Page 25 of The Cursed Crown

"Dance with me," he repeated. "And watch the seelie lords trip over themselves to cover you in blandishments, in their eagerness to win your favor."

Now, she snorted.

Right.

"Just as soon as a pair of wings grow out of your horse's arse."

"If you're certain, then let us play this game. When I win, you'll do as I say for the rest of the night without a word of protest."

"And if I win?"

He waved his hand, unconcerned. "Claim whatever prize your heart may desire."

In short, he was utterly certain of himself. Which showed just how little he knew of seelie lords.

What did Rissa want of Rydekar? The thought that flashed in her mind set her cheeks on fire.

"Now that's interesting."

She gritted her teeth. "Stay out of my mind."

"Make me."

She snatched her hand back, and Rydekar chuckled. "Then it's settled. If you win, I'll kneel at your feet, spread your legs, and feast upon you until you scream my name."

"I'll pass. You canjustkneel. In public," she added, intuiting just how painful that would be for him.

He shrugged. "You should ask for my throne while you're at it. You won't win."

They’d see.

The Gold of Volderas

Ajolt of energy traveled south the moment he took her hand. Rissa’s skin was too soft, too warm under his fingertips. Ignoring it, Rydekar guided her through the vast circular room.

He inclined his head slightly as dresses kissed the floor and knees hit the ground. Though they bowed to him, the court’s eyes were on his radiant partner, full of wonder and mischief.

She was a delight, perfectly mysterious, powerful, and with a name to match the high king’s legacy. In another world, she might have had a true place here by his side, his hand on the small of her back, brushing her feathers like he had a right to.

Rydekar only had to lift one hand—the bows and strings interrupted their chamber music to launch into a jig, to the delight of his subjects. Lords and urchins started to clap in time with the violins.

Detaching herself from him, Rissa stepped out of his grasp, to his annoyance. Then she plunged into the deepest of curtsies, and the clear view of her deep neckline cured him of any ire. No high fae should boast curves like hers.

She rose in one fluid motion, placing her left hand at her heart, and lifting the right in an impeccable posture. Then she danced. She danced like she was alone in the world, and didn’t care for the eyes on her. She danced like she was a goddess and he, an unworthy mendicant. He should have known she wouldn’t let him lead.Thebrat.

Shaking his head, more amused than put out, he stepped into her space with the aplomb of someone who didn’t doubt he belonged there, and took her hand. She was agile and confident on her own—a well-bred fairy princess—but with him? She was wild, jumping in the air, pirouetting to get away. As she twirled, he slid his arm around her waist, wordlessly taking control. He felt it when she gave in, when she accepted his hands, his control. Rydekar kept her flush against his chest, heart beating against hers in a rhythm too erratic.

“Do you truly think that you’re going to convince anyone with this act?” she whispered low—yet too loud in a room full of fair folk.

At least she had the sense to avoid airing the whole of their business in public.

“Everything doesn’t have to be a battle, Serissa. Some things are rather simple.” Yet as the words crossed his lips, he knew that this, his touching her, embracing her, was far from simple.

He was drawn to her like a moth to flame, but she’d burn him given half a chance, and he was sending her to her death.

Allowing her to run toward her death, specifically. Was there any difference, though?

She snorted, calling him out of his nonsensical musings.

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