Page 35 of His Dark Delights
A new servant snuck into the room. Soren and Rhydan didn’t spare the young man a second glance as he went about pouring crystalline glasses full of pale red wine.
“Thank you,” I breathed quietly when the servant leaned over to fill my glass.
His head whipped to the side, eyes wide as if he’d misheard me. I smiled, ensuring he saw my gratitude. Red crept into his cheeks and the shell of his ears.
A giggle slipped from me.
His Majesty gratingly cleared his throat, then snarled, “That’s enough.” He snapped his fingers, and the young man shot upright. A second later, he scampered off with the king’s glare hot on his tail.
Soren pressed his knee into mine under the table. An unseen but very palpable claim, and a warning.You are mine.
“How did the council meeting go?” Rhydan slipped into conversation. He spun the stem of his glass between his fingers, eyes on the king.
Soren slumped back in his seat and idly sniffed. “At every turn, the damned council and Cecily turn down my efforts. They say I should leave the fighting to the soldiers and the war is disrupting the political climate of our kingdom. Either they’ve forgotten where I came from or they’re purposely pretending.”
“Maybe they’re trying to keep their king out of harm’s way. You only returned two weeks ago on the mend from near fatal injuries. Your last crusade almost killed you, after all.” The knight abruptly gestured to me, and I bit down on a squeak. “You’re only alive, thanks to her.”
Soren’s darkened eyes flicked to me and immediately softened. “I know that. I owe her my life,” he vented, speaking to his friend.
“Aye, and perhaps you should act like it,” Rhydan gritted out, boldly showing his distaste at my circumstances and how the king, his friend, had treated me thus far.
I met the knight’s gaze, sending him a silent thank you. In the corner of my vision, I didn’t miss Soren’s fist curling on the edge of the table. It felt good to have someone in my corner, like someone had finally thrown me a life raft in the choppy waters I tread. Support I couldn’t fully rely on, but I’d breathe easier among the sharks with my head above the waves.
“Watch how you speak to me. I could have your head for that,” Soren grumbled.
“This is what I get for the council putting a bastard on the throne,” Rhydan retorted.
They stared off at one another for what felt like ages. Long enough that I held my breath and became dizzy from the effort. When I thought they’d lunge over the table at one another, they threw their heads back instead, barking with laughter that shattered the tension.
Soren chuckled, wiping fake tears from his eyes. “I hold Lilly here in such high regard for what she’s done. As a matter of fact, I’ll even let her sit in a place of honor.” He turned his attention on me, then patted his lap. “Come here, Lilliana.”
Like a gods-damned puppet on a string, I rose to my feet. Internally, I caterwauled like a deranged wildcat in the woods. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied stoutly.
To the best of my ability, I sashayed the short distance toward the king. His dazzling gaze seared my skin as he savored the sway of my hips and the way my dress hugged my curves. His smile was utterly predatory, and it provoked a line of desire that squirmed through my belly.
“A vision of beauty deserves her own throne, but this will suffice for now.” He curled his arm around my waist as I slid into his lap. The table was high enough for both of us, and the tablecloth hid our legs.
I tried to remember my newfound purpose—to please the king, pretend I loved him, and sway him from the war. However, an indecent impulse settled at the apex of my thighs the moment I sat down. With the heat of his leg pressed against me and his chest flush with my spine, I completely forgot where I was.
Until the doors swung open, and the servants followed a woman with a poised, commanding aura. She was tall and rail-thin with a bedazzled crown oflavender hair piled on her head like a beehive. Her face was powdered and wrinkled with decades of life but held a striking nobility to it. A painted mole near her lips stressed the vibrant red staining her thinned, stressed mouth.
“Grand Duchess Cecily, wonderful to see you again.” Rhydan rose from his seat. He slid a hand over his heart while bowing his head respectfully.
“Knight,” the Grand Duchess briefly acknowledged him. Her marble cane thunked noisily on the floor and her voluptuous lavender skirts swished as she walked.
Her sharp, shrewd eyes drifted to the head of the table. She got an eyeful of me in Soren’s lap, quickly appraising me as if she could tear me open and dig around, assessing everything she needed to know about me within seconds.
My muscles tensed, preparing to stand and offer her respect as Rhydan had. But Soren’s arm tightened around my waist, caging me in place on his lap. I choked on a yelp, and my face burned with red-hot embarrassment.
Grand Duchess Cecily sneered, peeling her lip back as if she smelled something unsavory. “Is this the trollop who saved you, Soren?” she scoffed. “No better than your father. Bedding every available hole in the capital. At least he had the decency not to bring them into the palace.”
I didn’t mind her insults in all honesty. Worse would be if they learned of my heritage. In that case, everyone in the room might have a few choice insults waiting up their sleeves that they’d be delighted to hurl at me.
Better to be called a trollop than to be butchered.
A storm of fury tensed the frame holding me. Frommy position on the king’s lap, I saw the side of his face. An agitated muscle flexed in his jaw before he replied coolly, “I remind you again to hold your tongue.”
The Grand Duchess settled into the offered seat on Soren’s right, and the servant scampered away after pushing it in. She curled her silk-gloved hands over the carved deer’s head of her cane, nose scrunched up as she huffed, “There’s probably another Carnifex bastard hiding somewhere out there. You die and the council would simply go scrounge up another one.”
