by Bec McMaster
“We all saw the Queen of Aska strike a deal with my mother. Queen Maren will abstain from interfering, and in return, my mother will leave Aska alone. Which leaves one kingdom between her and Stormhaven. If I were Ravenal, I would start to wonder how it would feel to have the Queen of Aska to the west and my mother to the north, without the knife of Evernight at her back to distract her.” I let go of her hand. “If we fall, then Ravenal is next.”
Lucere clutches her fist to her chest. “How strange then that Queen Adaia promises us peace if we abstain from interfering. We received a letter from her but days before you arrived. It’s almost as if she knew you would come to beg for an alliance.”
Of course, she did. My mother’s no fool. Every move she makes is well-plotted. “If you trust your great-grandmother’s murderer to stick to her word, then you’re a fool.”
Lucere sets her empty goblet of wine down with a clank. “Be careful who you call a fool, Princess. You are talking to a future queen. One who has much to thank the Queen of Asturia for.”
And then she’s gone in a whirl of skirts.
Prince Corvin smiles at me faintly. “There are some who say my dearest sister didn’t even shed a single tear when we received news of great-grandmother’s death. In fact, it’s almost as if she… expected it.”
Fair warning.
“I hope she enjoys her reign then. Because if Lucere expects my mother to concede to any of the demands she makes, then I think she’ll find it… brief. If you’ll excuse me?” I don’t give him the chance to answer.
I’m the fool. I should have foreseen this. My mother knows we need allies, and while the night of the Queensmoot may not have all gone her way, she always has a second plan up her sleeve.
I stalk across the gathering, though I’m only halfway when I realize someone is swimming against the tide of fae in my path. A dark head appears, and then a set of familiar broad shoulders.
My husband’s hot green eyes lock on my face. “A dance, my love?”
“Another one?” I tease as I accept his hand.
Music swirls around us as if the orchestra realizes the mood of the crowd and wants to stir more mischief.
“What did Corvin say?” he murmurs. “You looked like you were going to choke him on his own wine.”
We can’t speak of anything important here, with ears listening in on every side.
I smile sweetly. “He was just informing me about your almost-betrothal to Lucere. You’ll forgive me my shock, as I thought you would have mentioned such a thing before we arrived.”
You promised there would be no more secrets.
Thiago’s gaze cuts to Corvin. “I ought to pluck that bastard.” His attention returns to me. “I didn’t mention it because nothing came of it. And it wasn’t a betrothal. Ravenal opened negotiations. I said I would discuss it with them at the next Queensmoot. Except I never got a chance, because the second I arrived, there you were, gowned in pure starlight. I couldn’t look away from you then, and nothing has changed since that moment.”
It eases something inside of me. “You should have warned me.”
“I should have. But as far as I was concerned, there was nothing to warn you of. I honestly didn’t think of it.”
I stare at him. Men.
His grip tightens. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
Maybe.
It’s difficult to shake off years of neglect when you spent your entire childhood competing with your sister for a scrap of your mother’s attention.
I don’t want to be jealous, but the tight, burning feeling in my chest betrays me.
“You have no reason to be.” His hand sweeps down my hip, his fingers becoming a little possessive. “You are mine, Vi. Now. Forever. Always. And I don’t care who I have to fight to keep you in my arms.”
I hate this. I hate the fact that no matter how many times he pledges his love to me, there’s a little piece of my heart that feels as though I don’t deserve to be loved. “I love you,” I whisper.
Thiago blinks, and then he draws me closer, the look in his eyes growing heated. “Do you?” His breath stirs the silken strands of hair that are tucked behind my ear. “I can count the number of times I’ve heard those words from your lips on both hands.”
“Really?” Surely, I’ve told him before.
“You used those words to say goodbye to me,” he tells me starkly, and his fingers dig into my skin unconsciously. “You would say it before I had to return you to your mother, and then the next time I saw you, your eyes wouldn’t even recognize me.”
And he would have to earn my heart all over again.
The cage of my gown constricts me. “I hate her so much.”
“As do I.”
“They didn’t believe me. I tried to convince them my mother will see us all to the Underworld, and they laughed. My mother has offered them peace.”
He stills for a second before he sweeps me in another circle. I spin under his arm, and as I twirl our eyes meet, every single time.
Finally, the music slows. And so does he.
I float to a halt as Thiago takes me in his arms and then leans down and kisses me.
“Then we’ll see what we can offer them in return,” he purrs in my mind as we link.
“Come.” He draws me through the doors, into the gardens beyond.
“Where are we going?”
But all he gives me is a dangerous smile as he lures me into the darkness.
Chapter Ten
“Thiago!” I gasp as he pushes me against the garden wall. I steal a swift glance toward the bonfires in the center of the gardens. “Someone might see us.”
Hot kisses score my throat, and then his hands are sliding through my hair. “I don’t care if they do. You’re my wife. I want all the world to know it.”
Gods, the way he says things like this….
