Page 100 of Of Rime and Ruin
I glance up, magnetized to the sight of Nahla several paces away. Her curls lay frizzy over her shoulders, spilling down her back, that hat still ridiculously askew. Hope flares, hot and dangerous.
She’s safe with me.
I don’t have to protect her from myself, only an exterior force—a monsterout thereis easier to subdue.
Nahla looks over her shoulder, and her gaze bores to the back of my head. Scales stand on my neck as an intense wave of curiosity washes through my mind. Interest. Irritation. The feelings are foreign and feminine, originating outside myself.
I frown, trying and failing to wrench my gaze from her face. The corner of her mouth lifts, just so.
Is this feeling…hers?
“Sire?” the captain prods. “Should I wait on the report?”
Nahla turns away, finally, and follows Deirdre. With each step she takes, the strange feelings lessen. Her hips twitch with the confidence of a female up to no good.
“Now is fine,” I snap at the captain.
“It’s good news, Your Majesty. There have been no killings since four days past, you’ll be pleased to know.”
My stomach flips. I squeeze my eyes shut. Every muscle in my body strings taut.
Fuck.
The wall tips closer as my body sags against it, my weight suddenly too heavy to bear.
No killings can only mean one thing: I am to blame—for everything. No one can die if you take the villain away.
I inhale, drawing the breath through the length of my body, as the familiar rage burns. I should have seen it coming. Shouldn’t have let myself hope.
Lucas’s hand clamps on my shoulder, steadying and firm. “Your Majesty? This is excellent news.”
“Yes.” I force my reply through clenched teeth. “Thank you, Captain. Let’s hope the good streak continues.”
Nothing has changed. I am a liability, a risk to my kingdom, and there’s nothing I can do but return to my cage.
***
“Howdiditgo,Your Majesty?” Deirdre asks. She stands in my bedroom doorway, propping the door open with her hip. On the other hip, she balances a basket full of my clean laundry. My housekeeper doesn’t wait for my answer before she pushes into the room, making quick strides toward my wardrobe.
The light of my new sight-pool fades as I disconnect the spell. All is as it should be, just as the captain said.
Fuck.
“An excellent hunt.” I force a grin, standing to intercept her. “Thank you.”
We’ve been home for a few hours, and I’m already spiraling. Gone is the lightness in my chest, the blissful ignorance of the hunt.
Deirdre’s eyes narrow as I take the laundry basket from her.
“That’s great,” she says. She watches as I lift the first crisp shirt from the pile and hang it in my wardrobe. My fingers fumble with the buttons, fastening them lopsided.
I don’t give a fuck. I need something to do with my hands. They tighten around the fabric, wrinkling the linen.
“Are you okay, Sire?” Deirdre asks. “That’s my job.”
“Hm?”
She takes the shirt from me and unfastens the buttons, adjusts the hem, and buttons it the right way. “You’re in a mood.”
