by Ann Denton
Declan shrugged. “Now, Quinn has theories about other deformities. Scars, diseases. He gave the most detailed description out about blue waffle disease.”
A whore’s affliction!
My hand flew to my mouth in horror. “That’s a lie!”
Declan turned back to his papers, as if dismissing me. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” He grabbed a letter opener and sliced open a missive. He acted as if our conversation meant nothing. As if the years of speculation about me were of little importance.
I rubbed my brow as servants brought in the tub and filled it. It gave me time to think. These men hated me. Tried to explain my departure by way of disease. Treated me as a joke. I’d tried to give them the best chance at life. And I was a joke to them. My mind hardened. Connor. It had to be him. He knew all. Or as much as I could write about with the geas blocking me. He must have instigated this hatred against me.
My face turned to stone as the last of the steaming water was poured into the tub. If he hated me, then fine. There was little I could do. I’d known when I’d left that it was a possibility.
I ignored the full body ache and the hole that opened in my chest at the thought. I would not be some heartsick fool. I’d done what was best for him. If he’d torn up my letters and hardened his heart, that was his choice. But to mock me with the others? Encourage them to think such awful things? That was beyond the pale.
I stripped off my dress and ignored Declan’s speculative gaze on my pale skin; his eyes lingered on the freckles on my arms from the summer I’d spent in the fields, the soft curves of my breasts, and the dull red of my nipples. I stepped into the water, facing him, letting him look his fill. “You see? No cocks. No disease. No extra limbs.”
I circled slowly in the tub so he could see the back as well, letting water slosh onto his stone floor. When I turned forward to stare at him, I think he gulped. “I’m clean. Not quite virginal. But not the monster you’d hoped.” I ground my teeth together as I said that last bit.
I sank into the heated water and pretended Declan wasn’t there, that his eyes weren’t riveted to my body.
I leaned my head back against the side of the copper tub and sighed. I let the heat sink into my bones and wash away my fear for Avia and the disbelief my stupid husbands had about the threat against her. How could I convince them to help? I had no idea. I pulled up my emotions one by one: my anger at my mother, my husbands’ anger at me, my frustration, the desperate trapped feeling of being back in the palace … I pulled each emotion up and then let it go, like the swirls of steam from my tub, disappearing into the air. Emotions wouldn’t help me solve the problems I had.
Queens used strategy. Not emotion.
I’d save my sister and give her the crown, break this curse tying me to four men who clearly hated me, and leave again. I’d figure out how after I’d enjoyed the first hot bath I’d had in four long years.
It must have been an hour later when I looked up from the water. My fingers had shriveled into prunes and I was delighted by that fact. Begrudgingly, I cleaned my skin, refusing to call a maid in. I washed my hair and my face. But my back was a struggle.
I heard Declan muttering as he poured over a giant ledger. “Sixty-two and one-hundred-four. Nine-thousand… that can’t be right. I’ll need to send the auditor.” He made a note in a hand-sized notebook next to the ledger. He reached up and ran a hand through his blond hair, straightening it for the eightieth time. “They should try barley next year … rest the wheat field …” his muttering as he worked was equal parts endearing and annoying. I’d forgotten that about him. When I’d known him, half his muttering had been in Sedarish. And, being a self-conscious teenage girl, I’d thought he’d been muttering about me.
“Have you always talked to yourself?” I asked as I used the sponge to reach the middle of my back. Of course, this made me arch forward.
Declan turned toward me and his eyes immediately fell to my chest. I raised an eyebrow but he didn’t move his eyes away. “It helped me practice the language. Now, it keeps things clear.”
“What province are you looking at?”
“Ranwalf. Reviewing a request from Duke Aiden. He’s scheduled for a visit …” he went back to muttering under his breath at the ledger.
“Is he behind on payment?”
“Why the interest?”
“I happened to run into Quinn and Duke Aiden together. The duke’s rather fond of pissing away his tenant’s hard-earned gold.”
Declan muttered something about women and their gossip.
“Excuse me?” I leaned toward him.
“He cheat on his wife? He or any in his husband group?”
“Daily.”
Declan waved the quill at me. “There you have it. He scorned his wife, so she’ll ruin him for other women by saying he can’t manage his funds. Common tactic. See it at court all the time.”
“His wife’s too busy raising her sixth son to be bothered with his whoring,” I countered. “I’ve seen him lose thousands.”
“Well, Ranwalf province must have thousands to give then. Because they’re paid up on taxes. He’s coming for a visit to discuss crop rotation.”
I scrunched my nose. “Deadly boring.”
“Unless you realize that wheat goes for five times the rate of barley. He wants a second year of the wheat crop. His weather is fantastic for it.” A tinge of the nerdy scholar came into Declan’s voice as he spoke.
I bit down on my lip to avoid calling him ‘adorable’ and end up scorned and silenced.
He continued, “With the right calculations and application of power, I could do it—”
“What?”