There’s a part of me that still yearns to hide all the feelings that tremble within me. I love him. I will never stop loving him. But when you’ve spent years hiding your every emotion, it’s instinct to keep such thoughts close to your heart, where no one can ever, ever know.
It takes conscious effort to shed the mantle I use to guard my heart.
Each and every fucking time.
Maybe one day it will be easier.
So I kiss him instead, yielding to his touch. Let them see. Let them all see. I have no further need to hide.
My fingers tangle in his shirt, and I tilt my head to give him better access to my throat.
“You are mine,” he whispers, palms skimming beneath the silk and up my back. “And I am yours, and I want the whole cursed world to know it.”
The flush of his power tingles all over my skin, his oath sliding over his tongue like honeyed mead and sinking into my flesh like a barb. His kiss burns, both with power and with promise. It whispers dirty little nothings in my ear, lets me imagine just how good this would feel if there was no material between us. Nothing but naked skin, nothing but the power of his muscled body pinning mine beneath him, burying me in silken sheets while he took and ravaged and....
He slips the gown from my shoulders, baring my breasts to the moonlight. Teeth graze my nipple, and then he’s suckling it into his mouth.
I want him inside me.
I want what he promises.
Capturing a fistful of his hair, I draw his mouth to mine and bite his lower lip. “Then do it,” I whisper. “Take me. Right here. Right now.”
Fingers skate beneath my skirts, and he finds the golden chains that are woven around my thigh.
His eyes darken as he realizes I’m not wearing a thing beneath the silk, and a rough laugh escapes him. “Were you planning to seduce me?”
“Maybe.” I throw my head back against the stones and bite my lip as his fingertips graze the slick skin between my thighs. Oh gods. Thirteen years of stealing my heart means he knows exactly what I like—while I’m still trying to work out his own little secrets.
My dark prince likes
to be in control, though he’ll cede it to me if I demand it. But sometimes I like the way he captures my wrists and presses me against the bed—or a wall. And I love the feel of his teeth in my skin, as if he wants to mark me.
“Maybe I just like knowing I have a little secret from the world,” I whisper in his ear. “Maybe I like feeling that slickness between my thighs whenever you look at me, knowing I can have you whenever I want. Maybe I just want you to lift my skirts and fuck your way into me.” I curl his hand around a fistful of fabric. “Just. Like. This.”
“Mmm.” His gaze darkens. “Are you wet, Vi? Have you been dreaming of what I’d do to you once I finally got you alone?”
I bite his lip. “All night.”
Especially when I saw Lucere smiling at him.
It’s one thing to know he’ll never look her way, but the very idea she might try makes me want to stake my claim upon him. I’m feeling not at all myself tonight.
“Enough talking,” I tell him.
His smile holds all manner of sins. “I like it when you’re a little bit possessive.”
Thiago shoves my skirts up, this thumb stroking between us. A delicious shiver works its way through me, but it’s not what I want. If I give him a chance, he’ll spend hours torturing me.
I just want him inside me.
The timing’s better, and I’ve been drinking bitter nettle tea every day.
Capturing his face in both hands, I kiss him desperately, and I think he gets the idea, because his hand dips between us, but it’s not me he’s touching.
And then he steps forward, his hips wedging themselves between my thighs. One hand hooks under the curve of my ass as he lifts me and impales me with one smooth thrust, driving my back against the wall.
My fingers dig into his shoulders as my body is forced to welcome him. I’m dripping wet, and yet he’s large enough that my body needs to accustom itself to him, and some part of me loves that fierce ache.
Mine.
He’s mine, and no one will ever take him from me. I want to feel his possession. I want to wake tomorrow with my body aching and know that my first thought will be a memory of tonight.
Firelight flickers in the distance.
A myriad of shapes dance around it as the people of Ravenal seek to celebrate our arrival.
Anyone could see us.
But when I look up, Thiago’s not watching them. He watches me, as if he wants to own every thought that races through my mind.
“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he breathes as he thrusts with ruthless intent within me. “You look like all the stars woven into one.” His gaze dips to my breasts. “You look like you were made for me, and me alone.”
“I was,” I whisper.
His gaze jerks to mine.
“As you were made for me. Did Maia not show you my face? Did She not promise that we were meant for each other?”
A shudder runs through him.
I can sense the Darkness within him wanting to break free. He’s always fought it, trying to cage his own nature.
“Harder,” I whisper as the stones bruise my backs and hips. “Show me that we were made for each other.”
And he does.
It’s not sweet or gentle. This is need. This is a claim. Mine, says his body, and I surrender everything that I am, drinking at his mouth as he fucks his way in and out of me.
It’s a battle to see who will break first.
I laugh as I squeeze my inner muscles, watching feral need ignite in his eyes. But then his teeth graze my nipple, and his hands grip my hips, and everything feels wickedly good.
I let him ride me beneath the moon, head thrown back and spine arched unabashedly. Firm fingers dig into my thighs, the corded muscle in his throat clenching as if he’s getting close, before he throws his head back with a hiss.
