Page 100 of Healer to the Ash King
“Because she is carrying someone else’s child.”
“And that only matters if she loves the father of the child. Which I was going to ascertain eventually, but I was derailed from my intent by a certain vagabond Healer who proved irresistible—comehere, kitten.”
He darts toward me, a wicked gleam in his eyes, but I retreat quickly. “Not until I tell you what Khloe suggested to me today. She has noticed the connection between you and me, and she said she would be willing to marry both of us. A triad. She would be the queen the nobles want, and I would be the one the people like. You would be able to bed either of us, or both of us.”
He halts, gripping the bedpost. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s the perfect solution, Perish.” I force the words out—the vulnerable, fragile words I can’t take back. “Unless you’re willing to defy the nobility and marry a commoner, this is the only way. You can have one of the Favored, and you can have—me.”
His face softens, his mouth curving up at one side. “A perfect solution. So why do you look as if you’re about to vomit?”
“I don’t,” I gasp. “I’m only—adjusting to the idea. Others can make it work seamlessly—we should be able to do that as well.”
“Marriage to multiple partners isn’t for everyone, kitten.”
I’m breathing too quick, too shallow, and I can’t seem to stop. I sink onto the edge of the bed, trying to calm myself. “But if not a triad, then—then you will marry one of them, and I—what will I do?”
Perish approaches and sinks to one knee, gathering my hands in his. I fill my eyes with him, with that finely turned profile, those handsome features I’ve admired since the day he came to my village to fetch me.
“I will have you and you alone,” he says quietly. “I told you I want you. I want you grimy and soil-stained, shining with sweat under the sun, on your knees and palms in an open field while I take you from behind. I want you secretly in some broom-stuffed closet while servants look for us outside. I want you splayed on my bed—I want to feel your tremors when you come on my tongue. I want you against the garden wall and on the desk in my library. I want your mouth on my cock while I sit on my throne. I want you now, in your youth and beauty, and I want you years from now, when we’re both slow and sagging.”
He’s kissing every one of my fingers, punctuating his beautiful filthy words. “I want your intelligence and your diplomacy. I want that immense, generous, sweet, good heart of yours. I want your smiles and your laughter, your courage and your compassion. I want the ruthless side of you, too—your jealousy and your vindictive impulses, your anger and your ferocity—the shade of darkness that makes your light brighter.”
Perish reaches up, running a fingertip along my forehead. “I will say it plainly, to erase that worry from your brow. If you would do me the honor of accepting me, you will be my queen. You have only to say the word, and I will make it happen. I will try to do it diplomatically, without angering the nobles, but if I must anger them, so be it. And as I said before—I do not share, Cailin, nor would I ask you to do so. It will be you and me. Always. No one between us.”
My whole body is shaking, and tears are gathering in my eyes. I can’t respond, so I only nod. The Ash King smiles and touches my trembling lips.
“I need words, kitten,” he says softly. “Because if you do not want a throne, I might leave mine for you.”
The enormity of that statement shocks me, loosens my tongue.
“No,” I manage. “I would never ask that of you. I know how seriously you take your role, how much you want to protect this kingdom. Without you, we would probably be conquered by now. And while I think you could loosen the restrictions a little, I understand why you set them in place. If I can have the freedom to spend time at home when I need it, without a swarm of bodyguards trampling the fields when I need to be alone, then I can agree to this, I think.”
“I will order the guards to walk barefoot, softly.” His face is sober, but his eyes twinkle.
“Perish. I am serious. I don’t want to be a queen who is followed around by bodyguards and curbed from doing anything reckless. Nor do I want to be confined to parlors and dining halls.”
“You can be exactly the kind of queen you want to be.”
“I can go into the city and heal people whenever I want?”
He grimaces. “As long as you’ve learned your lesson, and you don’t drain your energy as low as you did last time.”
“Trust me, I have learned.”
“Then yes. Yes to everything. Yes, over and over, as long as I live, if I can have this one ‘yes’ from you, right now. Will you be my Favored one, Cailin, my everything, my queen, my wife?”
I take a moment. Just a moment, to let the reality of it soak into my being, that this is happening, that the Ash King himself is asking me to marry him.
That I, Cailin Roghnaithe, of the village Leanbh near Analoir Doiteain, have the chance to be queen.
I would be lying if I said I didn’t care about that part. To be able to influence policy and decisions, to have a hand in making life better for those who suffer—that is a supreme incentive to say yes.
But greater still is the other treasure I’ll receive—this beautiful, broken man at my feet, this lonely warrior, this strong King who has been carrying all the weight by himself for too long. This man with the powerful body and destructive magic, with the clever tongue and sinful mouth.
I want him. I love him.
Extricating my hands from his, I place my palms on his cheeks, and I kiss his forehead.