“Magnify their minerals. The trick would be where I could take a reduction—”
He turned back to his calculations and a stream of mutters poured forth. I pondered his words for a bit. My mother hadn’t only chosen Declan for his brain. His fae heritage gave him the unique ability to multiply things. He could turn one chocolate cake into one hundred, as he’d done on my seventeenth birthday, before he’d learned I hated chocolate. I’d wanted a vanilla cake, but Declan’s power came at a price. Whatever he multiplied, he had to choose something else to divide. That year, he’d chosen vanilla.
“What would you divide?” I played with the sponge, floating it over the surface of the water.
“I was thinking quartz. I’ll need to research the implications. But …” Declan trailed off as he bent under his desk to grab a book from a stack I hadn’t noticed previously. Bending over gave me quite the view for a moment. I think he might have realized it, for he popped up quickly and bumped his head on the edge of the desk.
I grinned leaned against the tub, “You know, back when we had lessons together, I always thought you were cursing me during arithmetic.”
“If I’d known what a cunt you’d turn out to be, I would have,” Declan turned to grin at me. But it was a bitter grin.
It soured the endearing effect his embarrassment had on me.
I snapped back, “Well, you were supposed to be the genius. You should have figured I’d leave. Guess my mother’s impression of your intelligence was wrong.” I wink at him as I raise a leg to wash my foot.
“Yes. I should have refused appointment to your husband group.”
“Appointment? You mean honor.”
“I mean appointment. I wasn’t given much choice.”
“Makes two of us.”
“Is that why you left?”
“I left so I could find a wizard to get rid of my … cock,” the geas almost tied my tongue and that was the best I could get out. I punched the side of the tub.
“Is that so? Because Quinn put money on that one as well.”
I threw the sponge at Declan. Unfortunately, the bastard ducked. The sponge splatted against the window and Declan grabbed it and tossed it back at my head before it could do much damage to his precious papers.
He shook his head at me, looking like a disappointed school tea
cher. “You’re an idiot. You expect me to believe that you actually returned to help your sister, when you can’t even take that basic question seriously?”
“You expect me to take men seriously when they’ve wagered gold on my body parts?”
“You’re impossible.” Declan turned back to his desk.
And for some reason I panicked. It felt symbolic, his turning his back. Like a door was closing, an opportunity flitting away. I felt a sudden, urgent need to win his trust and get his help. If anyone could figure out the geas, and my reasons for leaving, it would be him.
“Wait.”
He turned back and raised his eyebrows. Our eye contact became intense. A staring contest as I willed him to take me seriously. “I’m complex. I’m a riddle you need to solve.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t say.”
He rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to be that way—”
“No.” I stood, rivulets of water flowing down my body, dripping from my fingertips.
Declan seemed to leave his seat without thought, also standing. His gaze traveled over my body.
“I mean, I can’t say.”
His blue eyes narrowed in thought and focused back on my face. “Is this a word play?”
“No.” But his sentence sparked excitement. “I mean, there are words I cannot say. Important words.”
We shared a long moment, weighing one another. I wasn’t sure if he believed me. I tried to wait until he nodded or gave some acknowledgment. Some sign of trust. But a chill crept over my body and shivers set in, and still, he said nothing.
“They forgot a robe and towels,” I noted, as my teeth chattered.
“I’ll ring for them,” Declan took a few steps toward the bell pull before my knee slammed into the edge of the tub, yanked by the curse. He was too far away.
“Stop!” I climbed out of the tub and limped over to him, a stream forming on the floor beneath me and running down the cracks in the floor. I rubbed my knee and moaned.
Our eyes met and Declan’s eyes almost looked playful. Like he was holding back a laugh.
“You think this curse is funny?”
“It’s a spell.”
“It’s a curse. My mother wants us to hate one another.”
Declan’s brow arched.
“More. She wants us to hate each other more. She never wants us to have a moment’s peace.”
The amusement faded from Declan’s face. “I think we’ve already got the hatred figured out.”
“Sard you. Just give me your shirt for a towel.”
“What?” he balked.
I took a step closer and put my hand on his arm. “Give me your shirt.”
Heat flashed in his eyes for a moment. And then it was gone.
“No,” his words made me second guess what I’d seen.
But my instincts screamed that I was right. My mind flashed back to the look Declan had when Ryan gave him an order in the hall. There’d been tension there. Sexual tension? I decided to test it. “Declan McCarthy, you give me that shirt right now, or so help me—”
“You’ll what?” his whisper was breathy. Yeah. Some part of him liked it when I bossed him around.
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you willing to find out?”
“Yes.”
“Stand still and face that wall,” I growled.
To my surprise, he did.
I stalked around him as if I were going to his bed to grab a sheet. But as soon as I was behind his back I grabbed my long hair and pulled it forward over my shoulder. I leaned toward him, putting my hair as close to his back as I could without touching. Then I twisted. A waterfall erupted from my hair and drenched Declan’s backside.
“Ah!” he jumped.
I didn’t give him a chance to retaliate. Bastard wouldn’t give a lady his clothes? Well, then his clothes would get ruined.
I tackled Declan to the ground and sat on his back. Then I rubbed my sopping body over him like a cat. I pressed my chest to his back and ran it up and down. I ran my legs over his pants. When he reached his arms back to grab me, I balked.
