Page 33 of The Crowned Fae Queen
“Don’t you even try to kick me.” He holds up one finger.
“You know, sometimes the arrogant asshole that drug me kicking and screaming—”
“You were unconscious.” Iri interjects with a raised brow.
“Sometimes,” I say louder, “the arrogant asshole that drug mekicking and screamingfrom my tiny island comes through. And I don’t fucking like it.”
“Are you sure?” Iri hums, tracing his finger over the curve of my cheekbone and down my neck to the deep vee of my plunging neckline.
“Fuck you, Bear.” I sneer, staring defiantly up into his caramel gaze.
“If only we had the time.” The soft press of his lips against my cheek sends a fiery surge of want down to my core, the feeling tugging on our mental bond from either end.
“I think you like to be challenged.” I grab his fingers, bending them backwards from his palm.
Iri only laughs, sending a short glance down the deserted hallway. “As if you don’t.”
Slowly, I release my grip and suck my teeth, avoiding his heated attention. Iri brushes my hair behind my ear with a sigh.
“I guess we will see who wins this one,” I mumble as I begin my walk down the hall.
“Where are you going?” he calls after me.
“Shouldn’t you know, mind reader?”
I only ask out of courtesy.In my mind, I can see him wink even though he is paces behind me.Enjoy your fresh air in the garden.
The corridors don’t feel nearly as empty now. Guards wait at every turn and at intervals in between. More guards than I’ve ever seen within the castle walls. It is like I have my freedom, no looming group of protectors following me around. Just enough to have an eye on me from every odd angle.
Brilliant sunlight warms my skin as the doors open for me, more waiting guards. The kiss of warmth reminds me of Iri’s kisses pressed to every uncovered inch of my body. I smile and trace my hands over a silky purple petal.
Sometimes I’m thankful the guards can’t read my dirty thoughts. What would they think of the princess,cough cough queen,parading around the gardens thinking of smut?
I half-expected Iri to chime in with a quip of his own. Some line slathered in sexual intent about how he loves to listen to my nasty thoughts or how he loves to hear me purr. But he doesn’t. He remains quiet, though I know he is there. I know he is listening.
Cold air hits my lungs. It smells like earth and the sweet aroma of the flowers. I open my eyes wider, trying to take in the colors of greenery from under the thin layer of snow. Crystalized droplets hang from the roses where the sun has melted the snow, and the cold has frozen it once again. The wet of it calls to me. Snow clumps into a ball as I gather some in my palms.
Clustered ice turns to dust which turns to liquid in the cup of my hands. I let my hands go, magic turning the liquid to steam. It warms my face as it passes up to the clouds.
Iri’s promise to end the assassin’s life almost felt like a threat, or even a warning. Iri is who he is, and he does what he does. I could see the effort he put forth to be a better man and to keep me accountable. For Goddess’s sake, the man gave me an out just the other night to keep me from killing a child.
Yet I think some things are too much to ask of him. Not punishing the person who tried to kill me being one of them. I see his side, I really do, but if I am going to be the saving grace of his people, I will be it for all of them, not just the few.
I’d start with the girl.
Whispers caught on the wind catch my attention. I pull up at my gown, thankful for the soft earth that quiets my steps. Tall green hedges mark the end of the garden. A vacant spot with the fresh imprint of boots in the mud marks the spot where a guard would normally stand.
As quietly, as I can manage, I weave through the garden. Voices grow nearer but not louder. Harsh whispers becoming clearer with the closing distance. Green leaves and prickly cold snow tickle at my ear as I press myself into the bush.
“You are foolish for coming here!” A man’s voice curses.
“I know these men. I know what they want, how they want it, and who can be blackmailed into looking the other way. I justneedto see him. Just a glimpse. I can’t get him out of my head.” A female voice. An all-too-familiar voice. “I can taste his kisses on my lips like yesterday. And I know if I could just have a moment with him, he would feel the same way.” The voice is pleading, desperate, and filled with longing.
“You’re delusional. He would kill you in an instant. I hope, for your sake, you’re at least seeking asylum with the church.”
“Will I get to see him? Alone?”
The rest of her question didn’t quite make it to my ears. Not as I dart to the edge of the hedges and throw myself at the woman.
