I grimace in distaste, immediately set against the idea. That’s preposterous. I don’t need to fuck some random person just to prove that I’m not under Ryther’s thumb.
And I wouldn’t want to. I open my mouth, about to say just that, when Ryther states, “He’s right.”
I look from my brother to my mate, stunned at both.
Loch thinks I can just whore myself out, and Ryther agrees? What the hell. So much for understanding the folk.
“I can’t just—” I make a face. “You mean, I need to pretend…”
“If we had months, years, you could,” Ryther says. “Flaunt some seelie before the courts, shower them with affection, and make them believe they have your favor. But the lords could be gone in the morrow—they’ll stay days at most. We made a definite statement with those marks of ours. You need to be just as clear in your seelie attachment.”
I decide I hate the fact that Ryther always sounds so damn rational. “And you’re okay with that?”
A beat passes. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Oh. Well, that make sense. We barely know each other. He bound himself to me to save my life. That doesn’t mean he requires or wants undying devotion and fidelity from me—or that I should want it from him. Hell, I’ve never been much for monogamy. When in a relationship, I’ve often felt stifled by it, as soon as I met someone else and despised the fact that I couldn’t do as I pleased because societal norms dictated that I should only touch one person.
It’s to be expected that he’s okay with sharing me. I should find a way to be okay with sharing him, too.
I decide to be honest with myself for one second. I hate it. I loathe this idea, and want to tell him, tell them both, where to shove it.
There. That’s the moment of honesty, gone.
I also assure myself it doesn’t matter. I want to stay alive. I don’t want to be shot with iron, enslaved, poisoned. If fucking half the court is what it takes, then that should be what I do.
“All right,” I make myself agree. “I’ll take Valdred.”
At least I’ve already had his cock in one of my orifices, though I had little choice about it at the time. It wasn’t too horrible, despite the complete lack of volition. He has a good cock. Long, straight, large. And he wanted me before the whole crown and birthright and attempted murder madness, so there's that.
“He’s a good option,” Loch assures me. “A leader amongst the seelie. And you’re doing the right thing.”
Then why do I feel like throwing up?
Loch goes to fetch Valdred for me. Somehow it makes the whole thing even more ridiculous; my little brother, informing some guy that he should fuck me for the good of the realm. Or so I can keep breathing. Same difference.
“I don’t like it,” I admit out loud.
Ryther takes a minute to reply. “It’s efficient, squashing the main argument of those who insist you’re not fit to rule. But if you don’t want to do it, then we’ll find another way.”
I look up to him. He shrugs indifferently. “We could murder all the rulers, and replace them with more malleable heirs.”
I laugh. Then I realize there’s a chance he’s serious. “That was a joke, right?”
A small smile curls up his lip. “Doesn’t need to be.”
Somehow, he’s vanished most of my tension with his offer for a mass murder as an alternative.
“It’s just weird,” I say. “I’ve never had sex for any reason other than feeling like it. For it to be a strategy, it seems…wrong.”
“You’re queen. Where and when you take a piss ought to be a strategy.” Then he says, “If you don’t want Valdred, we can still play this out. Make a show here, take him to your rooms, and play cards for the rest of the night. But know that come morning, when the court asks about his exploits, he will not be able to lie. He’ll deflect, choose clever words, and they’ll know you’ve attempted to play them. It might appease a few of the less inflamed lords, but it’ll likely infuriate the others more.”
I bite down on my lower lip. “How do you feel about it?”
“You’re mine.” His tone changes at the last word, lower, dark, threatening. Something shifts in low in my belly.
His.
“A primal force, whether it be time, fate, necessity, justice or retribution, has looked into each of our souls and decided that they should be bound to one another. He doesn’t matter. No one else does. You could take a dozen cocks. It won’t change that your soul and mine belong to one another.”
