by Elise Kova
But I’m not frustrated enough to break away from his kiss, either. Maybe it’s because of fae magic they have yet to tell me about. I’m an utterly willing captive under him. My fingers slide underneath his shirt, following his collarbone. They wrap around his shoulders, holding him to me until the point that we have to force ourselves to separate for air.
His hair continues to partition us from the world. His green eyes hold their own luminescence in the darkness. I trace the outline the sheen from the kiss leaves on his lips with my eyes.
“I’m sorry I’m—”
“What could you possibly have to apologize for?” he interrupts.
A scarlet flush burns my cheeks. “I’m not well versed in these sorts of matters.”
“What sorts?” There’s a wicked glint in his eye as he traces his fingers down my cheek and neck. He teases the silken collar of my blouse. I’ve never been more aware of exactly how much fabric is covering me and where.
“You know what sorts,” I manage.
“I want to hear you say it.” His eyes flick from my chest to my face.
“The sorts of things that a lady of my standing isn’t permitted to indulge in until I’m wed.”
“Until you’re wed…” he repeats thoughtfully. “To think, I could’ve had you long ago and I never did.” Davien leans toward me again. I tilt up my face but he shifts so his lips brush against the shell of my ear as he whispers huskily. “Would you have enjoyed that? Your mysterious husband whose first name you didn’t even know coming to you in the night? Would you enjoy feeling my weight atop you in the darkness? Would you keep your eyes open, roving my silhouette for any hint of how I might look? Or would you close them and submit to every caress of my hands and mouth?”
Every inch of skin puckers into gooseflesh. My body responds to his words as if he were physically touching me and not merely describing the things he could do to me. Old gods help me, the things I think I want him to do to me.
“I thought of you, then,” I admit. I hadn’t ever expected to tell him so. But there’s nothing keeping me from him right now, not even my vault of secrets. “In the night, I would imagine you coming to me.”
“Oh?” He hums in the back of his throat. The sound rumbles though me, turning whatever bones I had left to molten heat. “Tell me what you would imagine.”
I suppress a groan. Why am I allowing him to do this to me? I should push him off and walk away. At least, that’s what my better sense tells me I should do. But my better sense is no longer in control. All I can think of is heeding his every demand, and I find a dark sensuality to the notion of setting my mind aside and following my instinct instead.
“I imagined you at my door, waking me from sleep…asking if you could stay the night in my bed.”
“And, in your fantasies, did you allow me to stay?”
“Every time.”
“And what did we do when I spent the night in your bed?”
I haven’t thought about these waking dreams since coming to Midscape. How long has it been since I first stepped foot in this strange world? A week? Two? A month? It could be a year for all I know in this moment. Time has become strange and distorted. I’m helpless underneath a fae and all I want is for him to kiss me again. And if it takes my telling him my darkest fantasies, then so be it.
“I felt you,” I whisper.
“How did you feel me?”
“I felt you on me, touching me. I felt you lavish all of your attention on me—for me, solely, only, completely for me.”
“And did it feel good?” His fingertips lazily caress down my chest on the arcs of my curves. I inhale sharply.
“Yes.”
“Good.” He pulls away, licking his lips. I have never seen anything more sensual. “Because in my every fantasy you felt nothing less than exceptional.”
“You…fantasized about me?” The thought of him awake and yearning for me, his large hands caressing every inch of what I now know is his firm body has my brain sputtering.
“Oh yes.” He rocks his hips against me and crashes his lips down on mine once more. He kisses me in time to the music as it rises outside. The band has struck up once more and our moans make a harmony to the crescendo in the square below. Davien holds my head in place, fingers tangled with my hair, tongue plundering my mouth. He has me right where he wants me, pulling me further and further away from anything that resembles reason or sense. When he breaks away, it’s only to get enough space to speak, lips moving over mine as he growls, “I imagined making you mine as a man should make his wife. I ached to take you to my bed and have you until you screamed my name and your throat was raw. Until my body was the only thing you knew or wanted.”
I initiate the kiss this time. His words have wound me up so tight that I’m going to break if I don’t have his mouth on mine again. I grab him, pulling myself toward him, abolishing the space between us—forsaking the cold night air for a primal heat that cannot be denied.
We kiss for an obscene amount of time. When he finally breaks away, I pant softly through swollen lips, gazing up at what is easily the most handsome man in existence. The crown still shines on his brow. King, ruler and protector, my king. Wordlessly, Davien shifts off of me. Our eyes remain locked, even if our bodies are no longer.
Crouching, he scoops me up, as though he’s going to carry us to the skies. But, instead, he takes me to the bed. My soul is soaring as he lays me down. The mattress is firmer than mine, but it still sags under his weight. Davien’s fingers curl around the back of my head once more.
“We only do as we desire.” He looks me dead in the eyes as he speaks. “Nothing more, nothing less. No expectations.”
“And no feelings,” I repeat our earlier promise.
