Page 50 of Of Stars and Lightning
“I will supervise her lashings outside.” Samara grabbed Nina’s arm, her nails digging into her already sore skin. “Don’t need to get blood on the floors again.”
Arnold waved a hand. “Fine. Gives me more room to deal with the rest of the problem.”
As Nina was dragged away, the King’s eyes shone with storms, and she feared Cas's lightning would be no match for them.
SAMARA’S GRIP WAS rough.
Not rough with anticipation like that of the kingsmen—rough with desperation.
She dragged Nina through hallways, everyone parting for the Semmena Advisor and the Yarrow Hand. No one dared meet either of their gazes, and Nina didn’t blame them. A wrong look at Samara and she was even less restrained than Cas when it came to using her magic.
Though she never got punished for it.
Finally, they exited the castle, and Nina felt like she could breathe, inhaling gasps of the outdoor air to replace the filthy one from inside.
Samara continued to pull her through the gardens, passing the courtyards and rose bushes and lilies, all which Nina yearned to stop and touch. The scent of flowers and mud followed them all the way to the stables, but before they made it inside, she was called to stop.
“Miss Samara,” a breathless kingsman said, jogging up to their side. “The King said to do the lashes publicly.”
Nina’s breath hitched at the statement, but Samara laughed and threw the stable door open. “Fuck off, Kelvin. The punishment I am to give her for her insolence isn’t for the public.”
Kelvin blanched. “His—his majesty said lashings.”
Samara smirked and removed her dagger from a hidden pocket on the side of her baby-blue dress. “I say blades.”
Leaving the man stunned, Samara shoved Nina into the stable rooms and shut the door behind them.
Nina wouldn’t deny she missed the smell of the stables. As she landed on a pile of hay, horse huffs and startled whinnies in the background, a soft sense of nostalgia spilled through her. If anyone else other than Samara was before her, Nina would have begged for mercy.
Instead, she crossed her legs beneath her and looked up at the woman. “I don't need your help.”
Samara tossed the dagger aside, the blade glinting in the dim orange light. “You’re an idiot. Really, Nanette? Messing with the kingsguard as soon as you come back?” She shook her head. “Not the way I wanted to find out you were returning.”
“Surprise.”
“You could have written.”
“You never answer.”
Samara sighed and sat beside her. “I’ve missed you.”
The heat between them grew, sending Nina’s heart into a staccato. She curled her fingers into fists to resist reaching for her. But failed as she did every time.
She raised one hand to Samara’s neck, cradling her gently as she slid the other to her waist to pull her close. Samara obliged, meltinginto the touch, and shifting to sit on Nina’s lap, her violet eyes beacons in the swirl of her Shadows.
As their lips met, Nina had no other thoughts except the woman before her. The chaos of the throne room melted with each kiss, and her anxiety drifted into the air, carried along by the tender caress of Samara’s Shadows. Nina savored the sweet, rich scent of berries and pine, tracing the delicate slopes of her lips with her own. Samara’s neck was smooth under Nina’s fingertips, the Shadow Wielder exhaling a shaky breath as she leaned into the touch. Pressing their bodies together, Nina sighed against her lover’s shoulder.
“What’s wrong?” Samara protested as Nina broke their kiss.
“This.” She motioned. “This is wrong.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Nanette,” Samara whispered, trailing a finger along the neckline of Nina’s blouse.
“And what will your court say when I don't have lash marks on my back?”
“The healers here work wonders.”
Nina sighed. “I don't need this, Samara. What about Cas? Your brother is likely to get thrown in the dungeons.”
