Page 48 of King of Storms and Feathers

I adjusted my position and put more of my weight into the work.

If the price to wield storm magic was energy depletion, I wondered how Arrow’s particular species of fae recharged their powers. Many humans ate gold for the initial benefits it gave them—as a painkiller and to receive prophetic visions, but it also boosted energy. Perhaps the Storm Court fae did the same.

“Do you ingest large amounts of gold serum to replenish your magic?” I asked, curious to see if he would answer my nosy question.

“Not often. Too much is poisonous. Rest is the safest method, and of course there is...” He let his words trail off, unwilling to disclose a third method.

“A high dose of serum is poisonous to all fae?”

“Yes. Straddle me.” With his head turned and resting on his folded arms, the bulge of his flexed biceps muffled his voice.

“I… I don’t understand,” I said.

“Straddle the back of my legs and press your knuckles on either side of my spine. Then work down slowly and put all your weight into it.”

With my gown’s long sleeves getting in the way, I tried to obey. I did my best to ignore the animal groans Arrow made each time I leaned forward and dug into the heavy cords of muscle that ran down the middle of his back. My thighs grew damp from his hot skin, the cool air a shock each time I settled back on my heels, the sensation making me dizzy.

“What gods rule over the Light Realm?” I asked.

He made a scoffing sound. “The people pray to many, but there is only one official god. The king.”

I choked out a laugh. “You’re a god?”

“So they tell me,” he replied, wry amusement in his voice.

“Do you really believe that?”

Instead of answering, the king rolled over, his hooded gaze searing me as his thumbs stroked my hipbones. “I need to sleep.” He flipped onto his side, knocking me off balance. “Keep stroking my back,” he ordered.

As he lifted the sheet, I slid in behind him, and he tugged a light woven blanket over us. I couldn’t believe how soft and warm it was and even more luxurious than the Sayeeda’s shawl.

For a moment, I stayed still, just watching the movement of his shoulder blades as he breathed in and out.

Why hadn’t he chained me to a bed post? He probably believed I wouldn’t dream of running. And he was right. At least for now. If I tried, I wouldn’t make it past the guards that secured the apartment. There was only one other way out, through the waterfall window, and I wasn’t foolish enough to leap out of that in the dead of night. It would be difficult enough sleeping in this ridiculous dress, let alone trying to flee a kingdom.

“Why have you stopped stroking my back?” he growled, jolting me out of my thoughts.

I ran my fingers lightly over his skin, drawing patterns and tracing his pulsing glyphs, their color silvery under the moonlight. I stroked his neck, played with his hair, running my nails over his skull, then around the glittering feather glyph that curled over his cheekbone.

“Don’t think you’ve gotten away with your offenses,” he murmured, half asleep. “You have much to atone for, Leaf. Not tonight, but soon. I promise.”

After those ominous words, he fell asleep, and I spent far too long marveling at his bone structure, the sculpted shape of his mouth. And I wondered how someone so physically perfect could be so rotten on the inside.

Perhaps with fae, the greater the beauty, the bigger the asshole. Maybe that rule applied to every species.

Finally, his solid warmth lulled me into a drowsy state, and I drifted into the lush, green dreamworld of my forest home.

What felt like moments later, but was more likely a few hours, a sound of agony woke me. My heart in my mouth, I jolted upright, shocked to find myself still sprawled in the luxurious bed.

Beside me, the king thrashed his bare limbs, the covers now twisted around his ankles. “Fucking gold chasers,” he moaned on repeat, his mind caught in the tight grip of a nightmare.

“Arrow,” I whispered, gently palming his shoulder.

His eyes flew open, and even by starlight, I saw horror blazing inside them. Fisting the sheet, his big body shook like he was having a seizure.

“It’s all right. It’s only a dream,” I said, stroking his cheek. “It’s not real.”

Why did I soothe my enemy? Not because I was falling for him. I hadn’t fooled myself into believing that, deep down, he was a man who deserved pity. No.

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