Page 29 of King of Pride and Talons

Thorne could feel his shirt sticking to his lower back as sweat began to pool there. He decided once they were finished in the gardens to show Breya around some of the more luxurious sides of town—the areas where only the most affluent could enter.

They visited a jewelry vendor set up under a tent with open sides.

“I had no idea it was… so scorching here," she said.

“It can be. Unfortunately, you arrived at the beginning of a heat wave."

He gave her a wink. Breya didn't exactly recoil, but she didn’t open to him either. The king was going to have to take out the big guns and spoil his woman.

He swept his hand around the tables, pointing at the various extravagant pieces that barely a handful of citizens in Savanna could afford. In fact, the jeweler was looking a little flustered by their presence.

“My King, My King, what can I do for you today?” the balding man asked, dabbing his forehead of invisible sweat.

"I am looking for a piece fit for a queen,” he said, his voice booming through the establishment. "My Queen Breya."

He gazed at her with pride. Breya bowed her head meekly.

“Oh, oh! I have just the thing."

The jeweler rushed out of their sight. Vale walked around, having left the other enforcers out in the blistering heat. The king stood before Breya, her eyes round and timid, and swept the cascade of ringlets from one side of her neck to the other. Little beads of sweat gathered around the pinnacle of her bosom, slipping down into the abyss.

“Thorne, what are you doing?” she asked cautiously.

The jeweler returned with a black silk box in hand. He cracked it open carefully.

He revealed to them just what the king had anticipated. An emerald and diamond necklace. It shined out of the box like treasure, and for a second, Thorne thought that Breya was going to faint.

“That’s…” she stuttered, face gone chalky. "What are you..."

The king gently lifted the ornate piece from its box, then let the emerald gemstones kiss the cool skin of Breya’s chest. He reached around her head and clasped it, taking a step back to look her over in astonishment.

“It reminded me of your eyes. Not as gorgeous but damn near close to."

Her reaction wasn't as he had conjured in his mind. He didn't think of Breya as a vain person, but what woman, especially a witch from some stray boring human village, wouldn’t be pleased by the sight of real diamonds dancing along her neckline?

Breya lifted a finger to trace along the bottom of the chain, but she did not touch it. Thorne only had one thing left to do.

“Billy, give me the price. Get this necklace ready for my queen.”

Breya was looking ghostly, her mouth gaped open in stunned silence.

SIXTEEN

BREYA

Breya started feeling uncomfortable after they toured the healing center. The shifters who were hurt from the quake itself seemed appreciative of her presence, but the healers and assistants made her uncomfortable.

That wasn't something the witch could easily relay to the king as they did their rounds. He was oblivious, somewhat, stuck in his own royal bubble where subjects wouldn’t dare whisper anything remotely off base.

Then, he’d purchased her the necklace. It was dazzlingly beautiful, and the cost had a nightmarish quality to it. But he bought it so casually, which left Breya in a cross mood.

He had noticed that she was bothered earlier, as much as she tried to hide it, then during the rest of their visits. He then took it upon himself to travel to a rich part of town and buy off her comfort and affection. It was all too much, spinning like a torrid of uncertainty in Breya's belly.

The heat wasn't helping. She wasn't used to such intensity, having gone from the mild and standard four seasons back in her home village. Despite the thinness of the fabric she was wearing, Breya felt like she was being drained from top to bottom.

The jewelry excursion had left her feeling stale, so she asked Thorne if they could go for lunch next. He obliged happily, chuffed with himself for having purchased his potential queen something so excessively grand. She could feel his pride leaching through his skin along with the sweat that laced around his forehead like an unseen crown.

That was also what put her off--his inability to read her body language and mood. She wasn’t one to sulk, but Thorne's practice of casting aside inconvenient concerns was positively stupefying.

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