He nods and kisses me again. Our hands and fingers explore, till long after the music stops in the square below. There are places on his body that I am still not brave or bold enough to explore yet, no matter how badly I might want to. He seems to take my lead, only going as far as I do. It results in a tug-of-war between passion and sensibility. Lust and reason and the hopeless space between where frustration makes its home.
Eventually, the kisses stop and we lay next to each other wordlessly, staring up at the ceiling framed by the top of the poster bed. I swallow thickly and brave a glance over to him, wondering if he will be upset we didn’t do more. There’s a slight smile to his lips, his eyelids heavy.
“I should go,” I whisper.
“Must you?” He shifts onto his side, propping up his head with his knuckles.
“We did as we desired.” The night’s events have my cheeks pulling into a sly smile. Even if I want so much more…this was good. It was enough. “No reason for me to stay.”
“Unless you don’t want to sleep alone?”
I consider the suggestion. I’ve never thought about how sleeping with another might feel. Would it be too hot under the duvet with the two of us? Would I kick him in the night? Or would his body curl around mine—a perfect fit? He would make me feel protected, safe…wanted… I shake my head and push away, sitting.
“Sleeping alone is fine. It’s served me well thus far.”
“Has it?” He arches a single eyebrow and I stand so he doesn’t see the roll of my eyes.
“Besides, sleeping together? That’s something actual married couples would do.”
“We were an actual married couple and didn’t sleep together.” He laces his fingers and puts them between his head and the pillow, watching me as I adjust my clothes. They’re still on, for the most part. Just a bit tugged askew from his eager hands.
“We were hardly an actual married couple.” I shrug. “You married me for a book. And I resented you for it as much as I could.”
“How far did that resentment get you?”
I scrunch my nose at him. “I think I liked you better when I was kissing you. You were silent then.”
He’s a blur of movement, kneeling on the bed before me, taking my hands. “I could resume k
issing you if it would encourage you to stay.”
“I’m tired.” I pull my hands away with a slight laugh.
“Then come back to me tomorrow.”
“I’ll think about it.” I doubt I will. I’ve succumbed to the urge. I’ve filled this need. There’s no reason to ever do this again.
“My door is unlocked for you whenever you desire, or should you change your mind about tonight.”
“I won’t change my mind about tonight, and we’ll see about tomorrow. I’m not your lover, after all.” I still as my eyes snag on the crown of flowers. It must’ve fallen off the first time when he laid me back. He might be a king, but that will be the only crown he could ever give me. Pointless. Condemned to rot. Discarded by dawn.
I ignore it, going only for the door. It’d be dangerous to accept too many gifts from him. He’d get the wrong idea. The flower crown stays on the floor. His remains on his head, somehow still there even after all our indulgences.
“You could be my lover, if you wanted. It’s not uncommon for kings.”
I freeze. As if that would be appealing to me. “That’s the last thing I want.”
“Why do you resist all notions of love so fervently?”
The question gives me pause. I stare into a dark corner of the room. Every memory of Joyce rises to the forefront of my mind. Her torture. Her candy-coated words to my father.
My father’s weak excuses, time and again. His explanations. Katria… I was lost in an abyss that she saved me from. You will never understand the wound the death of your mother left… Oh, I understood. I understood Joyce sold him lies and he bought them up faster than the silver from her mines.
Just like I understood how it became easier for Father with time to be on her side. The older I got, the more I looked like Mother. The harder it was for him to be around me. All the while, my home became a crumbling remnant of bygone days. Lost forever for what?
Ah, love.
“Because love is pain,” I whisper.
“Love is life.”
I glare at him and snap, “What would you know—a runaway prince locked in a tower who buys the only wife he’s ever had?”
Davien’s eyes widen a fraction, but instead of anger, his brow furrows into something that looks like focus. Sympathy radiates off of him. “What makes you say love is pain?”
I don’t answer, focused only on my escape route. With a flap of wings summoned in a blink and a shimmer of magic, he’s in front of me, hand holding the door shut just as I go to open it. I glare up at him.
“Let me out.”
“Why do you think love, of all things, is pain?”
“I have seen what happens when two people fall in love. One collapses into the other, all sense of self, and worth, and strength crumbling under the boot of the party who ends up on top.” Like the statue of my father that I had built in my mind, strong and resolute, turning to dust the moment Joyce entered our lives. “I have heard the bitter fights, the barbs, the hate that is slung and smoothed over in the name of love, precious love.”
“None of that is love,” he whispers.
I roll my eyes. “Love isn’t like the storybooks. It’s a transaction at best.”
“No.” Davien takes a step forward, encroaching on my personal space. “Love is the closest thing we have to meaning in this world. The love of a mother for her children, the love between friends, the love of a husband and wife, love for who we are and all those who strove before us to hand us the world we have now—love is why we live, why we fight, why we carry on when things get tough…it is not always easy. But it is our reprieve from true hardship, not the hardship itself.”
“You lie,” I seethe.
“Katria…” He trails off, eyes searching me. “What happened to you before you came to my home?”
“Let me pass.”
“I’m trying to—”
“Let me pass!” My voice raises a fraction and he steps aside quickly.
I yank the door before he can say anything else, storming out and barely resisting the urge to slam it in his face.
