Page 30 of Of Blood & Bone: The Young Queen

“Easy there, Queen,” he says in a low voice to the top of my head. “We don't want to lose you, I have to confess I actually find myself becoming quite fond of you.”

I'm so shocked at his words my head jerks up involuntarily to look at him. I find him smiling down at me with a warmth in his eyes I haven't seen before. Then he bends his head and to my utter amazement, kisses me.

His lips are warm and firm and they move gently at first, as if he is giving me time to become accustomed to them. Then he applies more pressure and pulls me closer and I feel a deep hunger well up within me, a hunger for his kiss and for him. I respond in kind and open my mouth, inviting him in. He doesn’t hesitate and plunders the recesses of my mouth with his tongue, setting off a symphony of desire that resonates throughout my whole body. Within seconds my breasts are tingling and a fluid heat burns through my abdomen as it makes its way to between my legs.

I never imagined a kiss could feel like this, as it quite literally steals my breath away. The prince continues to ravage my mouth, demanding and insistent, searching for a response from me, and I am more than happy to oblige. I press against him and twine my fingers through his hair, pulling him closer and joining my tongue with his, telling him in the most basic way possible, I want more.

One of his hands comes around and skims over my breast and I flinch in surprise, unaccustomed as I am to being touched there. However, just as quickly my breast blooms with molten heat, begging for more of his touch, but it’s too late, he ends the kiss and pulls away.

I hold onto him as my head is spinning and I fear if I let go I shall fall to the ground. He smiles down at me. “I think you and I shall go well together, Queen,” he whispers, as he kisses the topof my head and pulls out my seat. “But for now I think you need to sit down.”

I do as he bids me and have just settled into my chair when the serving girls enter the chamber to clear away the food. The Master Of The Table follows and serves the brandy, which I gladly partake of as soon as he places my glass back on the table. I sigh inwardly as I feel the dark amber liquid burning its way down my throat and a warmth settling in my tummy. It quickly radiates outwards through the rest of my body, and I feel the slight tremble in my core start to ease.

I glance over at the prince and find him grinning at me. He lifts his glass in a silent toast and I tentatively lift mine in response. He seems pleased and I feel another type of warmth move through me. One I am wholly unfamiliar with. The serving girls return with the dessert, an apple and blackberry pie served with cream of the Golden Vale, the richest and most sumptuous cream in all the realms.

The Master Of The Table deposits two huge portions on our plates along with a large dollop of cream and then takes his leave.

“Your staff are most discreet,” the prince observes.

“They have been instructed to be so this evening as I wished to make your acquaintance a little better,” I reply, “and I also wished for us to be able to speak freely.”

He chuckles. “Well I’d say you’ve been successful on both counts.”

I give him a small smile. “Agreed.”

He places a combination of pie and cream into his mouth and a look of pure pleasure lights up his handsome features as a slight moan escapes his lips. The sound causes a corresponding throb deep in my abdomen and an image from my dream, of the warrior feasting upon me, flashes through my mind. I feel mycheeks redden and I grab my brandy and take a generous slug of it.

He looks at me and raises his left eyebrow. “Are you all right, Queen?” he asks. “You have become quite flushed.”

I focus my attention on my dessert, unable to look him in the eye. “I'm fine, thank you. It's just been a long day and I am somewhat fatigued.”

“Ah, yes, I imagine you had quite a number of people wishing to meet with you after your... ahem... illness. Then we shall finish our desserts, consume our brandy, and retire to our chambers. However, there is one matter which I need to clear up before I take my leave of you this night.”

“Pray tell, what matter is that?” I ask.

“Many stories abound regarding the taking of the seed, that is, the harvesting process, which I have heard it called, but what exactly is the truth?”

“The truth is far less entertaining than some of the stories it seems you’ve heard,” I reply and can’t help the glint of humor in my eye. “There is no crone in a cape, unless you consider Myreena as such?”

He looks horrified at the suggestion and shakes his head. “She may have passed her halfway mark in life, but I definitely wouldn't consider her crone material. In fact, she may be mature in years but she is most comely.”

I smile at his matter of fact assessment of Myreena’s physical appeal and then continue to inform him of the harvesting process. “The part about the beautiful maidens, however, is true, but they don't come in the night. Instead, they arrive to your chamber at dawn where they perform the harvesting ritual upon you. This results in the production of your seed which is placed in a bowl and kept safely under guard. At the ceremony the bowl is handed to a healer, such as Myreena. She tests it with the herb pennyweed to see if it is good or not. Ifgood, the contents of the bowl will turn a bright blue, but if not, they turn grey or black, the latter meaning the seed has never been good.”

He finishes the last piece of his pie and washes it down with the remainder of his brandy. “And the high Lords of Ardvalla willingly put themselves through this process?” he asks.

I nod. “Yes, the prospect of becoming king is far too enticing a possibility for them to consider not participating.”

“And how do you propose for me to partake of this process if my presence here as the prince of Ellerban is to remain a secret?”

“I intend for the process to take place in the privacy of your chamber, and we will know the results immediately. Once your seed is proven to be good we can reveal your true identity and announce our betrothal, which will be short in duration, and we shall be married by the next new moon. Assuming, of course, all this is acceptable to you.”

He doesn't reply and instead refills his glass. He sets his chair away from the table at an angle that permits him to look into the fire, all the while sipping on his drink.

I await his reply, but none is forthcoming as he continues to stare into the flames in silence. His broad shoulders fill the chair and his eyes seem far away as he cradles the crystal glass in his strong hands. The combination of his sheer masculinity and unnerving silence proves unsettling to me, and my heart starts to race as a flutter of desire intermingled with panic rises to my throat. What if his seed proves good but he refuses to become my king? He agreed to accompany me to Ardvalla, but he never actually agreed to my plan. Is he thinking about leaving? If so, can I force him to stay?

“Prince?” I say quietly, prompting him to respond.

He looks at me and gives me a strange smile. “As per usual, Queen, you've got everything figured out.” He rises fromhis seat and bends over me, placing the tip of his forefinger under my chin. He applies gentle pressure, pushing my head back until my face is looking up into his. I feel vulnerable and exposed but instinctively know I have nothing to fear from him. Nothing, that is, except the possible loss of my heart.

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