Page 74 of Golden Queen
I turned to her and had a moment of regret to realize that she was truly afraid of him. That only made me angrier at this man who had no right to threaten her in my home.
I faced the prelate, whose entire head had turned red. "I would not marry something as pompous, self-righteous, and frankly, malodorous as you, even if your kingdom wasnota festering sore of iniquity. Even if all other men, women, and even all of the pigs, had fallen off the face of the earth."
The prelate's face contorted. I had to admit to a dart of unease as he seemed to be contemplating striking me. The fist at his side even rose a little, as though he would.
But ultimately, he was not stupid. "You vile, hateful little harpy," he said, low and menacing.
I smiled bigger. "You ugly, weak-minded little pile of dog shit."
A laugh interrupted whatever the prelate was about to say in response. A very welcome laugh that turned that bit of unease inside me upside down, sending warmth darting through me.
The prelate whirled, seeing the Lord of Darkwatch standing in the gallery, his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the wall.
I wondered how long he had been listening, and some self-condoning streak in me hoped it was the entire time.
"Your...Highness," the prelate stammered.
"If I was you, Kellan," Io said, pushing off the wall, "I would not linger long with my back turned to Aelia of Windemere after spouting that kind of nonsense to a queen. She has been known to carry sharp knives." He winked at me over the Prelate’s head.
My heart literally swelled in my chest at his words. I smiled my appreciation. He returned it with a grin of his own, eyes dancing with mischief.
The Prelate bowed to Io and then turned to me. He seemed to be considering bowing again, but his last shred of dignity must have won out because he whirled and stomped away, his too-short arms pumping at his sides as he strode down the long gallery.
I was halfway across the chamber by the time the doors closed behind him.
When I met Io, I fairly leapt into his arms. He caught me, laughing as I pressed my lips to his.
"Aelia!" Tatana hissed reproachfully, darting down the long hallway to guard the doors in case anyone else had the idea of following us into the gallery.
Not for the first time, I knew I had Tatana to thank for looking out for my reputation during my more reckless misadventures.
I couldn't help it as he turned, guiding me to the side, around the corner where the long gallery opened onto the central room where Albiyn's finest art was showcased. I simply couldn't keep my hands off him.
He seemed just as willing as me to lose himself in the moment as he pressed me against the wall, holding his hips against mine as he kissed me back.
"Seeing you stand up to Kellan Vijohn was the highlight of my year, Sera."
I laughed. "Standing up to that slimy weasel might be the highlight of my life," I admitted.
He looked dubious. "I very much doubt that."
Whatever else he might have said was lost in my lips pressed against his again, and my fingers roaming to his waistband.
"Here?" he asked skeptically.
"Here," I agreed, fumbling with the clasp on his breeches.
He surveyed the room.
"There's only one door," I whispered.
He looked down at me again. "Did you plan this, you wicked thing?"
I tried not to smile. "Not a plan, just a hope."
He laughed again, and I felt his fingers in my skirt, gathering the material up. When he encountered the bare flesh beneath, any hope of convincing him it had not been a plan was lost.
"How long do we have until they miss you at breakfast?" he asked, sliding his long finger through my center, making me gasp.
