“Hmm.”
He shivered. Perhaps not the right thing to say.
“She didn't touch me.”
The Queen picked up her wine cup. “Later.”
Later was after almost two hours, in which an impromptu performance sprang up from the Akeramians. They were half drunk as they grabbed servants into a stumbling dance that devolved into a game of whipping the servants’ feet and laughing at those who were hit. All the nobles within each entourage were offered whips. Most ignored them. Balak handled his proficiently.
It did not speak well of him.
While no servants died at the prince’s hand, red lines marked the faces of any who strayed too close. The nobles found his game amusing. Their aim was much worse.
The Queen ate and drank. She briefly spoke to a Delian who attempted to gift her a book of scripture. Anais commented that the paper would make fine fuel for her hearth. She declined the prince’s invitation to dance, implying she preferred dances with swords that might cut his chances in the tournament short. And elsewhere, for that matter.
It was delightful to simply watch her.
When the nobles became too drunk to be lively, she rose to her feet. The music struck a final, trailing note.
“Welcome again, guests of Drantar. Dance, feast, enjoy the pleasures of my palace. Tomorrow, the tournament begins. May the most deserving amongst you win.”
Her voice projected to the room for the last sentence, but she faced Castien. She opened her hand. Taking it, he kissed her claws and followed her out of the hall.
She didn't slow until they passed the rose gardens. Pushing him into her room, she muttered something at Jerome, then closed the door firmly behind her. Her crown flew onto the bed.
“Anais–”
His back slammed against the wall. He grunted at the impact, expecting his head to bounce against the hard surface as well, but her hand was there instead, pulling him down. Her lips crashed onto his. Rose and lavender, wine and sweet fruit assaulted his senses. He groaned.
This was what he truly needed.
His arms came up around her, and he sucked her tongue, explored her mouth, bit her lip. The taste of her chased away the ache in his head. He should have had a bottle of wine ready, convinced her to relax and get drunk while he kissed every inch of her skin.
Next time, he'd remember the wine.
When they finally parted, breathless, her hard emerald eyes glared at him. “I swore I'd kill the next woman you slept with.”
He blinked, ran his tongue over his lip, then frowned. “Actually, you said you'd stab me. Besides, you sent me to her…?”
“Yes, well. Nonetheless.” Her eyes scanned his face, his neck. “Did she hurt you?”
“No, I’m fine. Like I said, she didn't even touch me.” A smile tugged at his lips. He cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her tempting mouth. “Is that jealousy I hear?”
“Mm.” She leaned into his palm and sighed. Her sharp glare softened. In a quieter voice, she asked, “Did I hurt you?”
Shewasjealous, and yet she still thought of him. His chest tightened.
“Never. Impossible. I’m yours to do with as you wish. I am yours in every way, Anais.”
She opened her mouth to speak, but he pressed his thumb inside, between her teeth, and inhaled slowly as her tongue swirled around his finger. He murmured, “If you want to send me into the arms of another woman, that's your prerogative. If you want to use me as a spy, that's what I'll be. I trust you. I love you.”
Her eyes burned him. Anger lingered, but it wasn't directed at him. She leaned back and grumbled, “I still want to carve out her eyes.”
His smile became a smirk. “A lot of eyes have seen me naked.”
She snarled softly. “You said she didn't touch you.”
“She didn’t. I'm not sure why, but she wanted to see my scars.”
