Page 30 of Heir to His Court

An electric jolt of power rushes toward me—in water. I grit my teeth. Stings like a bitch. Fine. Don’t askthatquestion. No problem. I have another question.

“Why do you love me? You're an Old One and I'm me.” I need to delve to the bottom of those ulterior motives Maman spoke of. “What advantage is in it for you? What power?”

“Why is the sun warm? Why is the ocean deep, and why doIlove Aerinne Nyawira Wairumu Kuthliele?” He laughs, soft and bitter and emphatic. “Some things simply are. Some things defy explanation. I am too old to waste time attempting to understand what cannot be understood.”

My anger is gone, just like that. How easily he manipulates me. I know it, and I can’t guard against him. He is strength and poetry, dominance and submission. The dragon curled at my feet, never tamed, but. . .mine.

By his choice, mine.

I close my eyes for a moment, and when I reopen them, he turns in the water, facing me. “I do not care why. I am content with my fate. But I did not bring you here to speak of this. We willnotspeak of it, Aerinne.”

The last sentence is said in the precise, autocratic voice I have never once defied. The Prince of Everenne, the General of Ninephe, the Lord of Avallonne. Not a male you press after he shuts you down.

I shrug. “Fine. I'm done swimming anyway. I want to go into the castle.”

We swim back to shore and make the trek across the beach and up cliffside stairs carved into the stone millennia ago, worn smooth by countless footsteps. Dangerous if one is wet and drunk.

Entering the castle, the part of it that's not in ruins, I retreat to my personal chamber and rinse off, braid my hair, then chose a dress from the wardrobe. The dress is white, a long summer sheath in the Avallonnian style, fabric almost sheer in direct sunlight, the torso bound by a narrow fabric sash. It is reminiscent of the ancient Eqyptian sheath, humans who derived some of their customs from Avallonne.

Raniel turns when I walk into the great room, stares at me a second, then bows. I return it smoothly. Every adult in my life is obsessed with Court etiquette like it saves lives. A long wrap of similar fabric to my dress is bound at his waist with a silver and turquoise belt, his chest bare except for the heavily jeweled necklace draped over his collarbones. In Everenne Court robes are thicker, but it’s hot in Avellonne now, and neither of us wants to be swathed in layers of high necked, full sleeved brocades.

Raniel approaches with the smile of an affectionate older cousin. I narrow my eyes because he’s linedhisin thick kohl—and with his hair wild down his back he must know how devastating he looks. He’s taunting me. Or maybe he’s trying to give me a reason to wait for him.

Right. I can play that game, too.

His thumb brushes my cheek. “You look lovely, Aerinne. Your Court form is improving. You will be devastating when you are grown.”

I don't like his expression, the expression that says he's pretending like I couldn’t turn all that devastation on himnow. He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek but I turn my head so his lips brush against mine. He freezes, then is gone. I don’t see him move, but he is back by his couch, his expression pleasant. His eyes not quite so pleasant.

Some of my triumph fades and I look down at the floor. I shouldn’t have done that. He’s already said no, not till I’m older, and forcing him to kiss me—

“Apologies,” I mutter. “You started it, though.”

“Oh?”

His voice cools, and I'm tempted to needle him because Raniel's temper is as hot as my own and I know what threads to pull. I hate that he seems so calm all the time when I feel like a constant stew of bubbling emotions, most of them contradicting.

“You know what you do, Raniel.”

There’s amusement on his face. This is new between us, this subtle flirting, but it feels second nature.

“Yes, I suppose I do,” he says and settles onto the other couch.

He picks up one of the crystal glasses on the low table in front of us, handing it to me. I take the glass and sip enough to be polite, then take another long sip because it's good. Some type of fruit infused chilled water.

“I'm old enough for something stronger.”

Maman lets me have a glass of wine with dinner though Baba disapproves—his Allah God does not allow it. But Fae physiology is different from human physiology, and Everenne, as the consort of a High Lord, is the wrong place to live if you want to remain a practicing Muslim. He does try.

Raniel nods toward a mosaic tiled box on the table. “I have a gift for you.”

I stare at it. “It’s a lovely box. My gratitude.”

He flashes a rare grin. “Open it,fati saha.”

“Oh.” Silly girl, indeed.

I set aside my glass and scoop up the box. The mosaics are blue and white and silver and a pale blush pink. I open the lid and find two silver and lapis lazuli engraved cuffs in the blue velvet lining.

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