Page 72 of The King's Maiden

And while I fought back against his abrupt and slightly domineering behavior, it was mostly on principle. Definitely not because I hated it. Every conversation we had felt like this weird, supercharged kind of foreplay as he battled for order, and I fought to create chaos. My body responded to him as if being pulled by gravity, the way the tide changed under the force of the moon.

I’d never experienced anything like it, and it was throwing me for a loop. Especially knowing the rules of The Quest allowed him to boss me around at the threat of punishment, he could’ve tried to use my desire to win—and his final say over whether that happened or not—against me. But he didn’t.

Like I said, confusing as fuck.

I pushed up from my seat in the kitchen. “I need to get some air.”

He turned from the stove, his eyes following as I stood and walked to the door. I could practically hear the wheels turning as he processed this abrupt change.

“You don’t know where you’re going.”

He was right, of course. But I wasn’t going to confirm that. The last thing I needed when I already felt on edge was another round of verbal foreplay.

“I’ll figure it out.” I waved a hand at him as I walked out of the kitchen.

The door swung shut behind me, leaving me alone in an empty corridor. I leaned against the wall and took a breath. Getting lost in the house seemed like a nice alternative to staring at Landon’s ass while he cooked me food, only because the latter made me want to provoke him by ripping off my clothes in the middle of the communal kitchen.

“…eliminated…can’t…rid of her…”

Muffled voices came from farther down the hallway. And like one of those girls in a scary movie who walked toward the dark room where the killer obviously lurked—instead of running in the opposite fucking direction—I crept closer.

“—make it through to the next round. If she doesn’t, the more risk we have this won’t play out in our favor.”

My eyebrows shot up, and I ducked behind a giant suit of armor when it was Max who responded.

“I’m well aware of the stakes, Father.”

The other voice, so similar to his son’s, I now recognized as Merle. “Overconfidence is foolish, Max.”

“You didn’t see what I saw.”

“So you keep saying. But he’s not convinced it’s enough. The plan is?—”

“The plans changed the second she stepped through the door. I can promise you that.”

“You’d better be right.”

“I am.”

A beat of silence passed between them, and it occurred to me that they could be preparing to leave the room throughthe doorway where I stood—very clearly eavesdropping on their private conversation.

I panicked, jolting back to turn and run away before they caught me, but in my haste, my foot caught on the giant suit of armor.

It crashed to the ground, taking me with it.

I shrieked and let out a stream of curses as I fell.

The heavy pieces of the gilded Knight buried me as it toppled from its perch, and I took each blow with a grunt of pain before clawing my way out of the wreckage. Shoving the chest plate off my body, I stared up at the ceiling and wondered how the hell I got here.

A second later, footsteps rushed over.

“Well, what do we have here?”

At first glance, Merle Dread was as tall and formidable as his son, and it had nothing to do with the way he stood over me. Max had inherited his build from his father, that much was obvious. But the older of the two Dreads had graying hair and crow’s feet around his light brown eyes, as well as a smile on his face. I had to blink a few times to make sure I was seeing him clearly.

Meanwhile, the younger Dread stared down at me with no emotion on his face—barely even a hint of recognition. Max’s eyes must’ve come from his mother, but I wondered if they held the same indifference as his onyx gaze.

With his arms crossed over a chest I refused to think about, he stood like a soldier at his father’s side.

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