Page 31 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

“Erax—”

“Just leave me fucking be!”

“I would if you didn’t look like you were about to kill a man.” The idiot follows my line of sight, and his eyebrows lift. “Ah… Wait, is that not her uncle?” When I continue glaring at him, he says, “Fuck, Goldeye. The princess has really done a number on you.”

“Queen,” I counter, “and you have exactly five seconds to move before I cut out that useless tongue of yours and feed it to the castle cats.”

He moves aside quickly, and it’s then I notice Maelena has gone. Her uncle stands by the buffet, indulging himself. Time for some family bonding time, I think.

I ignore Noble’s remarks and march over to the uncle.

“My king.” He bows, and that familiar smile creeps over his face again.

The false one I can spot a mile off.

It’s a smile I have seen members of my grandfather’s court give when I was a child and caught them scheming against him. The kind of tight smile that barely even reaches one’s eyes. I never said anything or alerted my grandfather when I did catch people scheming against him. I stayed in the shadows and watched them fulfil their duties to the crown with that smile on their faces, all whilst plotting his demise so I could take his seat after my father died in battle when I was a child. They didn’t want another king like my grandfather. Some days I’m not sure if their efforts paid off and if I’m any better than him. But then I remind myself that no one has tried to kill me yet so that’s got to count for something. My wife seems to be their target right now, according to my spies, which is why I have since tripled my guard since bringing her here. I return her uncle’s smile just as tightly.

“Perhaps it was the light, but did I just witness you making my wife cry on our wedding day?”

“Forgive me, my king. It appears Maelena still looks to the past when she should be embracing the future, and I simply reminded her of that.”

I nod, tightening my hands behind my back. I can’t blame her for looking back at her old life. I took it from her, and, given the chance, I’d do it again. No amount of bodies I pile at her feet will remedy that.

“It also appears that the absence of her friend opened an old wound,” he continues, snapping my interest back to him. “I had the boy escort me from our settlement. Not entirely useless, but terrified of dragons. The queen was dismayed when he did not attend the feast to congratulate her.”

The muscles in my throat tighten. I know exactly who this fuck he is referring to. The male who tried to help her escape. I recall little about him other than the way he had looked at Maelena, and the way she tried to protect him. I knew he was hidden by the crates all along, but I let her believe otherwise. I had Noble drag his ass back to the convent where, I believe, he was punished. I had wanted to kill him for nearly taking my future wife away from me.

“What is this boy’s name?” I ask, enjoying demeaning him.

No one takes my wife from me—especially not that worthless piece of shit.

“Lochlan. I hired him when… well, when things were different. Afterwards you then instructed him to assist me and the sisters at the convent as a means of protection.”

I sneer at that. “I did not think stealing qualified as protecting, or has the meaning of the word changed?”

“Of course not, Your Majesty. I made sure the boy was suitably punished for daring to steal the king’s property.”

Hearing someone else regard my wife as property pisses me off. There is also something about this male that doesn’t sit right.

I nod instead, my focus straying to the doors she left through. The clock mounted on the wall beside it next to the white stag head chimes six o’ clock. Noble had placed a bet with me that my wife would run away from the feast no later than eight o’ clock so she could barricade her room door. I said six, and it appears I was right. Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any fucking better. She’ll probably have a whole firing squad waiting for me tonight, but it won’t stop me fulfilling my duty. I’d be lying if I said I haven’t been thinking about consummating our bond, and how soft her naked body would feel under my own. And try as my new wife might, she’s thought about too. I could practically smell her need radiating from her when I kissed her. Fuck, I almost threw her off my lap and carried her to our room hours ago. It’s been fucking torture waiting. But now the torture ends.

“Make sure the boy never steps foot in this palace,” I tell him, “or I’ll have his head.”

I don’t wait for his reply. Only a fool would disobey my order.

I head to the door, grabbing a bottle of wine from a servant.

“Would you like a glass, Your Majesty?”

“I’d like another bottle.”

Another bottle is quickly given, and I leave the hall without so much as a backwards glance. I drink most of the first on my way up the endless number of staircases. Why the fuck did my grandfather build so many of them? When I enter the courtyard, the cold breeze hits, and the world around me spins. Shit!

I steady myself against a statue, the god of the sun. He looks down at me, sneers down at me, and I throw the empty wine bottle against him. I’ve always hated this statue. It was my grandfather’s favourite. I lift my robes and take my cock out, pissing against the stone.

“Nothing to see here, Burning God,” I say to the sky. “I’m just saying hello to the bastard who raised me.”

When I’m done, I wash my hands in a nearby fountain—fuck it—and open the second bottle of wine. Its half finished by the time I’m standing outside my wife’s room. I twist the handle, surprised to find it unlocked. Even more surprising are the lack of guards outside the room and the fact that my wife isn’t fucking inside.

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