Page 97 of King of Storms and Feathers

I rolled my eyes. “Forever is a long time.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, his gaze traveling over the panels of gold and bronze fabric that wrapped my body as soft as spiderwebs and almost as sheer.

When I finally looked away from his golden beauty, I scanned the room. The luminous bodies moving to the slow tune of the pipes and a singer’s lilting voice came into focus.

The regal Zareen sat smiling on the dais, and most of the gold reavers were on the floor surrounding us, dancing in loose-limbed movements.

“Have you eaten?” Arrow waved his scarred warrior’s hand, unburdened by rings or artifice, toward the far wall at a bank of tables laden with food platters.

“Yes, I shared a plate of meat and cheese with Ari earlier. I’m not hungry.”

“Good. Will you dance with me?”

Interesting how he posed it as a question when we both knew I had no choice in the matter. Of course I would dance with him.

Gold dust fell like rain as I stepped into his arms, and he spun us in time with the hypnotic pulse of the music. Above us, golden bodies shimmered from high bars, swinging through the glittering air, just as Arrow had promised they would.

Compared to Arrow’s Court, Auryinnia was intimate and serene, and I felt at home on the dance floor among the elves. In my five-plus weeks at Coridon, Arrow and I had never danced like this, our bodies close, hearts beating as one, as we stared into each other’s eyes.

The Storm Court’s musical revels had been much too raucous for romance—riotous reels and jigs, with drunken fae constantly tumbling over each other. Most nights I’d watched the dancers from Arrow’s dais, distracting myself from the delicious torture of his fingers stroking my skin under the table.

And now, as we spun past Raiden and Ari, I tried to imagine how Arrow had held his invisible wings while he ate his meals in Coridon’s Grand Hall or ravished me in his bed. Had they always been present or did he only manifest them at certain times?

I studied his strong features that never failed to stir an intense combination of disgust and longing inside me. Yes, I lusted after the king. And I also hated him. But was that all I really felt, or did something more worrying dwell in the depths of my heart?

Tonight, the skin around his eyes looked too tight for an immortal, even for a warrior king, who traveled his realm in a dusty cloak and bought slave girls from markets on a whim. He looked tense. Tired. And before I could suppress the emotion, sympathy swirled in my chest and burst right out of my mouth.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, you’ve returned to the scene of a traumatic event, and—”

“Yes, I see what you mean.” His lips quirked. “But I’m fine. Each time a memory threatens my composure, I turn my thoughts toward retiring to our tent. That distraction you promised me in the carriage helps me even now.”

I smiled as he drew me closer, worry and that damned futile pity stirring again in the pit of my belly. How would Arrow cope tomorrow when he had to deal with his memories, magnified by my betrayal? And the nightmares… When I was gone, who would hold him close and soothe him back to sleep?

Between dances, we spoke with the Zareen and her consort, a good-humored male with a deep, booming laugh, called Jarveeya. With keen anticipation, they described tomorrow’s events—in the morning, a tour of the mines followed by an afternoon hunt, where we would ride the reavers’ famous eponars, the tall, sightless, bronze-furred creatures that were part jinn, part horse, and used magic to navigate their way through the desert.

Smiling brightly, I told the Zareen that I looked forward to the festivities. I felt genuinely sad that I would miss the hunt for the wild hares of the plains that would be spit-roasted for a feast every elf, storm fae, and mine worker would attend. Except for me.

Hours later, as the king bid the reavers goodnight and led me from the hall, I noticed Esen scowling over her dance partner’s shoulders. I gave her a cheery wave before the elevator doors closed, hopeful it would be the last time I had to look upon her bitter face.

Dropping his glamour with a laugh, Arrow picked me up, spread his wings, and launched into the sky. I let out a single screech as my stomach lurched. Then I clung to him, enjoying the thrill of the wind in my hair and the sight of the tiny campfires burning below.

When he turned and swooped toward our tent, I dug my fingers into his shoulders, and yelled, “Can we not go farther? This is amazing!”

“No,” was his clipped and only reply as he landed in a graceful crouch, then marched us through the canvas door.

Chapter 25

Leaf

Flames writhed in seven braziers, casting sensual shadows over the walls of the tent and Arrow’s strong features. With an exaggerated grunt, he threw me on the bed, and I wriggled to the edge.

As he loomed over me, his gaze hungry, I reached for the laces on his leathers, eager to continue where we had left off in the carriage.

After all, it would be our last time.

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