I lay in bed well past the sun the next morning. Footsteps echo down the hall as the world wakes around me. I wonder who else stays here—Shaye and Giles seem to. Oren, likely. Hol has his own home. Vena and her advisers, maybe?
My breath catches as a familiar gait traverses the hall. His steps seem to slow at my door, all but coming to a stop. How do I know him by his walk? Can I really smell him from here? Or is my mind dredging up memories of last night? Or, far more likely, does my skin still smell like his?
Davien keeps walking.
I keep replaying the night in my mind, but it doesn’t make any more sense the more hours that pass. I toss and turn. Not sleeping. But not feeling like I’m awake either. I’m trapped in those moments we shared. Moments that should have never transpired, but somehow did.
Why did I kiss him? Why did I let him kiss me? How did I end up in his bed?
I groan and roll over, tangling myself in the sheets. I ache from head to toe. I thought kissing him would relieve this tension but it has only made it worse.
When I can no longer bear the heat from stewing in my thoughts, I finally get up. The best thing I can do is confront Davien. The sooner we’re together, the sooner things will feel as though we’re back to normal. We can shrug off whatever happened last night as the oddity it was and move along.
“It’s normal, really. Two people, our age, obviously attracted to each other. These things happen. There’s no reason to read into it or make matters awkward. The itch was scratched, we’re done,” I murmur to myself, trying to find my own encouragement as I dress.
The flowing fae fashions are no longer odd to me. I’m more and more accustomed to showing my shoulders and arms than ever before, though I’m still mindful of my back. I wonder what my sisters would think if they could see me now, flowing sleeves and plunging necklines I’d never dare to wear back home. I stop and stare in the mirror. My skin is bright and dewy. My cheeks are rosy and lips full. The longer I stay here, the more and more I look as though I am a part of this world.
I wonder if there could be a way I’d never have to go back. If the king’s magic can keep me, a human, alive here, then maybe there’s something Davien could do for me that would allow me to stay and live out the rest of my natural life. I frown at myself.
What am I thinking? Live out my life here? In Midscape? Among fae and their magics? What place is there for a human like me? None.
Moreover, that would mean I’d have to live out my days in the same world as Davien. I’d have to watch him become king, watch him marry and sire heirs from afar. Or worse, as a lover relegated to the auxiliary corners of his life. No…a life back in the human world would be far better than that. In fact, being a world away from him might not be enough.
I emerge from my room and head downstairs. To my surprise, Hol, Shaye, Giles, and Oren are all clustered at the usual table. Maps are scattered between them, dotted with scraps of paper that look like memos exchanged by pigeon. They all look at me at once.
“Vena wanted you,” Oren says. “Davien is already there.”
I hesitate, picking up on a strange feeling in the air. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes. Go on.” Oren tries to give me a reassuring smile but there’s too much worry twinging his black eyes.
Dread fills me as I stand before Vena’s doors. I hesitate just a second, seeing if I can overhear any talking from within. But the doors are too thick. I give a knock.
“Enter,” Vena calls.
Sure enough, I find Vena and Davien within. But they’re not alone. The Butcher from before, Allor, is there as well. She leans against one of the walls to the side, arms folded.
“What’s happened?” I ask as they stare at me. My eyes lock with Davien’s. Worry twists his face, scrunching his brow. A terrible silence continues to tighten the muscles in my chest to the point that it hurts to breathe.
“Well if neither of y
ou are going to tell her, I’ll—” Allor starts.
“King Boltov is sending an army to Dreamsong.” Davien’s rumbling voice only makes the words more ominous.
“What?” I inhale sharply.
“Word has finally reached him that I’ve returned…and that you are with me.”
“Does he know of the magic?” I whisper.
“He knows everything.”
“There was a spy among us.” Vena curses. “He must have slipped through our wards at the beginning of the celebrations to deliver word.”
“What does this mean?” I had prepared myself all morning to face Davien, but not like this. While I was dancing last night, a king was plotting my death.
“It means the king knows you have the magic he needs to never be challenged again.” Allor wears a wicked smile when she speaks. “So he’s coming to kill you for it.”
And here I thought the worst of my problems today was facing Davien.
Chapter 22
“What do we do now?” I look between each of them.
“We’ve been working on a plan,” Davien says. His calmness is unexpectedly grating.
“I hope it’s a good one because I’ve no interest in dying.”
“I have no interest in seeing you die.” The muscles in his cheeks tense. “Besides, the king doesn’t care about you, he cares about the magic within you. The sooner we get the magic out, the sooner you’ll be safe.”
“Then I take it we’ve made progress on that front?” I look from Vena to Allor and back.
“We have an idea.”
I’d like something more secure sounding than “an idea” but if it’s the best we have right now… “Which is?”
“To the north of us, right at the edge of the mer folk’s borders, is the Lake of Anointing,” Vena says. “It is where all the old kings went before their coronation to bathe in the waters closest to the Ancestral Tree at the world’s edge. If there’s anything that’s going to connect you enough with the king’s power to pass it to Davien, it’s those waters.”