Page 96 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

“Should that time come, and I don’t believe it will, Cassan is strong enough to deal with it, then,” I say, reaching for the wine a servant pours for me.

“My mate speaks the truth,” Cassan agrees. “And I will not kill my brother, anyway.”

The chamberlain opens another scroll, clearing his throat. “Luthian of Mithrax sends his regrets, as well.”

My heart plummets. There was a chance I could have seen Luthian again? Though I did not know it until now, it disappoints me so keenly that tears spring to my eyes. I take a sip of wine to cover my reaction.

“He sends a gift, though.” The chamberlain gestures across the room to another servant, who comes forward with a large, stone pot bearing a flowering shrub.

My stomach lurches and I nearly vomit the small amount of wine I’ve consumed.

The blooms are unmistakable.

“A honey flower bush?” Cassan’s brow wrinkles. “What an odd present.”

“It could be a ghoulish reference, Your Majesty,” the chamberlain suggests. “Perhaps another matter for the inquisitors.”

Cassan shakes his head. “I am not my father. I don’t take murderous offense to simple jokes. In fact, I’d like to have it planted on the spot where his ashes were buried. Luthian will find that terribly funny when he visits again. What say you, Cenere?”

I beam at him, trying to hide the effort of holding my broken heart together. Luthian will never come here again. Kathras is in exile. And I am about to become queen to a king that I can never love.

“Of all the things he could have sent.” Cassan half-smiles in amusement. “Honey flower.”

Chapter Forty-One

I cannot sleep, and my restlessness leads me to the horrible, mirrored bedroom once more. There is nothing for me there but horrid memories. Thrace’s head presented to me, stealing my dreams. Bathing the poisoned honey and the king’s blood from my body in the water from the faery baths. Even that water reminds me of Kathras.

There is nothing at court, however, to remind me of Luthian. At least, there wasn’t, before he sent the honey flower bush.

Was that his purpose? To hurt me? To remind me of him, every time I see it?

He knows I love him. He loves me. And yet, I stand on the precipice of an event that will forever change my life, and he does nothing. Worse than nothing. He mocks me for it with his cruel gift.

I don’t know what intent brought me to the queen’s chambers, but I do remember where Parphia’s journal is hidden. That is a link to Luthian, I realize. I can feel his love through the dead queen’s words. A love that I wished to have, but which he refused to give me.

He can’t stop me from loving him. And he can’t stop me from reading what it would be like to be loved by him.

I sit on the bed and pull the journal from its hiding place inside a pillow cover. I worried for a time that it would be found in my possession, but I couldn’t let it go. Now that I know Cassan better, I’m certain he will not punish me for having the journal, but I’ll still keep it a secret. Something of my own, my private connection to Luthian.

I open to a page at random and read.

Never have I experienced such a perfect day. We made love in the grove of sweet trees, while their petals fell all around us. Luthian never rushes our pleasure. Today, he took his time touching every part of me, leaving the most delicious places until the last, and then he explored those with his lips and tongue. I have never experienced rapture with Arcus the way I experience it with Luthian.

Perhaps, she should have tried killing him. That certainly brought me pleasure.

The entry goes on. I told Luthian how I begged Arcus for a child. His sons are all he needs to secure his line. How I envy their mother, for she knew the joy of bearing their creation light. Luthian won’t give me a child, either; he says it’s too cruel to bring another faery into the court while Arcus rules it. But when I imagine who that faery might be, I see her so clearly. Skin of snow, hair of fire, beauty that will bring the court to its knees.

The queen wanted a child, and Luthian refused her? I know nothing of faery conception, beyond the need for living essence, or what it might mean for him to make that refusal, but he granted my mother’s wish, didn’t he?

But then, my mother was not a part of Arcus’s court, and he was never any danger to me.

“You were born for it.”

The words taunt me. No, Arcus was inevitable. Luthian had been patient, far beyond the boundaries of time, and carefully planned to bring me to this place, simply to kill the king he loathed.

But for all the love he bore Parphia, he did not give her a child, for the next entry reads, Luthian will not budge in his stance against my child. It isn’t fair that Arcus should have two and I should have none at all. If he will not help me, there are hundreds of courtiers who will. I will order one to my bed and take his light. I will have my daughter. I will have my princess. All I need do is convince Arcus that it happened while he was too drunk to control himself and he spilled living essence. That I begged him not to, and that my pleas drove him into a lustful frenzy. He will not disbelieve that. It’s too like him.

I devour the next entries. Parphia’s selection of a young faery with the attributes she desired in her child. Copper hair, pale skin, a wry smile and laughing eyes. She took him in the labyrinth, during the monthly ritual, and commanded him to give her his living essence.

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