Page 59 of Healer to the Ash King
“But if I was,” I say, trying not to sound breathless, “did I pass the test?”
“Diplomacy when it was needed, honesty when it was required. Yes, you passed.”
Back in my room, I keep picturing the magnificent flex of the King’s body as he threw an entire adult man in armor off the third-floor balcony. It was horrible.Horrible. Not strangely, darkly attractive. I am not tantalized by the thought that he could pick me up bodily in one hand. Nor am I reveling in the fact that he said no to sex with Axley.
I suspect the King will come to me again tonight, once he has finished with the other women. I’m not sure what I want or what I hope for—just his confusing, tantalizing presence, I suppose. Nothing more. Maybe I’ll confront him about what I saw—rage at him a little.
I indulge in a bath, expecting to wait a couple of hours for him, but a few seconds after I step out of the tub, I hear the door between our rooms opening. Frantic, I snatch a towel and wrap it around myself just before he appears in the open doorway of the bathing room.
He props a forearm against the frame and takes in the sight of me. “Healer.”
“Your Majesty,” I breathe.
The front of his pants is stretched tight, a pronounced shape obvious beneath the fabric, and he keeps shifting, moving constantly, as if he can’t bear to stand still. I’m barefoot instead of in heels, so he looks taller than ever—truly majestic. There’s a restless, heated lust rolling off him, a raw male dominance so intense I can almost taste it. He wants sex. He said no to Axley, and now he has come to me.
My thighs and belly tighten at the thought, and my heartbeat kicks up.
“Take it off.” He gestures sharply at the towel.
“No, thank you.” I retreat out of reach.
He cocks an eyebrow. “So shy, after what you did to me the other night?”
“I told you that was a one-time mercy because you couldn’t sleep. There’s nothing more between us, and can never be anything more.”
A long sigh emanates from him. “This again, Healer? I am not looking formore between us,merely for a mutual release of the urge we both feel. There is no shame in taking pleasure together. I know you despise me, and you know I can’t love you or marry you. Yet our bodies react to each other, as is natural for two beautiful, powerful people. Why should we not indulge that craving?”
“Because then they’ll be right,” I murmur. “I will be the cheap mistress in the Rose Room, the one the girls fear will take your heart, even if they win the throne.”
“I promise you won’t win my heart or my throne. I will abide by the tradition of royalty marrying nobility. And I would not give my heart to someone who disapproves of me as thoroughly as you do. So there’s no issue.”
“But what we know to be true and what everyone else thinks are two different things,” I protest. “Even if you repeated that declaration to the Favored, they might not believe you. There’s plenty of suspicion around me due to my placement in these quarters, and I have my honor to think of.”
“Your reputation is already soiled in that respect, Healer. I ensured that when I placed you in this room.” He gives me a sly smile. “No one will believe I haven’t tasted the pretty little treasure next-door, no matter how much you might protest. Since they already think us guilty, why shouldn’t we allow ourselves this diversion?”
My face heats, and I grip my towel tighter. “You did this on purpose. You put me in the Rose Room so you could weaken my resolve.”
“Guilty.” He saunters toward me, his sheet of white hair swaying, sinuous as a serpent. His eyes are hooded, glowing richly red with lecherous thirst. His voice softens, circling me like a snake’s coils. “Do you feel your resolve weakening, Healer? Just once, let me come inside you. I promise you’ll have a good time.”
He’s so close now that I have to press my back against the wall to put some distance between us.
“Why are you so fixated on me when you could have anyone else?” I ask.
“I’m not sure.” He braces a palm near my head, leaning in. “Perhaps I crave one last conquest before I’m chained to one of these noblewomen for the rest of my life.”
“Chained?” I lift an eyebrow. “Your father didn’t think much of marital chains.”
“I suppose not. He indulged himself with a mistress—sometimes more than one.” Heat from his body suffuses the air between us, warm on my damp skin. “What do you think, Healer? Shall I keep you in this room once I’m married?” He picks up a lock of my wet hair, winding it around his fingers. “Shall I pay you visits and receive delightful massages?”
“Is that what you would do?” I counter. “Do you want to treat your wife as your father treated his?”
A spasm of quick pain ripples through his gaze. “No,” he says quietly. “Once I marry, I will be true to my wife, even if it kills me.”
“Then you will be miserable and resentful,” I murmur. “Faithfulness to one partner is an old-fashioned notion these days, especially in this city.”
“Yet I still believe in it.” There’s a raw note in his tone that makes me wonder about his past, whether a lover was ever disloyal to him.
I do not judge a couple who share partners openly or find pleasure wherever they like—as long as it is done with full knowledge and consent of both parties, not with secrecy and deceit. But it’s not a choice I would make for myself.
