Page 98 of Kiss the Filthiest King

My training with Caenan remains purely physical. That man loves making his queen sweat, and run, and fall on her regal ass. I do get better, but he holds back less, so it doesn’t feel like improvement.

As Loch told me it would, the castle is considerably quieter when I make my way to the hall where I hold court.

I'm getting used to this. Each day brings more visitors, who cleared their welcome with Loch. They're introduced to me, and I make a point of remembering names and ranks, keeping a journal with my first impression of each.

Most of the petitioners coming to me this evening want to ask for a place at court, and I accept all vows, ready to fill my empty halls.

Relva's helpful enough to organize their housing, showing the various courtiers to their quarters; the most trustworthy are closer to me, though no one but our little circle is on my floor.

There are no true seasons in the Hollow; it's summer by day, winter by night, with spring and autumn following their due course. It's hard to tell how many days pass, each feeling so constant. But I know that every morning, I wake with a growing sense of foreboding.

Things are calming down. There's a schedule of sorts. I sleep, and wake alone each twilight, my bed feeling oh so empty. Ryther makes a point of appearing in my hall to show his support most days, especially when an important unseelie shows up. On other days, it's Valdred by my side, returning from his tumultuous affairs in bones, where he's battling his father's supporters. I have to flirt, but at least there's no more suggestion of my having to fuck him to make a point. The very thought is all the more sickening now that Ryther's avoiding me.

But I'm stressing out every single day, expecting it to be the day he'll tell me he's leaving. I can't bear the thought of him being completely gone.

Each night, I don my human disguise and sneak out to the meadow, where I can finally breathe. I'm fairly certain my guards are aware, but the other courtiers don't pay me any mind when I'm no longer in my crown and vast selection of imposing dresses.

Ryther doesn't join me again, until one night, what could have been a week or a month after that day when he announced his intention to leave.

I know. Seeing him walk to me, I know what he'll say. He's going.

I don't make myself will it, but a glance at my own hair makes me realize it's switched back to blue. I'm glad; I'll remain formal and remote and not say a single word if I can help it. The last thing I need is to break down like a freaking clingy teen dumped by her boyfriend.

I usually do the dumping.

I suddenly feel quite guilty about the long list of men I've discarded without so much as a second thought, particularly those who begged for another chance. Did they feel like this? It's awful.

"Ryther," I say, glad my voice is neutral, if not as cheery as intended. "Found me, have you?"

"I seldom lose you." He smiles pleasantly, surprising me by offering me an old, small book.

I page through it, frowning. "I can read the marks, I think, but it's all so very…complicated."

"Quite," he says. "But don't worry, you won't need to read it all. Chapter seven, third page; there's note of a ritual. It's mentioned in a fair few other volumes, but never in detail. Here, it tells us all ingredients, the incantation, and the time of the year—the winter solstice, so around midnight in the Hollow."

"What ritual?" I ask, a little lost.

"Bond severing."

My heart sinks.

"To tell you the truth, I didn't truly believe it feasible. I've heard of mates rejecting their partners before completing a bond, but never of anyone breaking it after. But I kept looking; it seems possible, if rare. You can be free of me," he tells me, with a charming smile.

I want to punch something. No, I want to punchhim. And scream. And cry.

"So, this is how you've spent your time these past days?" I make myself say.

He nods eagerly. "Indeed. Since the day you said you wished to swap me out. Now you can."

"I nev—" I try to speak, but the words are locked in my throat.

It's a first for me. I've never actually attempted to say something, intending to enunciate all the words, and been blocked by…something.

"I," I repeat. My mind races, trying to find a way to say I absolutely did not ask for a swap of mate, and when I genuinely can't, I'm stunned into silence. "I said that?"

"You did." I can't read him. The only thing I know is that the casual tone is a front. He's purposely made all his expressions neutral; he only does that to hide.

"That's awful."

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