Page 9 of King

He muttered sweet things about my scent when he awoke and some other things I turned my ears off for. I guess he hopes my mother will understand what his thick brain isn’t getting.

I thought he was trying to scare me with his peaceful behavior last night, but I’m beginning to suspect something is seriously wrong with his mind. He’s honestly confused about why Iignored his touch in the night and why I’ve not risen for the day. Why I’d rather sleep my life away than face it by his side.

“She’s just worn out,” my mother replies gently. “Some fresh air will help.”

Mother is trying to appease him so he won’t become angry with me. But Iwanthim to know how miserable it is to be near him. He can’t think that because he’s forcing me to become his mate, I’ll just magically be thrilled about it.

“Fix it,” Bock orders her before striding out of the tent.

It takes a lot of effort, but my mother manages to pull me to my feet and drag me out of the tent. As my eyes adjust to the bright light, I’m surprised to see Bock waiting outside.

I bet he’s making sure Mother follows through with his orders. I don’t even spare him a glance as we pass. He grunts in annoyance and stomps off. I’m mercifully left in peace. Mother sets me down on a log outside the tent and covers me with a blanket. After settling in beside me, she begins to rub my shoulders.

“I’m fine,” I say, shaking her off.

“You’re not fine, Rue. You have to snap out of this. Durin will come.”

I huff and caress my belly, hoping my mood and unstable emotions aren’t passing through to Vaegon in any way.

“Oh, my sweet daughter,” my mother says, staying by my side despite my standoffish attitude. She wraps her arms around me and begins to rock. “Durin will always come for you. Don’t you see? He’s your scent match.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “Have you lost your mind? Fae don’t have fated mates. They don’t even take mates at all. They just fuck until they tire of each other and move on to the next.”

“It’s in the way you cling to that cloth like it’s your lifeline,” she whispers. “And the look he’s given you each time he has to leave, like he’s parting with his very soul. I've seen many pairingsin my life, but none have ever radiated the energy the two of you share when you're together. Call it a mother’s intuition, but I feel an overwhelming sense of relief and security when you're with him. Like my role of protecting you is almost complete. You’ll see,” she says warmly.

I can feel her smiling against my cheek. If only I could be half as delirious as she is right now.

“Whatever,” I mutter, deflating in her arms.

“Just promise me,” she whispers, “When he comes, go with him. Embrace the life fate has always intended for you. Leave me here to win the pack’s favor for him.”

I hate the idea of leaving my mother here if I were to escape. I doubt I’ll have to worry about that, though. Durin isn’t coming for me. Yeah, his scent is intoxicating. It stirs up cravings in me like I’ve never had. I’m helplessly addicted to it and fiercely protective of it. The washing cloth, still tucked securely against my breast, is proof of that. I’d kill anyone who dared try and take it from me.

But that’s not enough to make him mine. He’s had my heart since I woke up in his arms, even though I had every reason to hate him. Even while I fought my longing to forgive him, my heart belonged to him.

Yet he resisted me with ease. It doesn’t matter that it was for an honorable reason.

He’s not my scent match. Perhaps I was always destined to be his, but I don’t think he was ever meant to be mine.

***

Hours later, no one has come to retrieve me. I made my way to the ground and have been leaning back against the cold, stiff log. I’ve stared at nothing for so long that I’m not sure my eyes know how to focus anymore.

I wonder if Bock is trying to make me nervous by leavingme here. Or maybe he forgot about me. He’s clearly delusional. I have no fucking idea what he might be trying to prove by ignoring me.

It doesn’t matter. I don’t have the energy to do anything. This suits me just fine.

Eventually, some movement in the trees catches my eye. I drag my gaze to the side, annoyed at the effort that it takes. Two sprites flit gracefully around the trunk of a small tree. Their delicate wings shimmer in the sunlight, making it seem like the warmer seasons.

The male backs away and ventures higher into the air. He spins in a slow circle, then spreads his wings wide with each flap. The smaller female smiles up at his display of size and strength. She does a little spin of her own before reaching out to him.

He darts back down to join her, but she backs away. Her tiny hands trace her breasts and hips as she shows him what she has to offer.

He flits over and swiftly pulls her into his arms. Their wings work together to hold them in the air, somehow never tangling. They touch their noses together and whisper their sweet little tinkling sounds. She tickles his ears with her fingertips, making him grin. Then, she moves her hands to his chest, gliding them back and forth like the waves ebb and flow in the sea.

I used to watch this mating dance when I was young. I thought the sprites were just playing. It was cute to me. As I matured, I began to understand what their dance really was. Even so, I’ve found myself still drawn to the beauty of it.

But I can’t bear to watch them right now. They’re happy, and I’m miserable. Each movement reminds me of what I’ve lost. Their sweet, innocent joy is making me bitter.

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