Page 85 of King of Storms and Feathers

Arrow had warned he’d wear me down, that I would beg for his touch, and beg I had, many times over, disgusted with myself because my longing for him was genuine. But debasing myself had the desired effect, and I was officially his favorite pastime.

Each day, as soon as he’d finished his kingly duties, he would return to his chambers and indulge my wildest desires. There was hardly a place in his chambers we hadn’t made use of—his bed, the river, the divans, the floors. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t living for the moments when his voice rumbled against my flesh, raising chills.

The times that I’d accompanied Arrow to court were the hardest. Playing the placid concubine, smiling when he stroked my hair or clamped an arm around my waist, wasn’t a role I enjoyed or one that came naturally. My rebellious nature screamed for me to lash out and scratch his cheek. But a darker, immensely stupider internal voice urged me to lead him back to his apartment, where I could kiss him senseless in private.

Every night, I dreamed about his kisses, his rasped commands, and begged in my sleep for his bite. I craved the feel of him drawing my life essence through my veins in hot pulses.

Yes, I still hated him. But whether I was asleep or awake, only two things consumed my thoughts: the Storm King and my family in the forest. My twin obsessions—one of which I needed to kill to escape and the other I’d kill to return to.

“Leaf, snap out of it,” said Ari, clicking her fingers in front of my face. “I have a surprise for you.”

“In recent experience, surprises are more like shocks. Will this be another one of them?”

“Take a look.”

I glanced down. Two knives glittered on Ari’s tray, one with a blade of the sharpest obsidian. Smiling, she placed a bowl of water and a cake of soap on the floor between us.

“What are they for?”

“First, I’m going to cut your hair, and then I’ll shave it. But only the right side, yes?”

I nodded, still wondering why I wanted to wear my hair in a style I saw no humans or fae at court wearing. “Why now?”

“Because the king asked me to.”

As she swept my hair aside, the Sayeeda gasped, her fingers trailing over the area where Arrow had bitten me that first night. “Arrowyn did this?” she asked, her voice weak.

“Yes. I had no idea that he had a vampiric nature.”

“He doesn’t, strictly speaking. As reaver elves need the kanara feathers to survive, true vampire fae require blood as sustenance. He bit you, leaving this mark, for a different reason.”

I pushed her fingers away and massaged the side of my neck. “I thought it had healed.”

“The wound is fine, but in its place, there is a feather glyph, indicating he has marked you as his Aldara.”

“His what?” I asked, blood rushing through my ears.

“His Aldara. His chosen. The word translates from old Coridonian as ‘winged gift’. It is a bond stronger than the most tightly contracted of political marriages, breakable only by death.”

“That makes no sense.” Tears stung my eyes as panic swirled in my chest. “Why would he do that?”

She laughed. “There is only one reason, Leaf. So no other fae can have you.” Taking up the serrated knife, she cut one side of my hair close to my scalp. “This development is good. He has come to rely on you, desire only you, which means it’s now safe for us to plan your escape.”

Ari swept a soft-bristled brush through a dish of water, soaping my scalp before scraping the short hair off with the obsidian blade. “Both Ildri and I will put the idea in Arrowyn’s head that he should visit Auryinnia Mines and take you along. It would be a perfect opportunity to impress you with his power and skills of diplomacy.”

“I wasn’t aware he possessed any such skills.”

Ari snorted. “Fortunately, most males cannot resist showing off in front of their women. I am confident he’ll agree to take you.”

“You’d better organize the trip before he gets bored and tosses me through the Gates of Amon.”

“All you must do,” she said, drying the right side of my head with a towel with rough strokes, “is keep smiling at him, enjoy the bed sport, and leave the rest to me.”

I swiveled and frowned at her. She smacked my bare shoulder, turning me away again, then braided what was left of my hair down my back in a thick rope.

When she finished, Ari raised a mirror, and I leaned forward to inspect her work. A strange feeling swelled in my chest, equal parts sadness and happiness. “This… this is how I used to wear it.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “I know.”

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