his lips that makes me swallow. “No, I think I’m fine with not seeing it.”
His laughter sounds like a rough-edged purr. “I never took you for a coward.”
“Not a coward,” I point out. “Just careful.”
He laughs again.
I clear my throat. “Now, if that is done, I’m going to go see if I can discover why Belladonna wants Mistmark dead. Unless you have an objection?”
Keir drums his fingers on the table.
I can tell he wants to say something.
“Well?” I demand.
“You own me,” he says softly as our eyes meet. “Last night you said ‘you own me.’ You think I would force you into my bed as payment for your debt?”
His words steal the winds from my sails. “No. I don’t think you would do that.”
I’ve faced a dozen lecherous fae lords in my time, but there’s nothing about Keir’s mannerisms that make me nervous. If anything, the desire he inspires within me is the thing that makes me uncomfortable.
The wanting what I can’t have.
The temptation to start dreaming….
It’s all there. A future I can never live t
aunting me at night like a beckoning Will o’ the wisp leading me to my doom.
His eyes narrow to thin slits. “I would never do that. I want you in my bed, Zemira, but I want you there of your own accord.”
“I know that.”
“But you hesitate.” He leans forward in his chair, his hands clasped between his knees as if he’s trying to solve a particularly complex equation. “You kissed me. You kissed me and then you pushed me away. Why?”
“Because….”
“You’re attracted to me.” He says it as though it’s a fact. “You want me.”
“I want a lot of things that aren’t good for me. It doesn’t mean I choose to pursue them.”
“Hmm….”
“You want to know what the problem is?” I snap. “You’re a prince. You’re a fucking dragon. When you walk through a forest, everything flees because you’re the predator. You can take what you want without consequence. For you, a kiss is just a kiss.” I hold my arms up so he can see the glyphs inked into them with magic. We’re the only ones who can see them. “For me, a kiss can never be just a kiss. The balance of power between us is skewed in your direction. You. Own. Me. Maybe you won’t insist I share your bed as payment, but even if I was to fall for your charms, the truth remains: We’re on uneven footing within this… partnership. And thankfully, I came to my senses last night before it was too late.”
His mouth opens, but….
For the first time since we’ve met, he appears to have nothing to say.
I roll my sleeves down and grab my knife off the table before sheathing it at my hip. “Now, I’m done playing by the rules. It’s only going to get me killed. Anissa and Belladonna are hiding something. Belladonna wants her betrothed dead. Malechus is holding something over Mistmark’s head in order to force him into marriage. Basically, we have two fae who do not wish to be married, and I want to find out why.”
Malechus is the key, I feel.
And in order to find the horn and Soraya, I think I need to know more about what’s going on with Malechus.
But I can’t tell Keir that, or else his hackles will rise again.