Page 14 of You're Not My King!

There was a beat of silence, and Puu-kah, very boldly and unashamedly, assessed me. Her eyes darted from my hair to my feet, her expression filled with awe and some type of contagious happiness. She looked ready to buzz right out of her scales.

“Did you need something, my dear?” Fiona asked after a moment, her voice tinged with amusement.

“Ah, yes.” She floundered, peeling her gaze away for a split second before returning it to me. “I wanted to say hello, and to… to… Bah.”

“It’s alright, pet,” Fiona assured her before saying a quick flurry of words I didn’t understand. Puu-kah replied in her language, and I could do nothing but sit there, switching between watching the back and forth and counting the bottles on the shelves.

Eventually, they both faced me, and Fiona was the one to speak. “She wants you to know that her brother is an irritating toerag, but will treat you well, and she cannot wait for you to be mated ’cause she’s always wanted another sibling.”

I stared at her blankly for a moment. “Um, thanks?”

Puu-kah’s smile somehow widened. “I will now give you peace,” she chirped, clapping my back almost hard enough to send me flying before bounding out of the tent with a skip and a flourish.

My back stung like a bitch.

I turned my head comically slowly to Fiona. “She’s… friendly?”

She huffed a laugh, nodding. “She is only fifteen and has far too much energy, but she’s harmless. You’ll get used to it.”

I’d have to, because one more of those ‘harmless’ slaps and I’d have no spine left.

Distractions clearly over, the doc beat her hands on the tabletop, rising to her feet with an oof. “Right, let’s get you bathed and into your ceremonial robes, lovey.”

Fuck. The king dude wasn’t delaying, huh?

I stuck out my bottom lip and fluttered my lashes, using the last weapon I had. Too bad I was, apparently, an ugly fucker. “Can’t I sleep on it?”

“No,” she said without missing a beat, immune to my dramatics. “Sorry.”

I blew out a breath. “Worth a shot. Guess arguing is out the window, too?”

“You can try—I do love a good argument—but you’ll lose.” She leaned over to tap my hand, smiling smugly at my indignant splutter. “After tonight, you will be left alone. I’ll make sure of it. But… because of their customs, this part is out of my hands.”

I really had no choice in the matter. It was either give in or give up, and honestly, there didn’t feel like much of a difference right now. I hauled myself to my feet, tucking my stool under the table as Fiona wandered over to one of her cabinets, scanning the rows for something.

She hummed a tune under her breath, a little too cheery for an accomplice in my forced marriage. “Before we start…” She drummed her fingers against her chin. “Have you partaken in anal before?”

I choked on spit. “Wha—? Why the hell?—”

Fiona tutted, strolling as casually as could be around the table to smack my back while I hacked my guts up. “Calm yourself. I only need to know what type of bath salts will benefit you,” she clarified, and that didn’t make the question any better. “If you haven’t had anal intercourse, then I have a lovely floral-scented oil that’ll help loosen?—”

“Okay, okay.” I waved my hands in surrender, voice a little croaky. Jesus. I knew she was a healer, and I was no blushing virgin, but it gave me flashbacks of my first Thanksgiving being out when my aunt had innocently asked if I was a top or a bottom after seeing the terms in a magazine. Except this woman had clearly already made her assumptions—correct though they were. “Yes, I have. Had sex, I mean. So, there’s no need for the gape oil. Thanks.”

“Very well. A relaxation scent will do.”

“Fine,” I grumbled, clearing my throat once more. “Just no magic crap.”

“I’m touched that you think I could be a wizard,” she sassed, and if I didn’t die on my wedding night—or any day after—I could imagine us being buddies. “But I’m just a regular ole healer, making sure you know how things work.”

I shot her a half-assed glare. “I’m tempted to ask for an explanation just to be a shit.”

She smirked. “Well, I’m a nurse. Nothing medical embarrasses me.”

“Apparently.” I followed her behind the bookshelves, where a small wooden tub was already half-full. I stared at the steam and felt my muscles groan in anticipation—I also wondered how it’d stayed hot this long, but how else did everything work around here?

Fiona readied the bath, adding a few dried petals and a splash of oil. All the while, something, one teeny tiny detail, was playing on my mind. “What even is this dude’s name, anyway?” I asked, hoping it would soothe my nerves some to not be totally in the dark about my husband to be.

His name was a start, I supposed.

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