Page 50 of Prize for the King
He purses his lips, watching me with dark eyes creased with worry. “I can tell you’re angry, and I… I apologize, my queen. I didn’t ask your permission this morning before I… Well, I did wrong. I’m sorry. You can punish me as you see fit.”
I raise my eyebrows, intrigued. “Punish you?”
He nods vigorously, as if eager for me to takeinterest. “Yes. The queen can discipline her knights if they displease her. You can deliver the punishment yourself or order me to do something unpleasant.”
“And how does Magnar usually punish you?”
Khay shrugs as he slides the last pin into place, my braid having turned into an elegant bun on my nape. “He doesn’t. It’s the queen’s prerogative.”
When our eyes meet in the mirror, his lips spread in a mischievous smile, his sadness wiped away. Gods, even the prospect of being punished doesn’t keep Khay from smiling.
“I have ideas if you need some,” he says, his eyes glinting. “You can order me to massage your feet every time we stop today, or to drink your bathwater, or make me prostrate on the floor and walk all over me. Or better yet, do all three.”
I can’t hold back a laugh at his antics. “They seem like lousy punishments, since I get the impression you’d enjoy them.”
“Well, you caught me. You can use those as rewards for me, too. I’m not picky.”
Khay helps me to my feet, and I turn to him, my mind made. This is my chance to get some peace at last, so I can force myself into a proper state of mourning.
“As your punishment, I’d like you to sleep on the floor from now on.”
His smile vanishes, his eyes wide and aghast. “No! But that’s… Oh, bugger.Fine.As my queen commands. But will you please at least tread on me as you get into bed?”
I rear back, surprised it actually worked. Khay’s mouth twists as he holds back words of complaint, and his fists are clenched, but he doesn’t even try to make me change my mind. He doesn’t laugh, telling me it was a joke. That no woman will ever command him.
He accepts my punishment.
I have half a mind to take it back, seeing how unhappyhe is, but—no. I must do what I can to get myself back on track, or this guilt will crush me. Sleeping with Khay is for a good princess. It’s pleasant, warm, safe, and everything else I crave, and so, I cannot have it.
I must repent.
XV Four
The breakfast is served in a small hall downstairs, the tables bare with no cloths, their tops scratched and stained. There are only benches to sit on. Magnar sits in the middle of a short table, waving me imperiously to a free space between him and Raduna as I enter with Khay. I stand behind my seat, nervously gathering my skirts before I step over, when Khay lifts me from behind without warning. I sit, gasping from shock.
“That is so difficult to get used to,” I mutter, shaking my head.
Magnar grunts. “Warn the queen next time, Khay. She’s not a bag to throw around.”
“Yes, my king,” Khay says, shooting me an apologetic look from where he sits on the other side of Raduna.
“You’re no better, you know,” I grumble before I have time to think. I do that sometimes when I make the mistake of feeling too comfortable. Avinia did her utmost to try to break this habit of mine.
“Insolent Princesses can’t sit with polite company.”
Magnar laughs, his eyes glinting. “You are right, of course. How did you sleep, darling?”
It takes me a moment to accept I’m not going to be punished for speaking my mind, and another to remember what my goal is. Looking at Magnar’s silver eyes when they are so rivetingly focusedon me is the most distracting thing. My thoughts take a moment to wrestle into submission.
“Fine, thank you. What did you do with my father’s remains?”
Magnar makes a sound of disgust, then clears his throat. I pour myself tea, waiting for his reply.
“That was abrupt. Well, I’m due to receive a report from Farneer today, so that’s when I’ll know for sure, but I left my governors with the orders to bury him in the royal crypt, and the priest who married us was to say whatever prayers are appropriate. If you wish for your father to be buried in another manner, I can send a messenger right now with fresh orders. They’ll dig him out and do with him as you please.”
He cuts off a large piece of sausage after delivering his speech and starts chewing, watching me expectantly with his brows raised. I nod hesitantly, taken aback by Magnar’s readiness to mess with a buried body on my whim.
“Thank you, that’s not necessary. I’m glad he was buried properly.”
