Page 29 of The Midnight King

He keeps coming, huffing ragged breaths, maintaining his aim so every drop goes in my mouth. I have to tip my head back to take it all. When he’s done, I close my lips and swallow it down, like a delicious mouthful of runny icing.

Immediately the pain in my foot recedes, and a sense of peace and freshness flows over my body. “That’s quite the trick,” I tell him with reluctant admiration.

He’s buttoning his pants and smiling at me when we both hear the wheels of the carriage on the drive.

“The work begins again,” I say with a sigh.

“At least you won’t be limping,” he replies. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He bends down and plants a quick kiss on my forehead. Then he walks into thin air and vanishes.

When I unfasten the bandage around my foot, the wound is gone.

10

The screaming starts the moment my step-family enters the house. Vashli and Amisa are both hysterical, both drunk, and both hoarse from shrieking at each other, which they’ve probably been doing since they set foot in the carriage for the ride home.

From what I can discern, soon after I left Amisa with the Prince, Vashli moved in and ensnared him, monopolizing his attention skillfully for two hours before he excused himself to dance with other ladies. Amisa is distraught over the loss of the time she felt she was owed with him, while Vashli is both triumphant at her success and upset that the Prince didn’t spend the whole night with her.

My stepmother says very little to them or to me. “Bring me a glass of whiskey,” she orders me in an undertone. “I have a headache, and I’m going to bed.”

I follow her orders, then return downstairs and stand quietly in the hall while my stepsisters bawl threats at each other. I was given no command to help them prepare for bed, so when the fight escalates to them throwing vases and shoes at each other, I head downstairs to the cellar. Hopefully they won’t kill eachother, but if they do, so be it. Either way, I’ll have a mess to clean up tomorrow, and I need my sleep.

The one good thing about the fight is that I wasn’t questioned about how I spent the evening, and no one seemed to notice the fluffy robe I was wearing, which I forgot to swap for one of my usual well-worn garments.

All of them sleep until noon the next morning, which is a delight for me. I ponder cleaning up the mess in the hallway myself, and then I have a rather brilliant idea. A certain Faerie owes me a favor, so I muster a tear and smooth it over the face of my pocket watch.

The Faerie appears in the cellar, and this time I spot how he does it—walking out of a sheet of shimmering air, a barely visible portal. He glances around, then covers his mouth and coughs lightly. “You sleep down here?”

“Yes,” I reply, feeling a little self-conscious about the grimy, dusty state of the place. I try to keep it tidy, but there’s only so much one can do with a coal cellar. “I need a favor. There’s a mess upstairs, lots of broken things, and I know you can fix it all with magic. But you can’t be seen, so I want you to glamour yourself to look like me and go clean it up.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Glamour myself to look like you?”

“Exactly. And if anyone comes downstairs while you’re cleaning up, act as if you’re cleaning it normally, not with magic. Can you sound like me, too?”

“I can alter my voice, yes.”

“Perfect. Get on with it, then.”

He taps his lips, which have fully healed. “Can I fondle my own breasts while I’m glamoured in your form?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“No, it’s not. Go.” I push him toward the cellar stairs.

“And where will you be while I’m doing your work?”

“Taking a nap.”

“Very well,” he drawls, with mock reluctance. “I suppose I’ll do this for you. But after that I must go. I have places to be, important things to accomplish.”

I hesitate, my hands still pressed to his back. “Do you have other humans you’re helping?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

“So it’s just me?”

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