Page 92 of The Kingdom Cursed By Iron

“I went deeper into the metal itself. Its texture changed and I saw details I hadn’t before.”

“Exactly,” he says, waving the stick at me until I take the hint and take it off him. “Keep going, and you’ll hit the cells eventually. Now, you’ll need to have a short rest after this. Your magic is probably drained from the intensity of the work and needs time to replenish.”

I look at the stick, bewildered. “And this is for…?”

“To reach high places,” he says. “I need my cup back.”

After retrieving Maidar’s cup, I head back to our chambers near the court. Ruskin is there, waiting for me by the door to my room.

“How did it go?” he asks.

“Fine. I’m learning something, I just hope it’s actually useful for what we’re trying to do.”

“If Maidar thinks it is, then I believe him,” Ruskin says.

We’ve been distant with each other since our argument about the naminai bond. I haven’t enjoyed it, but I also don’t know what to say to him. Ruskin’s stayed his closed off self, and I’ve been too busy training to consider trying to scale his walls. Even if he did open up, I’m not sure where we’d go from there. Nothing’s changed.

I enter my room, and he follows me inside. It makes me idly wonder if he’s confined himself to his own room all day. From what I can tell, he’s barely been out since I started training, except to visit Maidar with me. I know that Lisinder probably has people watching us, but that doesn’t stop us moving around the court. If I were Ruskin, I’d want to explore this place—this side of my heritage—and I wonder what’s stopping him from doing so.

“My uncle’s invited us to dinner,” he says.

I weigh this up. “Do you think he’s just being hospitable, or does he have an agenda?”

“Both, probably, but I don’t see that as a bad thing. I’d be the same.”

“All right,” I say, crossing to the dressing table and starting to brush my hair. I’m eager to get this conversation over with. I hate how stilted our interactions have become.

“Should I wear something in particular? I didn’t bring any fancy clothes.”

I’m focused on my own face, so I don’t see him come up behind me in the mirror until he’s close. He catches a lock of my golden hair, feeling it between his fingers.

“I know for a fact you’d look beautiful in whatever you wore,” he says, the warmth of his breath on my neck making me shiver. “But Lisinder took care of everything. Check the closet.”

I don’t immediately move, closing my eyes instead, trying to center myself. It’s hard, almost impossibly so, especially with him still standing so close to me.

“Ruskin, you can’t do that,” I say, my voice tight.

“Do what?” he asks in a low voice. He crouches behind me, and his fingers drop from my hair to my neck, massaging the tense muscles there, encircling them to brush a thumb against my throat. I offer no resistance. I crane my head back, wanting more in spite of myself.

When I open my eyes and meet his gaze in the mirror, I see the fire flickering within, a dangerous heat that’s not yet reached its full potential.

“You know what.”

He knows exactly what he’s doing when he talks to me—touches me—like this. He’s reminding me of what I’m missing. Perhaps even punishing me a bit for what I said in our argument. If we’re going to dine with the Unseelie, I need my wits about me, but Ruskin comes with his own dangers. There’s no defense against how much I want him, and he’s so aware of it.

“Fine,” he says, and I watch him lower his face to the crook of my neck, still stretched out and exposed for him, because stars help me, I can’t bring myself to move it, to push him away. “Let’s say I do know what you’re referring to.” His lips are so close to my skin they brush against it as he speaks. Then he lowers them to the sensitive flesh there, making it goose pimple as kisses it, tracing a line over my throat. His hand moves as he does, sliding the fabric of my dress aside, exposing my shoulder so he can keep trailing kisses along it. It makes me painfully aware of every nerve ending I have there, coaxed to life under his soft caresses. “Why would that be such a bad thing?” He finishes his exploration with a flash of teeth, nipping at the skin near my collarbone—a split-second of pain after the pleasure. I inhale sharply, unsure I’m a match for this game he’s playing.

“Because…” I say, noticing how breathy my voice is. His hand glides over to my other shoulder, slowly sliding down my dress sleeve to expose that shoulder too. I try to focus, finding my words.

“Because it’s not fair,” I say. At least the words come out clearly enough. He stops, watching my face in the mirror.

“To whom?” he asks.

“To both of us,” I say, hating the truth of it as my body twitches for more of his attentions. “What about the naminai bond?”

I see the fire in his eyes flare for a moment, then die down, but he doesn’t look away from me.

“What about it? I thought you weren’t interested in that. You made that clear enough the other day.”

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