Page 63 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
“Well, she loves me.” Drake waltzes over and drapes his arms over both mine and Cyprien’s shoulders.
Cyprien immediately shrugs him off. “And why does she like you?” he snaps.
“It’s my winning personality. Everyone loves me.”
Klara groans, approaching us.“Of course you would say that.” She laughs. “You don’t leave them much choice. People get hounded by your constant ridiculously good mood.” She says it as though it were an insult.
“I go out of my way to make people smile. Maybe you should try telling a joke one day, Cyprien.” Drake slaps his back.
Their chatter fades to background noise as I gravitate toward Keira. I take her hands in mine, rubbing my thumbs across the back of them. “I want to toss you over my shoulder and drag you back to the safe house. I don’t want you to set foot in this palace until Titania is dead, much lessleaveyou here by yourself.”
The very idea of walking away tonight, while Keira returns to that woman’s clutches, has my stomach twisting in painful knots. Every instinct roars at me to charge into the palace and carve a bloody path through my enemies, so none of them canhurt or humiliate her ever again. But the blood spilled tonight would be mine and my people’s.
Even with the Assassins of Belladonna at my disposal, we would face significant losses against the guards in this palace. They greatly outnumber us and we would have to fight a bottleneck to slowly get our warriors in. Even if we were to succeed in this way, I am sure the people would rise against us in a civil war. It baffles me how much love Titania still commands from them. It is like a cult.
Keira places a hand on my cheek. “You cannot take me away from my captivity and hide me somewhere safe. The bargain won’t allow it, and even if it did, you won’t stop me fighting for our throne. It is just as much my right.”
“I won’t,” I admit begrudgingly. “Come.” I tug at her hand, voice dropping seductively low. “There is something I need to show you. I promise, I will make it worth your while.”
I don’t give her the chance to agree or protest. I steal her from the room with every imaginable wicked thought whirling through my mind about just how I am going to punish her for daring to sacrifice herself for me. She is going to be begging and incoherent by the time I am done with her, drenched in her own arousal.
Aldrin pulls me through a doorway into one of the many narrow tunnels, then slams my back against the wall. The soft network of roots that coats it cushions the impact. His lips are on me within a heartbeat, trailing up my neck from my collarbone to behind my ear, his stubble lightly scratching against the tender flesh.
I gasp for air, running my hands down the muscled planes of his back, feeling each one ripple beneath my touch, until I grab his ass. I have needed his closeness so badly. Our mate bond has given us the intimacy of the mind and emotions, sharing almost everything while we were apart, butthis—no tricks with magic can compete with having his body wrapped around mine.
I smile as his hardness grows and presses into my stomach. It is empowering, to have such an effect on him. I writhe to drag friction across it. Pure elation fills me as his powerful body jerks under my control and I try to weave a hand between our tightly pressed bodies, but he catches it and pulls it over my head.
“Not yet. I have plans for you,” he promises, kissing me so deeply my head spins. All I know is the intoxicating scent of him:earthy and floral, with hints of masculine sweat. Love blooms within my chest until I think my fluttering heart will explode, then he pulls away.“It’s not far from here.”
He takes my hand, the size difference meaning mine is almost completely hidden in his, then pulls me up the steps. I almost stumble multiple times, because I am more interested in the light show put on by the roots that dart in and out of the grout of the masonry. They become bioluminescent in a long ring around Aldrin, lighting up the space multiple steps ahead of and behind us. Some of the tendril-thin tips reach out for him, receding after he passes, like the tree too has missed his presence.
He swings open the door at the top of the staircase and turns back to me with a wolfish grin on his face. His profile is bathed in bluish-purple light. I allow him to lead me through, pulling me in front of him and holding me by the shoulders.
The cavern beyond takes my breath away.
Immense columns and archways are carved straight into stone, supporting a high natural ceiling. Circular shafts are cut into it, with prominent beams of moonlight shining through, down onto an ancient wisteria tree.
Its immense size sends shockwaves of awe ripping through me.The twisted trunk is as wide as the throne room, many low-hanging branches extending off it, each with the girth of a carriage. The woody limbs reach across the cavern, disappearing into the walls and ceiling at hundreds of different sites. I finally understand why it is called the bones of the palace.
Roots taller than even Aldrin snake across the ground, splitting again and again into a web. A crystal-clear, ankle-deep pool of water fills the cavern, with an island hugging the base of the tree. Long cascades of tiny purple flowers decorate the canopy, completely filling the ceiling and squeezing against the walls. Their petals are littered across the floor, floating atop thepool and piling high on the solid ground. Segmented, bean-like seed pods hang from the foliage in clusters, some as long as my arm and radiating that bluish-purple light.
I turn in Aldrin’s arms to face him. “Is this the Wisteria of Mythanar?”
“It is.”
He leads me down the embankment, and we take our boots off before stepping through the water. Tiny blue sprites swim within it, darting toward my toes and away.
“This tree was planted by my ancestor, the same queen who built this city and palace. She set a powerful enchantment over it, so it only bonds to our royal family line. I had to see it for myself, to ensure it is loyal to my bloodline and not the throne itself.”
He steps onto the island surrounding the tree, bringing me with him. The ground is surprisingly soft, with a carpet of moss beneath the fallen petals. Aldrin crouches and places his hand to the tree. Rough strips of bark pull back so his palm touches the smooth wood beneath and purple runes light up across the trunk, rippling out from his contact. He closes his eyes, frowning slightly, and when they snap open, he gestures for me to join him.
“Put your hand beside mine,” he murmurs. “The tree is still loyal to me alone. I want to introduce you to it.”
I do as I am told, kneeling beside him, but glance at him questioningly.
“Do you remember when an assassin tried to kill us while we slept in the palace and I dragged the tree’s limbs out of the walls to capture him?” he asks, and I nod. “The roots and branches of this tree are spread throughout every room of the palace, but no other fae can control it, no matter how much earth magic they have. Not even the Tuatha Dé Danann gods themselves. But you are my mate and my family. I wantyouto be able to wield thistree as a weapon or a means to restructure any space. To be able to open doorways through walls if you need to escape.”
Aldrin’s power pulses within the tree. It caresses my palm and pulls on my own power as the tendrils of our magic interlock. It feels like he runs his fingers over the most sensitive parts of my body, along my sides and across my breasts, up my inner thighs and over their apex. A tantalizing shiver runs down my spine as my breath hitches.