I want him to lose it.
I want to have him wild and uncontrolled. I want his gasp. I want the little tremor that shivers through his abdomen when he comes. I want to see his white teeth sinking into his lower lip.
I want him undone.
Clenching my inner muscles around him, I work him until the point where I know he’s about to lose it. And then I capture his face and kiss him.
It’s sloppy and messy, and somehow, he sees it as his turn. Slipping from my body, he flips me onto my front on the grass, and then he’s back, driving into me from behind.
“It was my turn!” I protest.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, and then he thrusts into me hard, fucking me from behind with my legs curled up beneath me.
Blessed Maia. I clutch the grass and his hand curls over mine, our fingers lacing together.
Each thrust slows, until he’s grinding over something deep inside me.
“Vi.” A hot gust of breath whispers against my cheek, and then his other hand wraps around my throat.
“Don’t stop! Don’t—”
I come with a soft cry as he gives one last thrust, and he shivers over me, grinding with slow intent before he pulls free at the last minute. Hot seed gushes on my leg, and the second I feel it, my heart stutters a bit.
This was the deal we both made.
The price of my bargain with the Mother of Night.
Bitter nettle tea notwithstanding, we cannot risk allowing his seed to take root.
We both collapse on the grass, breathing hard.
Thiago curls over me, his teeth skimming up my throat. “No one else, Vi. There will never be anyone else for me. You and I were born to fall in love. And we will chase the stars together, or we will drown in darkness. Together. There is no other option.”
I trail my fingers down his sweat-slicked chest, fussing with one of his missing buttons. He was right. Everyone is going to know. It’s written all over our skin and faces.
And I want to laugh with joy, because he’s finally mine and now I get to share that with the world. No more hiding.
“Together,” I whisper. “Forever.”
Thiago kisses the tips of my fingers, and then he sets about cleaning me up, grumbling under his breath at the fact I’m not wearing any underwear and he has to use the hem of his cloak.
“Poor little princeling,” I tease, my gaze dipping over the generous vee of his chest that his shirt reveals. “All mussed and torn. You’ll have to find a new shirt.”
And I watch his face as he props himself on his knuckles, giving me a satisfied little smile. “Fuck the shirt. We’ll just say I fell into a thicket of thorns. Repeatedly.”
Chapter Eleven
Ravenal’s library is what I’m here for, and the following morning I slip away to find it.
The lock is easy to pick and I slip inside, summoning a tiny faelight to brighten the gloom. Heavy drapes spill to the floor, but the tower that houses the library is silent. Cold.
Empty.
Perfect.
Thiago rode out with Lucere, Corvin and Kyrian while I pleaded a light headache.
He gets to enjoy the company of the Ravenal siblings and the Prince of Stormlight, while I can go play in the library. I don’t envy him.
If I were an ancient book about dangerous crowns, where would I hide?
I spend the first half hour investigating the shelves to the south of the room, but there’s nothing of interest.
I tug Age of Immortals by Galen the Great down from a shelf.
Hmm.
I flip through the gilt-lined pages. When the Mother of Night tasked me with finding the Crown of Shadows, she told me it was lost to mortal memory. But words mean a thousand things in the fae courts.
And there are still a handful of true immortals remaining in Arcaedia.
“What are you doing in here?” a voice demands.
I nearly drop the book on my foot. The faelight winks out with a thought, but there’s nowhere to run. A trio of faelights bob toward me, one hovering right in my face so I can barely see the woman stalking toward me.
“Reading?” I suggest.
The light lowers, and then a slim young woman comes into view, scowling at me. “This is a private library that belongs to the royal family of Ravenal. And it was locked, because I was the one who locked it.”
“One of the maids directed me this way. I was looking for something to read.”
“And did they unlock the door for you too?”
I shrug. “Don’t tell me you’ve never slipped through a locked door when there was an entire treasure trove of books on the other side.”
“That is beside the point.”
Ah. A fellow book thief. “I didn’t think the crown princess would mind. She told me to enjoy the hospitality Ravenspire offered. I took that as invitation.”
“Well, the library doesn’t belong the crown princess. The library is mine,” the young woman snaps.
A royal library…. There were other princes and princesses introduced to me last night—Lucidia’s line was particularly fecund—but I don’t think I saw her face in the crowd.
“What’s your name?”
The young woman replaces the book on the shelf. “Imerys.”
“Princess Imerys? You weren’t at the ball last night.”
She steps forward and I catch a better look at her as the faelights back away.
I’m a little envious, to be honest. Her hair falls down her spine in a silken waterfall so black it almost gleams like a raven’s feathers, although some strands of it are dyed blue on the ends.
My hair is neither straight nor curly, and the second there’s any humidity in the air, it’s a mess.
Imerys has cheekbones that can cut, and there’s a touch of the Danesh Su about her features. Their empire lies to the west of the Far Isles where the fae male I once thought was my father still lives, though merchants from the empire make up a large majority of the Far Isles’ population.