Page 89 of A Deal with the Shadow King

I tug against his hold. “Let go of me. I’m getting my revenge.” After what he did to me, he can’t expect me to just sit there and let him get away with it. Best believe me, I’m going to make that Fae beg.

This is just a dream. If we crossed that line in the Dreaming, then it wouldn’t count, would it?

“By the spindle, kitten. I want to take you right here.” He squeezes my hands. “But I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Our noses bump. “Is it true that you can’t marry as long as the king remains single?”

A touch of regret colors his eyes. “Yes.”

Holy horses! His gaze falls on something behind me, but when I crane my neck around, I only catch a glimpse of smoke billowing through the strands of wheat. He lets go of my hands and retreats by a few inches.

Cold air washes over me, and I cover my bare breasts with one arm, exposed and vulnerable. “And does the king want to marry me?” I ask, my voice barely recognizable.

He observes me with dark eyes and a darker frown. I almost think he’s going to answer, but he moves to disentangle himself from my embrace instead. “I have to leave.”

I grip his shirt to delay his escape. “What happened to the king? Why does he need to court me? Is he really going to lose his crown?”

“Lose his crown?” his face hardens. Thick shadows hover around him, agitated and dangerous. The tendrils of smoke cradle my skin. “Who’s putting these ideas in your head? Is it Joseph?”

“Don’t be like that.” I cup the side of his face. I need him to focus on me. “I don’t want Jo. Or the king.” A blazing heat creeps up my chest. “I want you.”

A dry chuckle rocks his throat, and he shakes his head like I’m losing my mind. “Oh, kitten… What you want is impossible.”

Chapter 30

Confessions

Aloud knock on my bedroom door startles me awake. The first hints of dawn are barely visible in the night sky, and I pat down my chest, my heart hammering.

I’m in Demeter, wearing my usual nightgown—not having a midnight picnic with One in endless corn fields. What a dream… Yet, I know he was really there. If I could only get him to share his secrets, I’m sure there’d be a way for us to move forward together.

The loud knocking sounds again, and this time, I’m conscious enough to react. “Who’s there?”

“The king has asked to see you, princess. Please get dressed and come with us.”

“Now?” I inquire at the closed door, wondering what in the Mother’s name could be going on for Father to fetch me at this hour. Nothing good, I’m sure.

“Yes. Now,” the guard says plainly, clearly used to people following orders without question.

The middle of the night would be the perfect time to punish me to his heart’s content without an audience.

I shudder in the dark as I put on a heavy robe and greet the two men waiting by the door with a serious nod. “Take me to him.”

Father is waiting for me in his sitting room, and I offer him a small curtsy as I wait for our audience to leave. Gloomy fog sticks to the stained glass of the large checkered windows, and the wax of the candles has run over the rim of the chandeliers. He’s been in here all night, and judging by the number of empty bottles on the table, he’s drunk.

“Here I was, catching up on my duties, when I found this.” He waves a letter at me. The thick wax seal is already broken.

“What is it?” I ask calmly.

The dark tremble of his voice makes me quake. “It’s a letter from the Duke, inviting me to his son Isaac's engagement party.”

My breath catches, and I bite down on my bottom lip not to grimace. “Engagement? To whom?”

“Abigail Strauss.” His bushy brows pull together in a line that spells ultimate trouble, his grip loose on the brass cup. “What did you do?”

Tears prickle my eyes. Isaac is engaged? How? When? But no matter how slighted I feel by the revelation, it’s the least of my problems.

“What did you do?” he repeats, venomous.

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