Page 41 of The Midnight King

A couple of the footmen posted along the steps of the palace are looking at me strangely. They’re too far away to smell me, and thanks to the cloak, they can’t see the state of my body and my dress, but they can probably tell something’s wrong with my face.

One of them looks as if he’s about to move toward me, so I say loudly, “I just need a moment,” and I turn aside off the central steps onto the snow-covered lawn and hurry toward the shadow of a giant evergreen bush shaped like a bear rearing up on its hind legs.

When I flip open my pocket watch, it’s easy to spill a few tears on the face. I smear them around with a fingertip and whisper, “Killian. Please.”

I don’t want him to see me like this. But I refuse to attend the ball with my skin raw and my dress in rags, smelling like excrement. Gilda never said that I had to enter the ballroom in this exact state—only that I must enter it several minutes after her daughters. She did command me to be rude to the Prince, though, which is a problem I’ll need to resolve once my appearance is taken care of.

I move around the bush until I’m shielded from the view of the footmen and guards. The moon is full and bright tonight, glowing on the new-fallen snow. If I weren’t so distraught, it would be beautiful.

A tall, slender male figure emerges from the darkness and strides toward me. “Celinda?”

Silently I drop the cloak and stand there exposed, my torn clothing and skin revealed by moonlight.

“Oh fuck,” Killian whispers. He moves as if to hug me, but I cringe, fearful that the contact would hurt my chafed skin.

“I’ll fucking kill that woman,” he hisses.

“You can’t, and you know it. Just help me, please.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” He waves his hand, and the scent surrounding my body dissipates, replaced with a floral fragrance. The torn parts of the dress knit themselves back together, and new pearls appear to decorate the bodice, waist, and hem.

But he doesn’t stop there. Magic swirls around my back and shoulders as he crafts something new—a magnificent collar of rigid, sparkling lace that branches outward from my shoulders and frames my face. My hair curls into golden ringlets, and sparkling bracelets appear along my arms. When I notice a glow behind me, I glance over my shoulder and see a pair of gauzy dragonfly wings waving at my back. They look as if they could have been fabricated by a skilled human, crafted of wire, gauze, and lace, sprinkled generously with glitter, but they move when I do, and I know their true source—the infinite artistry of my Faerie godfather’s creative mind.

I hold out my foot, and he transforms my plain slippers into dancing shoes that match the turquoise dress. My pocket watch becomes a necklace, turquoise stones in a silver setting.

But my skin is still raw, and the movement of the dress against my scoured legs is intensely painful.

Killian moves nearer to me, agony on his lovely face. “Now I need to heal you.”

“Please,” I whisper. “And quickly. I have to go in a few minutes.”

“Fuck.” He tilts his forehead against mine. “I’m so angry with your stepmother… I don’t think I can get hard enough to do this.”

“Please.” I sink to my knees in the snow and place my hand between his legs, rubbing lightly until his body begins to react. With shaking fingers I open his pants and take out his cock.

I haven’t touched him like this before, yet he feels familiar. When I put him between my lips, I sigh with pleasure at the warm smoothness of him, with a touch of salty precum at the tip. For a moment, I forget about the pain coursing over my skin, and I lose myself in the pleasure of tasting him, swirling my tongue around his length, sinking him deeper into my open throat.

He moans softly, and I pull back long enough to murmur, “Sorry for using you this way.”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” he says hoarsely. “I would give you much more of myself if you’d let me. I’d give you anything—fuck yes… just like that.” He groans again, his hands sunk into my hair, urging me to suck him faster. I bob my head on him, my tongue writhing, my cheeks sucking. Creamy vanilla explodes in my mouth, and I drink his release greedily, swallowing every drop.

I can feel the magic of his cum working already, soothing my pain, healing my torn skin. With a final firm suck to extract every bit of his release, I let him pop out of my mouth.

He staggers a little, breathing heavily as he refastens his pants. “God-stars, that was exquisite.”

“I need you to do something else, if you can,” I tell him. “Can you make my stepsisters and my stepmother think I’m still ragged and wounded when they see me?”

“A glamour laid upon you, just for their eyes?” he confirms, then touches both my temples and my shoulders. “It’s done.”

“Perfect. And then, I’ve also been commanded to be rude to the Prince, to deliver curses and insults whenever he speaks tome. He has been kind to me, and I believe he’s a good person, so I’d rather not hurt and offend him tonight.”

“Alright.” He frowns thoughtfully. “Ideally we’d use a spell that makes him hear only the sweetest words, no matter what is spoken to him. I think my father has something like that in his shop, but it might take me several minutes to find it.”

“Go and get it,” I say. “I have to enter the ballroom now, but I’ll avoid speaking with the Prince as long as I can.”

He hesitates. “I suppose I could have fetched one of my father’s healing candies for you, rather than coming in your mouth.”

“I preferred it this way.” My heart is too sore for a real smile, but I give him a tiny one. I love the way his face lights up when he sees it.

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