Page 80 of A Court of Sugar and Spice
I doze against his shoulder for a while, but my mouth keeps dropping open and my neck keeps lolling at an uncomfortable angle. Just as I’ve found the perfect position and I’m slipping into sleep again, his grip on my body tightens. “Louisa. Look.”
Curses perch on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back and open my eyes.
The dark world has transformed. As far as I can see the ground is flat, translucent, and luminous, like a sheet of ice or crystal uplit from beneath, glowing blue. White trees, some thin as my finger, grow from the blue stone, and where each emerges, its base is encrusted with orange crystals, also glowing. I have never seen a place so luminously beautiful.
“What is it?” I breathe.
“The Soul Grove,” Lir murmurs. “It is said that the souls of the ancients rest here, waiting to be put into new bodies. Sometimes, if you look through the crystal, you can see images of their past deeds as they dream.”
“Put me down,” I say eagerly.
With a chuckle he obeys, and I kneel on the sheet of crystal, running my palm over the smooth surface. The longer I look into it, the deeper I can see—far, far down into the ethereal blue. Wisps of white dance through those depths, briefly forming images—a pair of Fae dancing, two armies racing toward each other, a woman holding a child.
Lir’s warm hand cups my shoulder. “Come. I know it’s beautiful, but we can’t linger where there is no place to hide. Your scent is perceptible again.”
Reluctantly I start to rise—but as I do, something vibrates through the crystal into my palms. I frown, bending down to the surface. “I hear something.”
Lir drops to one knee and places his hand on the ground. Alarm wakes in his eyes. “Someone is coming. And they’re moving too fast for us to hide or run.”
I stand up, fingers closing on the hilt of my dagger. “Then we will fight.”
“I think there are four of them.”
“Two for each of us.” But my heart sinks.
I’m no warrior. I held off one rat-soldier for a while, but in the end, Clara took him out. I’m not sure how I’ll fare against two enemies.
In the far distance I can see the figures galloping toward us on—not horses—are those deer?
“White reindeer,” breathes Lir, rising beside me. And then he begins to run. Not away from the figures, but toward them.
“Fuck,” I groan, and I hurry after him.
Lir reaches the newcomers before I do. Instead of drawing his sword, he calls to them, and one of the riders swings down and wraps him in a rough embrace.
“That’s promising,” I mutter, letting go of my dagger and slowing my pace. No need to hurry if these folk are friends, so I take my time approaching on my weary feet. Lir is speaking to the newcomers hastily, gesturing more than he usually does.
When I finally reach the group, he turns, his face alight. “Louisa, these are members of the royal guard. And there are more of them encamped near here. They’re protecting the Pool.”
He introduces me to several tall Seelie Fae, all of them beautiful. Three have long, flowing locks, and one has a crown of neat black braids in tight rows. Their armor shines silver, and they wear heavy dark-blue cloaks trimmed with white. Joy, relief, and excitement shines in their eyes whenever they glance at Lir.
“Come,” says the one with the black braids—I think Lir called her Orain. She extends her hand to me with a warm smile. “The Unending Pool is still a long way from here, and the Prince says you need rest and food.”
“Breaking his curse is more important,” I say stoutly. “I can keep going.”
“But I need rest as well,” says Lir. “And I must speak with my people.”
“The word of the Prince,” Orain says, with a smile. “We’ll take you to our camp.”
Two of them double up on one of the huge white reindeer, leaving a mount free for Lir and me. With a boost from Lir, I manage to swing into the saddle without falling, which I count as a supreme victory. He swings up and settles in at my back, his thighs pressing against mine. My rear is nestled right between his legs, and the tingling awareness of our position floods my lower belly with naughty warmth.
I still want to fuck him. So badly. And I don’t want to do it only once, but over and over, until I know all his pleasure points, every tender hollow and bold ridge of his body. I want to dismantle his resistance until he cries out with agonized pleasure. I want to know every sound he makes when he comes undone, and I want to soothe him afterward, to gently pet him as he lies panting and helpless and utterly mine.
Almost without thinking, I lean back against him, ensnared in the fantasy. He’s holding the reins, but he switches them to one hand and curls the other around my body, tentatively. I can almost taste the hope in that gesture.
We’re in the center of the column of riders—two in front of us and two behind. There’s enough space that I don’t think they can hear if I speak softly. I turn my head so my mouth is nearer to Lir’s face.
“I didn’t intend to hurt you, earlier,” I murmur. “What you said to me was overwhelming. The scope of this, the Chosen bond—I’m not sure it’s something I can handle. The thought of me as the Queen of a land that isn’t mine, joined to someone I haven’t known very long, for the rest of what might be an unnaturally long or a perilously short life—it frightens me. You ask for too much, Lir.”
