Page 39 of Lady of the Lake

“Are we bargaining now?”

“Well, I am a princess. And I remember you once saying something like, ‘I do whatever the fuck I want, love, and when I die someday, I will have no regrets. It’s the privilege of being me.’”I lower my voice into his deep tone.

His lips curve into a wicked smirk that makes my heart skip. “If you’re going to do an impression of me, at least make it accurate. You forgot the part where I’m alluring enough to make your pulse race.”

“So, what doIget for the privilege of being me?”

“What would you like, Princess?”

“I want the power to pardon someone from execution. You said that when you were pulled from the dungeons, it was into hell. But we’ve all heard the rumors—that you went on a murder spree, slaughtering everyone the moment you were free. How do I know you won’t do the same again?”

His eyes narrow. “Oh, I very well might. But don’t worry, Princess. I’m selectively sadistic. If I decide to throw a torture party, it will be only for the most exclusive guests.”

“Are you telling meno?”I sigh. “I’m afraid my powers might not be working as well today.”

His voice drops to a husky murmur. “I don’t do mercy. But for you, Nia? Maybe I’ll consider it. If you askverynicely, in just the right way.”

His deep voice goes right down to my core, and I pull my gaze from him.

“Fine.” The palace is up ahead now—a castle of gleaming white spires against the brilliant blue sky. It’s almost blinding. There are no walls around this palace, just an oak-lined path leading up to the front entrance.

“Anything else I should know in this place?” I ask.

“I will have a reputation to maintain while we’re there. I can’t raise suspicions by acting unusual.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

A half smile that reminds me—much to my dismay—that this man’s mouth is absolute perfection. “The atmosphere in there—it won’t be the country way that you’re used to, nor the palace’s formality and royal restraint. Beyond the castle walls?” His eyes glitter with a sinful allure. “They know what I truly am—a man who lives without limits. Do you understand? An arm around your shoulder, a chaste kiss—it won’t be enough for a voracious libertine prince with his new bride.”

I lick my lips, trying to ignore how much the deep timbre of his voice sends heat racing over my skin.

CHAPTER 18

The air is thick with a heady perfume when we step inside. A servant peels my cloak away, and in that moment, I feel it—the aphrodisiac already weaving its spell through my blood.

Looking around, I realize that any rumors that Aeden hosts dull parties are wildly inaccurate. This is a debauchery-soaked banquet of pure indulgence, with a heated pool in the center. Beautiful, naked Fey writhe in the water, kissing and stroking each other in languid rhythms. Warm, humid air caresses my skin through my sheer gown.

I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and blink. I look stunningly Fey. My hair is pulled back in a jeweled brooch, and my body is visible through the sheer dress, another masterpiece by Jasper. Seemingly transparent yet cleverly designed, the gown is complete with the pockets I requested.

As someone hands me a glass of mead, I try to ignore that all eyes are on me, the new princess. My gaze slides over a room of lush pillows and hidden alcoves, of half-nude Fey entwined with each other.

The stiff formality of the palace dinners hadn’t prepared me for this.

“That’s Lord Aedan,” Talan says in a low voice. His hand lightly brushes mine as he motions toward a large table on the far side of the pool.

Holding a goblet of mead, Aedan surveys the room with a satisfied smile. A young woman sits at his side, her pale, narrowed gaze fixed directly on me. Her black hair cascades over her sheer golden gown. She’s gorgeous, and based on her spiteful expression, she hates me.

“Who’s she?” I ask Talan.

“That’s Eithne, his daughter. She was my lover for a while. Another one Auberon hoped I might marry because she’s nearly as rich as Arwenna.”

She grips a carving knife so hard, her knuckles have turned white, and her lips curl as she watches me.

“I have a feeling she’s not over you,” I whisper.

His laugh is a soft caress. “She’s ancient history.”

Something catches his attention, and his gaze darkens, a cold thrum of magic pulsing off his body. “Ah. Lumos is here. And he’s looking at you.” A sharp edge slices the velvety timbre of his voice.

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