Page 3 of A Kingdom of Pleasure and Torment

He nods, the corners of his mouth curling up in mischievous acknowledgement.

“I know better than to eat or drink anything.” But my mouth becomes more parched the longer I stare at the glass.

“You’re here as my guest. I would not trick you into staying forever.” He leans forward and presses the cup into my hand. “Not for lack of wanting. But I can’t, even though you are…”

His eyes rake down my body.

The nightgown is thin. I grip the front of the robe closed with one hand. “Why couldn’t you trick me into staying? Not that I’d prefer it. But why did you even appear to me, at all?”

“The deal I made with your mother.” He waves his fingers at the glass. “You can trust me. You must be thirsty, after your run.”

“You saw me?” I wet my lips before I touch them to the rim of the glass. Whatever is inside smells fruity and sweet and cold, and my sandy throat can’t resist it any longer. I take a huge gulp.

“I knew it would only be a matter of time until the cenere tree drew its namesake,” he says, a lazy, predatory smile growing across his face. “Destiny is a force one cannot ignore.”

“Destiny?” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and I’m instantly mortified at my lack of manners. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s nothing,” he assures me. “Your mother told you about your conception, yes?”

“She wished at the cenere tree and was granted a child.”

“She left out an important part of the tale.” He plucks another glass from the air and swirls the liquid inside. “I offered her three wishes. She only used one. The rest pass on to the next in her line.”

I can’t think up any words. I point to my chest.

“Exactly.” He sips from his glass. “As your faery guardian, it is my job to make your two wishes come true.”

Two wishes? Even just one wish is unthinkable. Wishes are rarely granted, and certainly never to unimportant people like me.

“You don’t have to use them today,” he begins. “In fact, I have a proposal—”

I don’t hesitate; I don’t hope, either. Wishes and magic only go so far, and I know the moment I utter the words that my wish can never be. “I wish my mother was alive again.”

Sadness flickers across his face like cold flame. We both know his answer before he speaks it. “Everyone knows that a wish cannot restore life once the spirit leaves this sphere.”

“Then I wish Cadwyn Thrace dead!” I blurt.

“Death?” Luthian blinks at me. “Death, then? Not something more… satisfying?”

“I…” Now that he mentions it, maybe it is a little too simple. “Can I take it back?”

“I didn’t hear a thing,” Luthian says somberly. “But may I offer you an alternate deal?”

I nod, ashamed to have jumped in so quickly to wishing. I’m one of a very lucky few. Wishes don’t happen every day. I need to think carefully, view my requests from every possible angle. Wishes do go wrong.

All it takes is a blink, and Luthian stands beside me, one long-fingered hand walking on its tips from my chin to my collar bones. “You could wish for his death, but I would personally find it too quick. It’s a sentence, not revenge.”

Revenge. The possibility lights a poisoned flame in my heart.

“You could wish for power. You could wish for riches,” he goes on.

“Power comes with riches,” I counter.

His beautiful mouth grins wide and he’s close enough that I feel his breath against my cheek when he speaks. “You’re clever. That cleverness means you won’t choose incorrectly.”

Luthian crouches in front of me with the long-limbed grace of a spider. “Wishes are powerful. And rare. Why would you waste them on something so petty as revenge? Or riches, which will only make you more attractive to your enemy?”

I get the distinct feeling that he’s trying to pull some fae trickery. “Why should you be so set upon me retaining my wishes? So that you don’t have to grant them?”

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