Page 49 of The Crimson Princess
“He abused her.”
“He’smy father, Toren. I know you hate him, but he’smy father.”
“I’m speaking the truth and you know it, and you’re his next victim, if you allow it to happen, and that is not what your mother would want.”
“What do you know of what my mother would want?”
“I know that she was terrified at the idea of him finding out you’re part vampire. She feared for your safety. Are you going to let him drive you to the druid’s bed?”
“Why? Because you want me in yours?” It’s out before I can pull it back.
“Yes, Satima. I want you in mine.” There is possessive heat to his tone. “And if that druid touches you—”
One of the frostburns snarls and Toren draws in a breath. “Someone is coming.”
I sense it,too.
Magic.
He lifts me off the tree and his thumb rubs intimately over my lips, the tingle of magic in his touch telling me he’s swiped away the blood. “You okay?”
Emotions wells in my throat at the gentle question, stirring emotions I don’t dare allow myself to name, or I might lose it and have an ugly cry.I’m not okayisn’t an answer worthy of the warrior and future queen my mother groomed me to become. “I’m fine.”
His hands come down on my arms and he lowers his head, his breath as warm as an afternoon beam of sunshine on my neck, as he murmurs, “You’re not okay, but you will be. It takes time.” He eases back to meet my stare. “And you carry yourself, even now, filled with grief, like the future queen that you are.”
My throat is thick, emotion welling in my chest with his understanding of how out of sorts I am right now, and I’m far too moved by his compliment to be as cautious as I should be with Toren. I think I might say something to that effect, but as the words find my tongue, Toren steps to my side, facing the clearing, and the frostburns do the same, but they remain silent, lacking any sign of aggression. The gale that appears in our sights is as familiar as a Ravengale sunrise, and as welcome as a new day after a night hunting werewolves, and I’m instantly smiling. Raven is not the timid girl my mother saved on Challenge Day anymore. She’s twenty-five now, two years past her maturity, a tiny thing with wild, curly red hair, and there’s an easy confidence in the way she wears her battle leathers, in how she moves.
“Satima!” Her gaze goes wide at the sight of me and she takes a step toward me but halts at the sight of the frostburns, her fingers closing around the blade at her hip. “What is this? Are they imprisoning you?”
“No,” I laugh. “Long story, but they’re with me now. They’re no threat, at least not to you.” As if they understand her fondness for me and me for her, the frostburns lay down, resting their heads on the ground before them.
She watches them a moment, as if not wholly sold on the idea of safety with them present, before her gaze snaps upward. Onlythen, does her attention shift to Toren, her lips parting in shock. “You’re the vampire king.” As if the words register warning, she reaches for the blade sheathed at her leg.
I hold up my hand. “No. He means you no harm.”
“Does he meanyouharm?”
“I would never hurt Princess Satima,” Toren replies, and her gaze shifts from him back to me for confirmation.
“It’s true,” I say. “He’s here in peace, a guest of my father’s for the Challenge. King Toren sought me out to tell me a story about my mother that he knew was of consequence to me and my future throne. And it is. It was something I needed desperately to hear right now.”
Her fingers slide away from the hilt of her blade. “Your mother was an amazing woman and queen. She was gone too soon.”
“She was my best friend,” I say softly. “And Toren sharing stories of his encounters with her means the world to me. But not everyone would understand this the way you do. For this reason, I very much need this encounter to remain between the three of us.”
“I would never betray you, princess. That would be a betrayal of our years of friendship and equally to the sacrifice your mother made for me. If you want this between us, it’s between us.”
I sense the truth in her words and relief washes over me, but the reference to my mother’s sacrifice is not gentle. “Thank you, Raven.”
“Princess Satima,” Toren injects, a departure in his tone, that has me rotating to face him, as he adds, “please know I’m at yourserviceshould you need me.”
“Thank you, King Toren, for everything you have said and done today.” The implications of my statements are many and intimate, but for his understanding alone.
“My pleasure, I assure you.” His lips, those seductive lips of his, curve slightly telling me he is pleased with my response before he’s gone.
“What an incredible spectacle of any version of a male,” Raven murmurs.
I turn back to her, and don’t risk exposing what is between myself and Toren by commenting, “I need you to know what I was thinking of you this morning when I stopped by the arena.”
