Page 100 of The Witch Queen

“I’m regretting telling you it’s my birthday, witchling. Accepting the mating bond is—it will be the best gift you ever give me.” I hug her tightly, trying to calm the whirling anxiety I know races through her veins. She relaxes into me and calm settles over her. I release her, then take her hand and lead her into the nearly destroyed sitting room to look for breakfast, famished after our all-night workout. “Thank the aether there’s a breakfast tray here,” I say as I grab a slice of sweet bread and stuff it in my mouth. She examines the destroyed room—plants creeping in from the windows, bookshelves destroyed, all the curtain rods on the ground. I spot the moment she realizes servants came into this room to deliver breakfast. Her cheeks blush deeply.

“We, uh, we really made a mess last night,” she says. I only wink at her with a satisfied smirk. She rolls her eyes, then snaps her fingers and the room returns to the pristine condition it was in last night. “I wish I had thought of that last night,” she murmurs, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me.

I start to make her a cup of tea, realizing as I pour the water that it’s tepid. “Tea’s gone cold.” She grins, and suddenly the water in the kettle is steaming again. “I could get used to this limitless power of yours,” I tell her, then pour cream into the steaming mug before handing it to her.

“How do you takeyourtea? You’re always making mine. I’ve never noticed what you make for yourself.”

“Hate the stuff. I think it tastes like burned water.” She nearly spits out the tea she just took a drink of in her laughter.

“First, you don’t get why chocolate cake is the best food ever, and now you don’t like tea? How can you possibly be my mate?” she teases.

“More for you,” I growl, and I can see her body tense with need at the throaty noise. I scoop her up again, unable to keep my hands from her, breakfast forgotten as we find new ways to learn one another’s bodies.

Nemesia

While mates are said to be random, at the discretion of the gods or fate, certain pairings appear to be part of the very fabric of our world.Thayarian rulers often find themselves with a Velmaran mate, specifically a powerful light channeler, and often the strongest light channeler alive during their rule.None know why fate favors these matches so frequently, and neither the Andomer nor the Elestren lines have ever offered their own explanations for the phenomenon.

The Traditions of the Fae

“Can we havedinneragain tonight?” Genevieve asks me suggestively after lunch as I settle back in for a long afternoon of research. Even though I love her office, I try to spend some of my time out in the archives so people don’t grow suspicious of where I am. Her eyes are bright with mischief and lust, and it stirs my own desire. She’s proven to be an excellent lover, despite her lack of experience. Teaching her new things has been more exhilarating than I expected. There’s an urgency to her need, like she feels she needs to experience everything before it slips away from her.

“I’d like that,” I say with a knowing smile, and she blushes. “I have a few more texts to show you, as I’d like your opinion on their meaning,” I add loudly to protect our cover of researcher and librarian, though I’m not sure anyone cares what Genevieve does with her time. She’s as forgotten as the books deep in the archives detailing royal coin balances throughout the centuries.

“Yes, I would be happy toassistyou,” she says, the innuendo clear, and my thighs turn slick. Genevieve walks away, hips swishing in her gown. I stare at her ass until she turns the corner.

Brushing aside images of what I want to do to her tonight, I return to the text I’ve been reading all morning,The Secrets and Stories of Velmara. The section where Genevieve found the information about Mazus’s line—the Vicants—forcibly taking the throne from the Andomers has proven most illuminating. Not only did the Andomers rule Velmara, but they have their own prophecies about a prince who will bring light in the darkness, uniting peoples or realms, depending on which oral history is being detailed. It could be an iteration on the prophecy of the Thayarian Queen, derived from the same stories but branching at some point in history for different peoples. But they’re notquitesimilar enough to make that likely.

The Andomer line is strong, and this prophesied prince is supposed to be the strongest among them. I can’t help but draw connections to Prince Hawthorne, who’s rumored to be the strongest light channeler at least in living memory. Laurel has never given much credit to the prophecy so many believe is about her, so I’ve rarely studied it, not wanting to poke a still-sore wound. But if Hawthorne is the Prince of Andomer in the prophecy, and Laurel is the Queen of the Thayarian prophecy, then the two of them are surely connected in some way. I told Laurel I suspected Mazus wanted her and Prince Hawthorne to meet, and these revelations only heighten that suspicion.

I’m pondering the possibility that the prophecies about Laurel and Prince Hawthorne are connected when a servant arrives with a roll of parchment, sealed with Mazus’s signet. Sighing, I take the missive from her and open it. Mazus has requested my presence in three evening’s time for another dinner and has apparently already dispatched servants with my attire for the affair, indicating this is not a request but a summons. Not that I had any delusions otherwise.

