Page 9 of Kiss the Filthiest King

Lots and lots of wine.

"And I resent ‘sea whore.’ I don't restrict my whoring to under the waves--you may call me the unseelie whore."

I make a mental note: she's smarter than she appears. I'll try to look past the fact that she wears the face of a savage murdering bitch who owes me a pound of flesh.

"That is helpful," I admit, trying not to sound begrudging.

I suppose that for once, I'm not alone. I don't have to be the only one thinking, planning, plotting. Once we reach the queen's quarters, I press a thumb to the door, and wince as the hungry metal pricks my skin, opening at its taste of my blood.

"All these deflections worked because it's dawn," I say, sidestepping to let them into the room.

It's not dusty. No spider has dared make her way into the elegant room, still lit by candlelight, and smelling of flowers.

I wave and the queen's doors lock themselves back up behind us.

"And everyone's already drunk, or exhausted. By the next sunset, they'll have a plan. Any idea what to do if they aren't back by then?"

"Why didn't you take this palace before?" Relva muses. "It truly does recognize you as its owner."

My jaw tightened."I gave my word."

She's completely baffled as to why anyone would give away that much power, I suppose. Caenan seems just as intrigued.

I sigh. "How were you raised?"

Relva frowns. "Sorry?"

"As a child. You're a bloody princess. I'm guessing there were mermaid nurses or something else."

"Yes, I had a few maids, nurses, tutors."

"You?" I check with Caenan.

He shrugs. "A human wet nurse, for a time. Then mostly tutors, or my brothers."

I nod, having expected as much. "Yes, well, I was raised in a swamp, with my mother, the queen and then no one. She fed me from her own breasts, sang me to sleep, and taught me things from the moment she pushed me out to the day I turned seven."

They all seem shocked, either by the swamp, or the simple fact that the former high queen could lower herself so much as to actually nurse a child herself. No doubt they think her a loving mother now.

"And do you know what she ensured my first words would be?"

They exchange glances.

"‘I swear.’ For a whole year, I swore to many things—everything she ever asked. Long before I understood those words. And I was given songs of my sister's rule, stories as to why my sacrifice would be noble. And I swore, and I swore, and I swore again. I was bound more thoroughly than any prisoner in shackles by the time I could piss in a pot."

"But then—" Caenan clears his throat. "By the cruel gods, how don't youhateDarina, after all that?"

I could tell them I did. I could tell them I've never hated anyone or anything as much as the unknown older sister who would have everything as I faded to shadow and bones, forgotten. Not even my mother did I hate as much as that child I never knew. I could tell them when I sought her out, when I traced my own blood to find her stone, I intended to do my utmost to find a way to carve it up, destroy it before it could crush me.

I could tell them I cried the first time I saw her because it was a baby, cursed and seven times cursed, not the monster I conjured in my mind. I could tell them I would have destroyed her still, if one or another or my many vows hadn't prevented me to.

I've never been a person, just a tool of the former high queen, meant to mold the next.

And then Darina brought that damnable blade to her own chest, and freed me with her last breath.

I ceased hating her the moment she started to show me what it is to be loved. Unconditionally. Illogically. Recklessly.

"Because I'm a better person than you," I retort with a haughty snort. "Now, at sunset. Any ideas?"

---