Page 58 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

Possession.

Luthian kisses me to claim me, just as Kathras, I’m now certain, meant to fuck the memory of his father’s cock from me.

Tears sting the corners of my eyes. Luthian wants me. Not just my body, not just the prize between my legs that everyone at court covets. He wants to protect me, to care for me.

He wants me.

I whimper against his mouth.

The spell is broken.

He pulls back, gasping. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I—”

“We should get you healed and cleaned up.” He straightens his soaked, ruined coat, then summons another, stiffer and more starched than the last. It’s as if he’s donning armor against the very idea of wanting me. He finds the soap and sponge and kneels beside the tub. “Give me your hand.”

Slowly and methodically, he washes the dirt from my skin and makes my scrapes disappear. He picks twigs from my hair and washes my curls thoroughly, and when I am clean and whole again, he lifts me from the tub and magics me dry before putting me to sleep in his huge, empty bed.

I reach for him. “You don’t have to go.”

“I have business to attend,” he says. “Sleep for as long as you need to.”

“Please,” I say, my eyes filling with tears. “Please, stop pretending that you don’t—”

“Sleep,” he says, waving his hand, and I cannot resist his command.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Luthian’s spell wears off at dawn. I feel drugged and drowsy from too much slumber and confused and disappointed to find myself in my own bed. I cannot help but imagine what it would be like to sleep in his arms and wake with our legs wound together.

I console myself by thinking that I would get tangled in his hair, anyway, and so it’s all for the better that I woke alone.

Since we no longer have Brujon, breakfast is served in the great hall, where Luthian conjures our food. He’s waiting at the head of a table laden with fruit and pastries, and the strong beanstalk tea that he prefers. I wrinkle my nose at the smell as I take my chair.

“Feeling better?” he asks.

Better than when you rejected and ensorcelled me? I smile and nod, reaching for a decanter of juice as if nothing is amiss.

“Good. The king wishes to take you riding this afternoon.” Luthian passes me a plate of flaky, moon-shaped biscuits.

I frown and select one of the rolls. “Is that a euphemism?”

“Probably. I advise you to prepare for that eventuality. But I have it from a trusted source that Arcus is quite smitten with you. He may actually wish to talk.”

A cold sweat pops out on my brow. “We’ve never practiced that.”

Luthian barks a laugh. “And yet you’re so prolific.”

I nudge his ankle threateningly with the toe of my slipper. “You know that isn’t what I mean. What do I tell him? Should I have a history? What if he asks how we met?”

“Tell him you met me at the tree beside your mother’s grave. That your sobs were so piteous, it moved my heart.” Luthian shrugs.

“Will he believe that?” I am incredulous.

“It doesn’t matter if he believes it, when it’s the truth.” He emphasizes the last word. “As for your background, I’ve put it about that you’re a changeling. Your mother asked me for a child, and I gave her one. You needn’t tell them more than that.”

“Why not?”

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