Page 92 of The Beast King's Bride

I don’t want any other man.

Admitting to my feelings is a frightening thing. Having lived as a servant for most of my life, I never honestly considered the power of love, its veracity, its reality. It was never considered a viable option in life. Sure, the bards in the royal halls sang of romantic love, of knights and maidens, and even in the dim kitchens and pantries, we heard ditties about such things—even about love stories between nymphs and humans, humans and Fae, Fae and mermaids and folk of the air.

But it was never meant to apply to us.

Not sure it applies to the royals, either. Marriages have always been arranged for political reasons.

Which leaves me floating in the same sea of uncertainty and excitement as before.

The only thing I know for certain is that I need to find out more about the curse and that I need to see Talen.

The guards lead me to the throne room where Talen is already holding audience, oil lamps hanging from the ceiling providing illumination since outside the windows the sky has barely flared into light.

He’s sitting on one of the massive blue-black stone thrones, long, leather-clad legs stretched in front of him, crossed at the ankle, black boots catching the light of the lamps. He has his chin propped on one hand, elbow braced on the armrest. Black hair is falling on his forehead and his horns gleam dully.

The sight of him eases something in me, something I hadn’t realized was aching in me—a thorn, a fear that he may not last the night, roaming the palace as a beast, facing the monsters.

Jassin is standing there, talking to him quietly.

“Sire, how long is left?” he’s saying as I approach on silent feet. “Please, tell me I’ve calculated wrong. I have this fear—”

“This isn’t the place for this,” Talen says. He looks tired, I think, face pale and drawn, and it tugs at my heart.

How much sleep does he manage to catch each morning, between his transformation back to Fae form and the start of his kingly duties?

“But this is important, Sire. If I’m right, I—”

“Jassin, not now.” The king’s eyes alight on me and brighten with such joy that another thorn leaves my chest. “Ash!”

Lifting my skirts, I march toward them, then pause to curtsy at the foot of the throne. “Your Majesty.”

“No, no, you never curtsy to me.” He’s on his feet in a heartbeat, taking my hands, lifting me up. He grins down at me. “I had half a mind to cancel all the meetings and delegations and just come find you this morning.”

Jassin lets out a barely suppressed gasp from behind us. “That would be a first,” he mutters.

Talen’s grin widens. “Then it was about time. And I can still do it. Shall we go find breakfast, my lady?”

I laugh at the excited, childlike look on his face. “Sure. But what about all those meetings? They must be important.”

“They can wait.”

“But Sire,” Jassin says, “the patrol—”

“It can wait.” Talen puts his hands on my face, touching my cheeks, my lashes, my brows, my lips. “It can all wait.”

“Yes, majesty,” Jassin says faintly and I can’t swear to it but I think he’s smiling. “Of course. I shall have everyone wait until you return.”

“Are you sure this won’t be a problem?” I ask Talen as he slides his hand down my side to find my hand and clasp it in his. “You don’t need to come with me, I can find breakfast on my own, after all, I run the kitchens now. I—”

“Show me your kitchens,” he says, his grin turning crooked. “And let everyone wait. You are the only one I want to see. I want you to myself.”

How can I say no to that?

We never make it to the kitchens. We take a detour to his room for him to grab a document he needs and I follow him inside as he heads for a console, the guards flanking the door outside.

“What paper are you looking for?” I ask when he opens a drawer, then another.

“The royal tree of Sapphire Court with the seal of my ascend to the throne.”

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