Page 66 of The Witch Queen

I think about her more than I want to admit. She haunts my dreams, those heart-shaped lips trailing down my body, full breasts cupped in my hands, reddish hair creating a cage around my face as she rides me. Her body is so different from what I’m used to. The fae, especially females, are lithe and willowy, bodies drawing a straight line. Small breasts, small ass. But Laurel—those curves. I’m tantalized by her cleavage and her round backside. Seeing her immediately ignites my blood, and my eyes find her in any room. Even when I don’t have her in my line of sight, Ifeelher, keenly aware of her presence like a sixth sense. When she smiles, the world stops around me, and when she laughs, bright and melodic, I cease breathing.

If I’m being honest with myself, the energy that pulses between us makes me uneasy. I don’t know how to be the kind of male she deserves. And, aethers, she deserves so much. Everything that’s been taken from her, everything that she’s had to endure forso long—all at the hands of my own aethers-damned father—is incomprehensible. She should be with someone smart and capable, who can rule at her side and share her burden. I can’t be that for her. I’ve only played pretend at spy, pulling together a small network of allies in Velmara who’ve achieved little.I couldn’t even stop my own father from secreting away the entire country’s supply of thayar flowers.I’m not worthy of her, and she was right to shut down pursuing anything between us. There’s too much history, too much baggage, for us to be anything more than allies.

And yet, when I’m with her, all of that shame and loathing and worry disappears. I get too caught up in poking at her, trying to see which comments or grins make her laugh, or shiver, or open up. It takes so much energy to keep my hands off her, and I fail more often than not. But I’m still trying to respect her reasons for not wanting to act on this attraction, reasons that the rational part of my brain agrees with, even if other parts of me don’t.

Attraction.I laugh out loud. What courses between us is so much more than attraction, so much more than lust. There are many beautiful females in Velmara, all eager to catch the attention of the Shining Prince. None have ever set me onfirethe way Laurel does, like I’m a light burning brighter and brighter the longer I spend in her presence. I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t enjoy flirting my way through most situations, but what I do with Laurel is so much more than flirting. My magic becomes easier around her, too, something about her nearness allowing me to tap into the aether with a stronger and deeper connection.

A soft thud on the small balcony outside my room startles me. Looking over, two bright yellow orbs stare back at me.Laurel’s cat.When I open the door for the feline, she stalks inside. I stay frozen, unsure what to do about the enormous, wild animal in my room. Her sleek body pads toward me, sniffing first my feet, then my legs, then my stomach. My heart beats quickly in my chest, and I regret opening the door for her. She rubs her head against my palm, and on instinct I scratch it. Yellow eyes close in satisfaction, so I increase the pressure. Sitting down on the foot of my bed, I run both hands down her body.

“You’re just a regular house cat, aren’t you?” She responds by purring loudly and jumping onto my bed to lay her head in my lap. I continue scratching her, as I’m not sure what else to do, and I certainly don’t want to anger what is one of the most terrifying beasts I’ve ever encountered. We sit like that for several more minutes. With no warning, the cat stands up, stretches, and jumps through the open door. She’s disappeared before I can even stand. I chuckle as I shut the door behind her. Cats are all the same, no matter the size.

That night, after my usual inappropriate dreams of Laurel, I dream of an old fae female. She stares at me with haunted yellow eyes, and is saying something to me, but I can’t understand her. She has long black hair that reaches past her waist, and sharp nails that resemble claws. I get the sense that she’s desperate to tell me something, but I can never hear her or speak back to her. When I wake in the morning, the image of her distraught expression lingers.

“Are you almost ready?” Silene asks as she pops her head into my bedroom. I straighten my tunic, push my hair back from my face, and turn to Silene, whose shit-eating grin gives me pause.

“What?” I ask, cheeks heating for no reason. Absolutely no reason at all.

“Nothing. You’re just taking a lot of time with your appearance for a day of hard work cleaning up the merchant district. I wonder why.” She delivers the last line in a sing-song voice before she skips away. Rolling my eyes, I follow her out of the room.

“She’s right, brother. You’ve got it bad for Laurel,” Fionn remarks with a smirk.

“I do not!” I snap, but that only causes Silene and Fionn to trade a look and burst into laughter. I storm past them and walk out the doors of the apartment. Once I’m in the hallway, I yell back at them. “Let’s go! These buildings aren’t going to clean up themselves.”

We make the trek down into Arberly and to the destroyed merchant district. Now that Abscission is over, Fionn committed all three of us to help with efforts to clean up and repair the destruction from the rebel attack. Not that I mind. Fionn converses with several fae and humans who are in charge of the cleanup. They direct us farther into the district, to a stretch that was completely destroyed and needs to be fully cleared away before rebuilding. We immediately get to work, Fionn hauling giant beams of metal away with his magic while Silene follows behind him to blow away any remaining debris. I stick to physical labor, picking up what I can and carrying it to the giant burn pile that’s carefully maintained.

