Page 37 of King of Storms and Feathers

“I wish to know what makes your flesh crawl and your heart pound.”

“I’m surprised you need to ask. You do,” I said hoarsely. “You scare me.”

His head tilted, and he inhaled slowly, running his nose along my neck. My breath hitched.

The king froze, his face pressed to my hair, his hand wrapping my throat again. Then he drew back and stared at me.

“What you said is true. You smell of fear. And you’re not afraid of pain.” His lips brushed mine as he bent his knees and ground his hips into me. “But you’re afraid of how you react to this.”

Long and hard, his length slid through the damp material of my pants.

“Please…” I begged. “I don’t want that.”

“And now the truth-teller becomes a liar. You reek of desire. You’re afraid of yourself.”

“No…” I denied it.

Grabbing my hand, he guided my palm down my stomach, pushing my fingers beneath the fabric across my hipbones, then lower. “Feel the evidence of your lie, Leaf. Feel how your body betrays you.”

My skull rasped against rough marble as I looked to the stairs, a padding sound drawing my attention.

Then the soft voice of the Sayeeda floated across the room, breaking Arrowyn’s dark spell. “My King,” she said.

Muttering a curse, he stepped away from me, and I dragged my hand out of my pants, shame scalding my cheeks.

“Yes, Ari, what is it?” Arrow said calmly.

“I’ve brought your medicine.”

He grunted. “Of course. Come in.”

Her gaze averted, Ari climbed the stairs to the sitting room, carried her tray past my pavilion, then up to Arrow’s bedchamber.

His breath tickling my ear, he leaned close. “Thank you for clarifying what frightens you the most.” To emphasize his point, his heated gaze dropped to my core. “Don’t get too comfortable sunbathing and eating butter dumplings. Your punishment starts tomorrow.”

I slid to the floor and curled under the Sayeeda’s shawl, praying she hadn’t witnessed my shame. What a fool I was, turning soft-kneed, my body weeping for the very man who had locked me in a cage.

My legs shifted on the tiles, my hips aching. I groaned, wishing I could drown out the sounds of Ari and the king murmuring to each other.

The Sayeeda’s silhouette lit a candle by Arrow’s bed, then she lovingly spooned a tincture between his lips, as if he was an ill child or worse, her beloved.

Between doses, his voice rumbled. She soothed him with whispers, then hummed a soft song that also calmed my frayed nerves.

I wondered if she was running her palms over his body, and if his feather glyphs blazed like they had done for me earlier.

As night hawks called to each other in the distance, did Ari’s golden lips press kisses on the king’s chest, his stomach, and over the hard rod I’d felt pulse against me?

No matter how I strained my ears, I heard no noises of passion, only whispered words, and at one point, the rare sound of the Sayeeda’s husky laugh. Just when I thought I’d never fall asleep, Ari’s lullaby began again, but this time, she sang the lyrics, words in the reaver language I didn’t understand.

It sounded so beautiful. I wanted to hear it all the way to the end, but my eyelids grew heavy, and before long, my surroundings changed from the chilly desert to the humid forest of my dreams.

After a surprisingly restful sleep, I woke to a sky streaked with pink and orange and lurched into a sitting position.

The king was already gone from his bed, and instead of lying on hard tiles, I was on a mattress made of large cushions, my body covered in a thick blanket of softest alnarah goat’s wool.

As I stroked the blanket and marveled at my new comforts, I reminded myself to thank Ari for her kindness the next time I saw her. The Sayeeda may have been a fool for the king, an unlikeable trait, but she wasn’t half as unkind as the frosty mask she wore suggested.

The self-satisfied Arrow was another matter, far more dangerous than a regular cruel master who taunted and abused his captives for fun.

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