Page 8 of Of Skulls Of Shackles

He drawled a smile. “A glare from a queen. Will you stomp for me, maiden?” The couch creaked as he leaned forward. “Will you pout?”

I did not care to be labeled as a petulant queen. I had not anticipated its arrival, having never been petulant in humanity. King See was aware that I felt prickly on the subject of stomping and pouting.

I crossed my arms. “Did you receive my letter of demand, sir?”

He was grinning. “I did, and so I have come.”

And here was his mystery, for King See never visited me for a single reason, and never for the reason I expected, nor the reason he professed.

I sat on the far end of the same couch as King See. To sit in the armchair opposite seemed to convey a small fear of him and place us as adversaries. To sit on his lap was too much now that I could see all of him, and then there was the matter of heart breaking between us.

I steeled myself, then looked at him again.Milky eyes. Suffocating.“Sir, I am expecting princesses soon. We cannot deal in lessons of war today.”

Splayed. Seared.I fidgeted in my dress.

“Does your corset constrict your breathing, Perantiqua?”

I curled my hands to fists. “You know that the sight of you does this. Does my discomfort amuse you?”

“Amuse. Haunt. Madden.Inspire. You steal who I am, and so I am relieved to steal any part of you, including your breath.”

Yes, but why did he not fidget and freeze under my scrutiny?

The answer arrived. He had seen me always and had learned to hide the signs of all I inspired. Bother and drat, for I would have enjoyed seeing that cabaret.

My frustration drained away. I could hardly be annoyed at him for feeling the amusement that I would not hesitate to feel if our situations were reversed. “I understand you.”

“You do, and that makes you irresistible.” His power curled around my waist and lifted me.

King See floated me closer, and my heart erupted in a flurry.

We could physically touch now that my power had grown, but touching in the flesh had proven… important and meaningful. How ironic that we had not touched at all since becoming able to do so. I had rarely harbored reservations regarding the touch of his power. We had shared almost everythingthatway.

Therein resided the problem of our true touch—in the meaning. King See did not wish for meaning. Or he did, but not in a very large way, or just in fragments of meaning that did not add up. Or he did not want any meaning, unless… unless—well, I could not be certain what he wished for, other than that love wasnotwished for, but respect and trust and choice and acceptance were meaningful fragments.

Surely love was the glue of these fragments.

Goodness, the thinking of him hurt my mind fiercely. All I could say is that the idea of touching King See with my hands or lips felt painfully meaningful, so much so that we had not shared any touch since walking arm in arm to face four kings together.

Two weeks ago.

Two. Weeks.

I had not gone without pleasure from King See for more than a week at a time. I was a queen with needs—no wonder I shook and rattled so tonight. He was usually better about tending to them. Not for my sake entirely, but to help curb the madness of his obsession to break my heart. If he did not do so, then madness liked to whisper envious ideas of my daylight activities with other kings.

King See lowered me onto his lap. I could not speak. I could not breathe. We looked at each other, and I could feel the roundness of my eyes and the midnight flush of my skins.

Our hearts synced to thump in tandem, and there was a mystery in that phenomenon that transcended our ancient ability to connect the why and how of so many things.

I moistened my lips. “Tell me true, See. Does your obsession to break my heart remain the same?”

His milky gaze dropped to watch the small show of me wetting my lips. “My obsession remains the same, Perantiqua. I am but a claiming king still.”

Then I could consider his visit as an act to crack my heart a little more. Would I drink the poison? I could not always say from one night to the next.

King See lowered his sights, then lifted his enormous chalky hand. I was the puppet of ancients and nothing more, so I lifted my hand to set it against his as though a string connected my limbs to the sky.

Palm to palm.

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