I return to my research, frustrated that I’m beholden to the King’s whims, but with a renewed sense of urgency, hoping to find something useful by the time we meet. I return to translatingThe Traditions of the Fae. It’s been slow work, and I’ve had to take breaks from it to maintain my sanity. I’ve been working on the section on fae religion, but after reading more about Prince Hawthorne’s potential significance in Andomer lore, I decide to return to the passages on mates, a question percolating in the back of my mind.

This book is the closest I’ve come to a primary source, detailing the traditions, customs, and stories of the fae at the time it was written. I have no idea how old it is, though it must be ancient to discuss mates as if they exist. I slowly comb my way through a history of prominent mated pairs, unsure if the names are significant. Feeling like this is unproductive, I skip ahead through the six pages of recorded names. If there arethismany recorded names, mates cannot have only ever been myth. But why they’ve disappeared from our world is still a mystery. The old fae character for Thayaria catches my attention, and I stop to translate the passage that mentions my kingdom.

I double and then triple check my work, heart racing. According to the passage, Thayarian rulers once frequently found themselves with a Velmaran mate. Specifically, with a powerful light channeler, from the Andomer line, as a mate. The pieces are slowly coming together, and they paint a troubling picture.

Laurel and Prince Hawthorne must be mates. And while that would normally bring me joy at the thought of my best friend—my sister—finding the great love she’s always been promised, the fact that Mazus gave me these books means he must also know. He intentionally sent the Prince there for them to discover their connection, though for what end, I cannot say. And while the stories about Prince Hawthorne paint him as a powerful but unintelligent flirt, what if he knows and is working with Mazus? He’s thesonof the Golden King, after all.

Laurel is in danger.That thought echoes nonstop through my mind as I continue my frantic translation. I don’t know how much time passes, only that I must keep going, for Laurel’s sake. I startle out of my research haze when Genevieve approaches my workstation.

“Nemesia,” she says, eyes smiling. “You’ve surely lost track of time. I haven’t seen you take a break all afternoon.”

The fact that she’s been observing me doesn’t go unnoticed, but I’m too frazzled by my discoveries to comment on it. I consider canceling our dinner plans in order to continue the research but decide against it when I see the excitement written so clearly across her features. It physically pains me to leave the research behind, but Genevieve has become a priority for me. She’s had so few give her any attention or care her entire life. I won’t break her heart.

“It was a productive day for me,” I admit, though that’s as close as I can come to the truth of what I’ve discovered, what I fear. “I’m grateful you pulled me out of my studies, as I might have been here all night if not for you. And I’m still eager to discuss the earlier matter with you over dinner this evening.” Meaning fills my eyes, and I love the way she drops her eyes to the ground as she blushes.

Once I’ve packed up, we walk side by side to my room, hands brushing but not daring to clasp together. Dinner is forgotten the moment we close the door behind us, clothes and undergarments hitting the floor in a frenzy. Genevieve has grown bolder these last weeks, and she pushes my naked body onto the bed, spreading my legs wide as she brings her mouth to the apex of my thighs. Normally I’m a very giving lover, preferring to take care of my partner before myself, but I know Genevieve craves the ability to be bold, to be in control, so I let her do whatever she wants. I moan as her soft lips bring me to climax, and as soon as my pleasure finishes its crest, I grab her body and push her to the mattress. She makes the sweetest breathy whimpers when she comes, and now is no different.

“Nemesia,” she groans when I pull my mouth from between her legs, and I wrap her up in my arms and press a kiss to her temple. We lay there naked in my bed, trailing soft touches over one another’s bodies as we discuss our days. “What did you discover today?” she asks, and I know she’s genuine in her curiosity about my research. I hesitate, worried revealing the information about Laurel and the Prince might put her in danger.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” I start slowly. “For your own protection. What I found, what I suspect, could expose you to danger.” Even this admission is a risk, but if I’m honest with myself, I want to tell her, want to share this burden. Her soft brown eyes study mine, expression firm and decided.

“I want to know anyway.” I start to protest, but she holds up her hand to silence me. “I know you’re here looking for something important. And I know that even if you and His Majesty pretend at cordiality, there’s still tension between you and between Velmara and Thayaria. What is it that could be so dangerous?” I’m about to refuse, to tell her the risk is too great, when she surprises me. “I’ve also discovered something that may be dangerous, in the book you lent me from His Majesty’s collection.”

“Tell me,” I command, all General in my voice. But Genevieve only smiles, unaffected by my imposing tone.

“You first,” she whispers, rubbing a circle around my exposed nipple. I drop my head back at the sensation and close my eyes, loving the way her soft skin feels on mine.

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