“Don’t you dare touch. Put your hands here.” I tossed his hands straight out on either side of him and scooted up to straddle his torso. I leaned into his back and pressed his palms to the floor. “Stay.”
Declan complied, out of shock or arousal, or maybe both. I got my front side dry, but my back was still drenched from my hair.
I decided to press the point.
“Turn over, Declan.” I sat back on my knees so he could.
When he did, his face was flush. His eyes were dilated. His breathing was rapid and shallow. “Now, you can give me your shirt, or you can—”
“Sard you,” he breathed.
“I didn’t offer that as an option.”
He didn’t laugh. Neither did I. I stared down at his ice blue eyes. I noticed the tiny frown line between his brows that he got from reading his ledgers and muttering at them day after day. My fingers went to smooth it down of their own accord before I caught myself.
I’m teaching him a lesson, I had to remind myself. Feeling the heat of his body underneath me made it hard to remember that.
Declan’s eyes roamed my body and I decided to see just how far I could push him.
I grabbed Declan’s right hand. I turned his palm so it faced away from me, so he couldn’t cop a feel. Then I dragged his arm down my back slowly. I rubbed his forearm everywhere. I grabbed his left arm and did the same for my legs, dragging his arm up my calves and over my thighs, along the ridge of my ass.
And as parts of my body grew drier, other parts grew wetter, particularly when I felt his bulge pressing against the crack of my ass. I hadn’t had a man’s hands on me, caressing me, in so long. Declan didn’t speak, but he was panting by the time I was done.
I leaned forward as if I was going to kiss him. But I simply patted his cheek with a wicked grin. I stood, looming over him, letting him see my most intimate part. “Fine. Forget the shirt. I’ll air dry the rest. But I warned you.” I stepped back.
“You did,” he propped himself up on his elbow. He didn’t look like he minded being freezing and wet at all. In fact, he gave ample attention to my chest, indicating he didn’t mind me being freezing and wet either.
“You are supposed to be the gentleman of this group.”
“Gentlemen are only polite to ladies,” he sat up and shrugged, pulling off his soaked shirt and wringing it out.
“We’ve established I don’t have a cock,” I argued as I tried very hard not to stare at the dark blond happy trail leading south. Declan most definitely had a cock. One that was at full mast.
“But we haven’t established that you’re a lady.”
“Then what the hell am I?”
“A puzzle. A riddle I need to solve.”
My eyes met his. A buzz filled my stomach. Like bees had invaded. Or was it butterflies?
“Put the shirt on and I’ll ring for some new clothes.” He tossed his shirt to me.
As I pulled it over my head, I asked, “So, um, does this mean that you believe me? About coming here to help Avia?”
Declan pulled the rope and leaned against the wall, watching as I struggled to straighten out his soaked shirt and cover up important bits.
“No. I don’t believe you at all.”
I spun toward him, aghast. “But—”
“I think you have an ulterior motive. And I’m gonna find out what that is.”
Chapter Six
Declan resumed work and didn’t speak to me or look my way as maids dressed me and did my hair until I was mother’s perfect doll again. My hair was curled in ringlets. My eyes were lined in kohl. Emeralds glittered at my neck and a plunging neckline showed off my modest cleavage to its best advantage. My billowing, hunter green skirt was lined with lace made by the pixies in Cheryn. I picked at the padded, long sleeves of my dress. Even more than the circlet in my skin, the sleeves felt like cuffs. They reminded me of
every day I’d spent with my mother, in training to take up my place as monarch.
I rubbed my arms and stared out Declan’s window. After his declaration, we’d come to an unspoken agreement: ignore one another.
He didn’t trust me? Fine. Forget understanding the geas. Forget my curse. That wasn’t important anyway. I didn’t need him to know me to accomplish my goals. But I had no idea how I was going to achieve any of them. I wish my mother had cursed me to be within five feet of my sister at all times instead. Then I could protect her.
When Ryan arrived to “hand off the prisoner,” I’d almost been relieved.
Until he had led me to the outdoor practice arena, where his soldiers used wooden swords to hack at one another.
“You haven’t finished this for the day?” I sighed. It was late.
Ryan glared down at me. “Those of us who actually do our jobs, instead of run from them, have a lot of work each day.”
I bit my lip. So this was it. I was to be dragged from job to job with each ‘husband’ until I died a slow death from hatred and boredom.
“May I—”
“No.”
“You didn’t even hear what I—”
“Didn’t need to. Your job is to provide water.”
“Water carrier? Surely you have a servant—”
“Surely you can do this simple task?” Ryan cut me off and hauled me, far too easily, over to a giant barrel of water. Nearby stood pewter tankards. Ryan dropped me into the dirt and yelled toward two of his fighters. They came closer and he started correcting their form.
“Elbow up and out,” he pulled a squire’s arm until he was satisfied with the angle. With a nod, his two fighters continued their practice bout. He leaned against the wooden fence separating the fighters from the crowd and I forced myself to keep my eyes on the soldiers, and not the tight fit of leather pants on Ryan’s ass.
“Think you could be a little gentler? He only looked fourteen,” I scolded.
“Sixteen. And he’s about to be sent on patrols. He needs it.”