After several hours of back-breaking work, we’ve cleared our stretch enough for me to wash it down with water. I focus on the aether pulsing strongly around me, and it helps me find the dozens of barrels of water placed throughout the district for this purpose. A tidal wave crashes down over the area, washing away dirt and debris.

“Impressive,” a familiar feminine voice says from behind me. Turning, my eyes instantly find Laurel, surprisingly clad in a modest purple gown. Though I can’t say I dislike the scandalous dresses she likes to wear when she’s playing a scary witch, I like this look on her too.

“I’m glad you’ve finally realized I’m impressive,” I quip back with a wink. She rolls her eyes.

“I’m going to the school today to speak with the students there. I thought you might like to come with me. There are still a few light channelers who would love a few tips from you.” Her open expression makes my heart flip.

“Lead the way,” I say with a grin before yelling back to Fionn and Silene about where I’m going.

The school mirrors the palace in that it’s also built into the side of a cliff, with training platforms carved out along the ridge. Margery, the advisor I recognize as the Minister of Education, greets us at the front doors before leading us to a massive meeting room where hundreds of students have gathered, eager looks on their faces. When Laurel enters, there’s a shuffling as students and teachers stand to bow, but she waves them off.

“Please welcome Her Majesty Queen Laurel,” Margery says and begins clapping, giving the audience an alternative to bowing. Laurel’s cheeks blush. I love seeing this side of her—the shy and reluctant leader who cares deeply for those she serves.

“Thank you,” Laurel says to quiet the applause. “I’m also joined today by a special guest, His Highness Prince Hawthorne of Velmara.” Awkward applause and murmuring breaks out, the students unsure what to make of my presence. “Prince Hawthorne, would you give the students a demonstration of your light magic?” There’s mischief in her eyes. I nod, and the room erupts in blinding light as several awes sound throughout the room. I bring the light into small orbs that whizz around the room, playfully dancing around the students. Then the light rushes forward toward me and collects in a massive long sword that I swing around my body. The applause that breaks out this time is fervent, and Laurel’s eyes sparkle with a plan well executed. I give her my own appreciative grin. “Thank you, Prince Hawthorne,” she says. “As you can see, the Prince has a very rare and unique power. He’ll be taking those of you with light channeling abilities for a private lesson later. But first, what questions do you have for me or Prince Hawthorne?”

Dozens of hands raise, and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face. The students are eager to learn and clearly adore their Queen. Laurel fields their questions expertly, turning a few over to me. Most are some version of how we learned to use our magic, what our training looks like, or how they can learn to make swords with their magic.

“Is it true that you have an affinity for every conduit?” a very young student asks Laurel, awe in her eyes. Laurel stiffens for the tiniest fraction of a moment, so quick few would catch it. Rather than answering the question, she quickly displays magic using all conduits. Water streams through the air, sliced by a metal dagger she pulled from her waist. Plants crawl through the windows, illuminated by orbs of light. She finishes the demonstration with a gentle breeze of air. The students applaud, eyes wide in fascination and bodies moving with uncontainable energy from their excitement.

It’s a smart way to evade the question.

“One last question,” a beaming Laurel tells the group, and she calls on a student no older than ten in the front row.

“Now that Prince Hawthorne is here and things are better with Velmara, does that mean the mist will come down?” The student asks the question innocently, clear enthusiasm written across her features. But Laurel visibly tenses, her entire body on alert, and several of the teachers exchange worried glances with one another. Margery steps in, clearly trying to avoid what seems to be a tense and politically charged topic. It’s the rebels’ most prevalent point of contention with Laurel.

“I think we’re actually out of time—” Margery says to smooth over the situation.

“It’s okay,” Laurel says to stop Margery, voice quiet. Her gaze lands on the student, who now looks fearful at the reaction of the adults in the room. Laurel smiles kindly and walks to kneel in front of the small fae girl. She takes the child’s hands in hers, speaking to the room loud enough for all to hear but never breaking eye contact with the girl. “I would love nothing more than to bring the mist down for Thayaria. But we must be careful. Prince Hawthorne is my friend, but I still don’t trust the rulers of the other kingdoms. I hope that someday Prince Hawthorne and I will open up Thayaria’s borders together.”

Something in my chest flips when she says we’re friends, but it’s quickly replaced by the weight of her next words.I hope that someday Prince Hawthorne and I will open up Thayaria’s borders together.I sense the trueness of that statement. It’s a promise and a prophecy spoken by lips I think about too frequently.

Laurel stands, and the room stays eerily quiet. “Thank you for having me today,” she says, and they applaud softly. Margery takes over, directing the students back to their classes and asking the light channelers to stay. Laurel inches closer to me, and my body reacts instantly. I close the space between us, our arms grazing as we survey the room. For a brief moment, our hands even brush. “Thanks for coming today,” she says softly, leaning closer to me.

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