Page 65 of The Horned King

There Elva stands, hair even bigger than I've seen it since she arrived, each blonde wave so perfectly framing her face. There are just a few little red clips or something in it, keeping it out of her eyes. She's wearing pants today, my favorite deep red that slightly resembles her cheeks now, though anger is the furthest thing from her expression.

The shirt she chose is jet black, dotted with a red pattern that matches her pants and hair clips. "Shall we go?" she asks, pulling me from what was probably a very indecent perusal.

Standing and wiping off the sugar Raya got all over me, I nod towards my bedroom. "We'll leave through the passage this way, lest we run into any of our other houseguests."

"Oh." Understanding dawns as she follows behind me. "Right."

"It won't be any brighter now than the last time we went through, and the sun will render you twice as blind as the moon did." I chuckle, remembering her hiss of pain when we exited it only a few weeks ago.

"Fantastic," she tries to be sarcastic, but her excitement takes over any other emotion she might even attempt to have.

As we walk by my bed, my eyes drift to it, thinking of how last time she was in here, I had thrown her onto it, both of us so flushed and full of desire it was painful to push through it and leave to meet Maren. Her steps slow, and I notice she, too, is looking at it.

It's impossible to see her gazing at it and not think of how I last left her in her bed, writhing and so indecently wet, pleading for me. That was cruel, but gods above, it was so incredible. I'm tempted to see how I could make her beg again, pull those beautiful, needy whimpers from her again.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I continue on, pretending not to notice her errant, wandering eyes. Pursuing this overwhelming attraction before earning her trust would be futile. Her body may be mine already, but I want everything. And I'll have it, one way or another.

Opening the hidden door, I hold it open for her, and she demurely sneaks under my arm, a shy smile on her face as she does. Silently, we trek through the tunnel, the damp air and slimy floor squishing beneath our feet. Only once does she slip, catching herself on the wall and muttering a quiet "fuck".

I bite my lips to keep from laughing, only barely managing to do so. At the end of the 10-minute walk, we finally reach the end, the light from outside peeking in from the edges of the false rock covering the opening. I reach out, finding one of her hands in the dark. "Close your eyes."

Using my other hand to open it, the sunshine nearly blinds me, and I stand still for a moment, adjusting. When I take a step forward, Elva comes with me, eyes still closed to dampen the overwhelming adjustment to such bright light. As I walk forward, I keep her hand in mine, and she follows, trusting me to at least guide her in this. A warmth bubbles up in my chest from this small touch she's allowing, this small show of faith in me.

I move the rock back into place, watching as Elva nearly crawls right out of her skin with anticipation. Her face is stuck in a small but exuberant smile, and her free hand refuses to stay still, popping her knuckles, fiddling with the ring on her fourth finger, then shaking out the tension.

"Can I open my eyes now?" she finally asks after a few moments of me standing there, just staring at her, soaking in the only opportunity I've had for us to just be together in weeks. There are no meetings to prepare for, no arguments to mediate—just Elva and I.

"Slowly," I warn her. Apparently, her idea of slowly is one eye and then the other, then closing them again. With a giggle, she opens them again, only squinting and holding up her free hand to block the sun. "Come on, let's get moving."

She wasn't able to see this last time we came through, but behind a very well-placed rose bush, there's the beginning of a well-groomed walking trail. I consider releasing her hand but can't seem to force myself to do so. She glances at our entwined hands, looking up at me, then continues on without argument.

"So, can you tell me where we are going yet?" she asks.

"Nope."

Her fingers start to fiddle again. "But how will I know how to act if I don't know where we're going?"

"Just be yourself." I nudge her shoulder with mine, the gesture comforting and completely unfamiliar at the same time. "This isn't anything official, nothing to be nervous about."

She nods. "Alright. No need to be nervous. Got it." I get the feeling that she's convincing herself as much as she's trying to convince me, but I let it go.

When I make it myself, the walk takes a little less than 30 minutes, but the two of us take our time, Elva stopping to look at flowers and wildlife every time she sees anything. By the time we reach our destination, it's well over an hour into the day, and the sun is rapidly reaching its peak in the sky.

The building before us is beautiful, even if only to me. It's immaculately kept up, even though every year or so, the paint tries to peel from the humidity, and the roof needs to be patched up every few months. I should tear it down and build a new one from scratch or bring the Zalig designers in to fix everything, but the anonymity of it is more important than anything else.

The yellow front door swings open, an entire horde of small children pouring out of it, screaming my name. Elva looks up at me with horror, wondering if I'm going to make good on the threat I've made of killing everyone who knows my identity. She doesn't know that this is the one place I can be Kairon and not The Horned King.

I laugh and jog away from her toward the kids barreling our way. I lower to where they can reach me, knowing the impact will hurt less that way. Within seconds, I'm tackled to the ground, the mob taking me down with no effort at all. No less than fifteen of them start yelling what they've learned this week, that Nini was a tattle-tale, but Jo deserved it because he tried to rub a booger on her cheek.

The oldest of this group, Marcus, alerts me that he dealt with Jo because Jo didn't know that you can't be mean to girls just because they're pretty. To be fair, that's a lesson someone needed to remind me of only a few weeks ago.

Speaking of, Elva stands a few yards away, jaw unhinged as she watches the chaos unfold in front of her. I allow the throngs of children to hold me down for just a minute longer before lifting them off me and standing to brush the grass and dirt off of my clothes.

"Can you guys go say hi to Miss Aistin?" I ask them, gesturing to Elva.

"Is she our new teacher?" Lane asks. "Miss Fee is so old."

I laugh. "Between you and me, Miss Fee was old even when I lived here." The children fall into fits of cackles, a few of them running over to meet Elva. Her nerves are written all over her face, and I see the problem just before it becomes one. Tiny little hands grip Elva's arms and legs, pulling on her.

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