Page 8 of The Bone King and the Starling

The king hails both and they arrive in a large flagon and a pitcher just like the one I’d been carrying around the room. The irony is not lost on me as a thrall called Mikas pours ale into the king’s wooden cup now. I reach for the pitcher of wine to pour myself a cup, but the king bats my hand to the side.

Successfully scolded, I feel my cheeks warm. The king says gently, “Apologies, little bird. I did not mean to dismiss you, I just wanted to be the one to pour your wine.” I watch him do just that, an act that I can see draws eyes from the warriors seated at the front tables closest to us. My blush is pronounced, I’m sure. “Do you forgive me?”

I sit up straight, as if stuck by a pin, and meet his gaze. He’s smiling at me softly and brings the wooden cup to my bottom lip. “O-of course, my king.”

His nostrils flare slightly as he offers me wine. Alarmed and uncomfortable as I am, I drink from his cup gluttonously. I drink nearly two cups of wine in between bites of meat, potatoes and other vegetables. I’m slowing, my stomach heavy with how much I’ve eaten. My back is more arched and I find myself, appallingly, leaning more and more of my weight against his chest.

He does not comment on it. Instead, he calls to the thrall that passes. “Sweet cake for my female.”

It’s Elena. She doesn’t look at the king as she follows through on his command. She doesn’t look at me either as she sets the flat braided loaf down on the table before the king and me, and I feel terribly alone. Elena is of a higher position in the village than I — most everyone is — but there’s no chance she has ever had an entire sweet cake to sample before. Guilt makes my stomach roll as Elena bustles off. Looking past her, I try to see Ebanora in the crowd, but she’s too far in the back of the room.

The sound of something falling pulls my attention to the table nearest the high table and the warriors seated along it. Tori catches my gaze first. He is seated right there at the end of the table, glaring at me and the king’s hand on my shoulder. The king doesn't notice, but continues kneading my upper back in a way that feels like trouble. All of his subtle ministrations are working together to make me feel more and more relaxed. So relaxed that I do the unthinkable. I place my cheek on the king’s shoulder and use his body and beard to block Tori from sight.

The king tenses beneath me, but only for a moment. “Are you tired?”

“No, my king,” I whisper. And it’s true. My body may be relaxed, but my mind is racing, my heart is pattering. I am a bundle of nerves.

“Shall I serve you your sweet cake?” the king prompts, but I shake my head. He picks my sticky hand up from my lap and smooths his thumb across my dirty palm. “You treasure it when it comes from your little friend, but not when it comes from your king?”

I feel like I’m being trapped, slowly cornered by a much larger predator. And I fear how he knows where I acquired my treat. Will he punish Ebanora? Was he watching her? No. I already know the answer to that. He was watching me.

I should just eat. It’s an enormous offering, one I likely won’t ever get again. But my stomach — irrespective of the guilt andthe nerves — has been filled with more food than it ever has been before in one sitting. I can feel the bulge of my stomach below my belly button. It’s strange, and inside, the pressure borders on unpleasant.

Holding my stomach, I dare a trembling whisper, “I have never eaten so much, my king. I want to, but I don’t know how I could eat more without being sick.”

He makes a gruff sound, his arms shifting around my body even tighter. He holds me fast against his chest while my head spins and my body fights against this strange sensation… Ease. If I let myself, it would be so easy to imagine that this was real, that he was a male I could trust, that here in his arms, Tori could never touch me. That I’d never feel hunger or cold again. That I’d be safe. The sensation is so powerful it nearly brings tears to my eyes and I sniffle.

The king suddenly grabs my jaw and tilts my face up. He glares down into my eyes, his mouth severe, and he hisses, “Have I upset you, little bird?”

I shake my head, feeling caught and very much like I will cry. “No, my king.”

“Speak to me truthfully. I wish to make no mistakes with you. Some are inevitable, but where I can avoid them, I plan to.” His arm on my back pulls me in tight and I do something terrifying — more terrifying than trying to make sense of what’s happening.

I give myself a small gift, a luxury unlike any I could have ever fathomed this morning. I…pretend. I pretend that I’m not a thrall and that this isn’t wrong and confusing, and I pretend that Tori can no longer bother me because I am safe here. I no longer dwell on the fact that I will likely, hopefully, be well compensated for whatever the king should choose to do to me tonight. I pretend that I’m not afraid of losing my virginity to such a large, virile male and pretend, for just this moment, thatthis is okay. I let myself feel all the warmth and contentment I’ve been too frightened to feel.

It’ll just be this once.

Just this once.

And then never again.

So, for now, I can allow myself this gift, one I’m gifting to myself. The ability to enjoy the king’s warmth and to enjoy this fullness and contentment.

I blink quickly and suck in a shaky breath and then I…smile very slightly. The king tenses, but I don’t think too much about that and say, “It is only that…I am not used to feeling like this, my king.”

“Like what, little bird?” He sits up straighter, forcing me to lean back to see his face. His huge arm braces my spine and his hand comes up to support the back of my head.

“Sheltered.”

The king shudders visibly from his head to his toes. He emits a low growl in the back of his throat, tilts his face up towards the ceiling and whispers words under his breath too quietly for me to catch before abruptly returning to me. He swoops down, arching his back so that he can press his forehead to mine directly. I gasp. We are so close, nearly nose to nose. His eyes are closed and his lips are slack and smell like the rich spices from the wine.

He tips his mouth down and it suddenly occurs to me that he’s seeking…asking…for a kiss from me. He…wants to kiss me. I don’t know why that comes as such a shock — it is, after all, the reason he wanted a female for the night — to rut. A surge of nerves pass through me and I clench my knees together tight, clench my skirts in a fist and inhale. Pretend. I pretend that I’ve done this before, many times. I don’t want to displease him. But the truth is that I’ve never kissed a male before in my life…

I tilt my face up, hoping he’ll take control and show me what to do, but the moment his dry lips alight on mine, he abruptly jerks. The king pulls back and looks over his shoulder and I sit, stewing in the butterflies that have overwhelmed me as I watch Chief Olec clap the king on the back again. The king does not look pleased and I don’t miss the grunted laughter from the king’s warriors seated at the table behind me. Embarrassment washes over me.

“I was just talking to Torbun here about the power females hold over us. Remarkable, isn’t it? That the lesser sex could turn the heads of even kings!” Chief Olec brings his ale to his mouth and spills half of it down his chest and beard.

“You’ve made a fine choice, my liege,” Torbun says, leaning past the chief and his wife to be seen by King Calai. “My wife has always said that with a bit of cleaning up, this young thrall would make any man a fine companion.” A fine companion. Not a wife. I drop my gaze to my knees as pretending becomes a little more difficult.

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