Page 70 of The Curse of a Kingdom
And she shouldn’t care! Nava had spent a good portion of the day planning how toavoidhim. She did want to tell him her life might be in danger, just in case the king decided to attack her tonight when there would be so many people he could put the blame on.
So her mind had settled on having a quick chat with her mate. It would be an in-and-out sort of conversation. “My life is in danger. Keep an eye on me, but stay away from me. I love you.”
Nava wouldn’t utter the last three words, but she would say the rest and then quickly disappear. She would not say they were soulmates when they were both in some sort of lust frenzy.
“I’m sure he will extract himself from duty to be with you at some point.” Fael’s chin pointed to a spot in the room she had somehow missed. A long table rested above the crowd. It was made of carved wood and painted in rich ebony tones that masked the dangerous aura of the two men sitting behind it.
A banquet of delicious-looking fruit lay in front. The royals wore stark white outfits with gold emblems and decorations. Nava focused on Arkimedes, drinking in his handsome features. The coat he wore hugged his shoulders, and a golden mask covered the top half of his face, made to mimic his features.
“I just hope that when he does, he finds a moment when no one will miss him,” Fael said, bringing her out of her thoughts.
“I need to tell him something quick, and then I will be away.” Would he recognize her if he saw her?
Nava swallowed, feeling her body buzz with need. He shouldn’t be there, chatting with random women, eating and drinking, instead of here, with her. A distinct sensation boiled within her, one she had not felt in a while. Jealousy.
He wouldn’t feel attraction to anyone—she knew this from experience. It didn’t mean the king wasn’t pushing his own agenda.
It took her a moment to notice that all the women sitting at the royal table had black auras in various shades of intensity. Not as opaque as the king’s, and without the creepy appearance of random body parts, very similar to Fael’s.
The king's women possessed the Dark One’s power. Nava felt her lips part as she took all of them in. Varying in different shapes and skin colors, the cohorts were undoubtedly fae, judging by their pointy ears and the wings behind their backs.
“They all have auras,” Nava said, wandering closer to take a better look. “I thought all fae who possess the power were part of the guard?”
“They were once part of us,” Fael agreed.
“He forced them to be with him? He took advantage . . . ?” Nava’s face warmed. The women didn’t appear unhappy where they sat, talking and laughing. They looked at complete ease, unlike the rigid set of Arkimedes’s shoulders.
“He didn’t force them. They volunteered to give the kingdom a chance for an heir, as we thought our prince was dead.” Fael’s stern gaze traveled down from the table and met Nava’s. “I must admit, some of their choices surprised me . . .” His words trailed as his brows met in the middle. Sadness lit behind his dark lashes, morphing his features and dulling his bright skin.
“I see. Why them when there is a kingdom full of people?”
“It’s not for me to tell.” Fael put the helmet onto his head and placed a hand on her back, but the sensation his touch gave her was all wrong.
The fire in her veins demanded to be touched, but not by him. Nava stepped away from the guard’s hand. She focused back on the royals’ table, meeting Arkimedes’s gaze from across the room.
Her throat bobbed as he leaned forward, holding the weight of his body on his arms over the table. From this far, she couldn’t see the play of muscles in his arms, though her vivid, heated mind could provide her plenty of details.
Frozen in her spot, pinned under his gaze, she was too close and not close enough at the same time. His bright green eyes were brighter than all the other fairies next to him.
“Fiancée, you decided to show up.” Devon sauntered into her line of sight, his voice like a drop of ice melting over burning skin.
“I preferred when you called me kitten,” she said. It was the first time she’d seen Devon in such bright colors, and he looked almost as white as a ghost under such shades. His hair was slicked back, and the dark circles under his eyes made the pupilless orbs pop.
“I much prefer this new one,” he said, stopping next to her with a bored stance. His gaze drifted toward Fael. “Guard.”
The fae grunted. “I will get something to drink but will be close. Do not step away from here without me.”
It was then that she noticed the glass of red liquid in Devon’s hand. “Where are your guards?” she asked.
“I lost them a while ago. Fae get rowdy with the wine,” he said with a side smirk. “You, however, don’t need such a thing to be in trouble, do you?”
She swallowed, and her eyes shifted toward the table where Arkimedes sat, his eyes burning through the crowd, fixed on them with the intensity of the seven suns. “Is—is there anything wrong with the wine, or do they just drink too much?”
“Everyone knows the fae spike their wine during a celebration such as this to liberate themselves. They like the lack of repercussions or censorship.” Devon swirled the liquid again, which spilled down his ivory skin and onto the floor. He dumped half of the contents when no one was watching.
Nava lifted a brow. “What are you doing?”
He took a step forward and lowered his face to her ear. “The guards gave me this wine to drink, no doubt with some wicked intent.” One of his hands grasped her lower back, and his lips caressed the shell of her ear.
