Page 33 of The Bone King and the Starling

Our village has always been poor. I thought…that was simply our lot. I did not know that Rudabeth, a thriving city I’ve heard spectacular stories about, was what we could have looked like. I swallow hard and reach for the cup of murky liquid on the table beside the bed. “I believe you, Calai,” I whisper.

His ensuing smile is worth the nerves using his true name costs me. He pours himself a large cup of ale, takes a draught, sets it down on the table beside my bed with a loud thunk.

“Since maintaining their duties is not a long-term solution, I have encouraged the thralls to rethink what it is they would like to contribute to the economy of this place. I’ve set Elnis, one ofmy men, in charge of offering small loans to those who believe they may have competitive ideas for new businesses. He helps run the coffers in Ithanuir. Is there someone in Winterbren who might help him? It’s good to know the characters of those interested in applying — those who are serious and capable compared to those who intend to take the money and squander it.”

I… Is he…asking for my…advice? My jaw works and I momentarily flounder before finding my voice once more. “Rosalind is our village treasurer. She’s very secretive.” The king grunts, his face twisting in distaste as he lifts a cup of water this time, drinks from it, then offers that same cup to me. I take it, feeling unbalanced, as I do around him perpetually.

Finished, I add, “Moira might have the most useful experience with balancing books as she runs the inn just outside of town. It’s the most successful business in Winterbren and from the girls I’ve spoken to that work there, Moira is a good, fair employer.

“However, if you’re looking for someone who knows the people and can speak truthfully to their character, none would be better suited for the work than Elena, though she is — was — a thrall herself. She’s also a very talented baker. While the cooking may be best suited for someone else, if she were given a chance, I don’t doubt she’d run a successful bakery for the village.”

The king is nodding at what I’m saying, continuing to eat. And when I’ve finished speaking, he meets my gaze in a way I find frightening in its intensity. His dark eyes move to my face. He exhales deeply, the rise and fall of his chest so large it makes him look as big as a ship’s sail. Then his cheek softens, his mouth quirks to the side and he says, “Do any in this village know how bright you are?”

I feel my face heat and look away. “Thank you, my lord,” I answer on instinct.

“Calai, please.”

He sounds so sincere, so soft. I cannot imagine that this is the male they call the bone king at all. I offer him a gentle smile which causes the skin at the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “Calai,” I repeat.

“I have another predicament I’m puzzling over. I wonder if you might have some thoughts, my little queen.” I start at the moniker, but his gaze is unwavering. I don’t know what that means. “What do you know of Viccra?”

“Viccra is Torbun’s eldest son. He is our best warrior and slated to wed Ella, Chief Olec and Lady Rosalind’s eldest daughter, though…”

“Though?”

“It is nothing. Petty village gossip.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Well, it isn’t important. The marriage was planned at the time of their births, so there isn’t anything either of them could do about it. Viccra is known to be in love with Mirabel, Elena’s daughter, also a thrall. Mirabel has been beaten many times by Rosalind for the love she has for Viccra. Rosalind always felt it a slight to her daughter.”

“Pale face? Red hair?”

“Yes,” I say curiously.

“That explains it, then.” The king grins.

“Explains it?”

“Nothing. What do you think of Viccra’s character?”

“Oh. He’s a good man. Nothing like his father. Viccra has always been defiant to Olec, but more so after he returned from his year training in Ithanuir. He’s always been kind to me when many weren’t.”

“Do you think he is someone the villagers of Winterbren would follow into battle?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Do you think Olec is someone the villagers of Winterbren would follow into battle?”

I smirk. “Olec would never lead anyone into battle. He’d be in the back, issuing orders, not from a horn but from a pitcher of wine.”

The king laughs, loud and bright. It’s shocking, but I don’t jump at the sound of it this time. Instead, I laugh a little with him. “Good, very good.” He shakes his head and sits back in his seat, regarding me with affection of the purest kind. No one has ever looked at me in such a way in my life. “The gods have truly blessed me.”

I don’t answer, but track the king with my gaze as he stands, moves the tray out of his way and takes a seat at my side. His chest is very close. He is very close. He brushes his hand over my cheek and tucks my curls behind my ear. He is so gentle. And he smells so wonderful. I’ve never been stimulated by the scent of a man before, but the scent of his skin is divine and takes me straight back to the intensity of the previous night.

“I am to be a good boy today,” he huffs, gaze scanning my face. “But I’d still very much like to taste.” He leans down and his lips feather over mine in a way that has me tilting my head back, seeking more. I tilt my chin up and open my mouth, my tongue sneaking out to meet his. He moans.

His hand on my cheek hardens, a stern reminder of his size and the power he has over me, and yet, I don’t feel as frightened by it this time. Especially not when my own hand tentatively reaches out to touch his chest. It lands on his pectoral, over his armor. He wears no furs for they are spread out over my bed.

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