Page 82 of Malicent
The silence is immediate. Iris and Kalix both freeze.
I can’t help it; I burst out laughing.
“You see, Oliver, when a woman is aroused, she—”
“Shut up!” Iris yells, glaring at me. “We are not having sex! Never have! Never will!”
She pushes Kalix back down the hall, forcing him to walk in reverse. He shoots me a shit-eating grin—that devil—and waves at me over her shoulder.
“Be back in a few hours!”
“A few hours?” she mutters.
“Come now, Rainbow,” he says, voice low and rough. “I like to savor you.”
Then he grabs the backs of her thighs and hauls her into his arms. She laughs, wrapping her arms around him as he carries her off.
The hollowness returns; it’s subtle but sharp. I stare after them until a tug at my dress draws my gaze downward.
Oliver clambers up my side and settles on my shoulder, curling in like he belongs there.
“Me Misses, don’t be sad,” he says gently. “She will survive, even if she is small and he is massive.”
I snort. “That’s not why I’m sad, and I’m not even sure I’m sad.”
“Me Misses, I feel what you do. You are left wanting—alone—but I am here now. Never alone. Remember?”
He rubs his cool, slick cheek against mine like a naked cat trying to comfort its owner. Heat radiates deep in my chest, along with a slight pressure as he works to ground me through our bond.
I fall quiet.
I can’t lie to Ollie. He can’t lie to me.
I just lie to myself all the time.
I wish that Arcadia were here to guide and anchor me.
Restlessness rises again in the absence of distraction. So, I begin walking the halls, Oliver talking my ear off as he perches on my shoulder.
He’s thrilled by everything we pass. His joy is infectious. Slowly—quietly—my spirit lifts as I give him a tour of the palace, pointing out every strange or wonderful thing I think he’ll love.
Chapter 22
Millicent
AS THE SUN VANISHES AND the moon takes its place, Oliver tires of the tour and disappears, retreating to whatever hellish domain he crawled out of this time.
On my way back to my room—hoping to relax and maybe read—I catch sight of Felix climbing through one of the windows, his dark sage-green cloak billowing behind him. The king of the South is truly climbing through a window in his own palace in a disguise. I stroll over toward the struggled huffs, a smirk pulling at my lips.
“Sneaking out again?” I can’t help but laugh as I watch him drunkenly haul himself through the opening. There’s a door just a few paces down. I can’t deny that watching him use the window is exceedingly entertaining.
He lifts his eyes from the floor to meet mine. “Ah, Millicent! Just got some fresh air,” he lies, words slurring.
“Was the air made of wine or mead?” I snort, grabbing his hands to help tug him through. “Gods, you’re heavier than you look.”
“It’s rude to mention a lady's weight,” he grunts, wriggling through the window. “Now pull! Put your back into it!”
I heave, digging my heels in for some leverage, “Felix, there’s a damn door right down the hall!”
