Page 95 of Healer to the Ash King
“It’s tested in the kitchen, and then a trusted servant brings my portion straight to me. I have five servants assigned specifically to that task, and they rotate the responsibility.”
“And they can’t be bribed?”
“Do you wish to poison me, kitten?”
“Of course not!” My cheeks are reddening. “I’m asking out of concern for you.” Which is the truth. I would never pass this information to the Undoing, not now. Not even if they tried to torture it out of me.
“My tasters have all been with the palace for years, and they are loyal,” he says. “There are also observers in the kitchen, and guards nearby to keep an eye on who comes and goes. I suppose there is a flaw in every system, but it has worked smoothly so far. I’m not dead yet.” He digs in the nearly empty bag for another nut. After popping it into his mouth, he inspects his sugar-coated fingers.
“Here, let me.” I take his wrist gently and guide his fingers between my lips, sucking each one slowly.
His pupils dilate, and a telltale glow lights his eyes.
“Shit,” I whisper. “Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“Your eyes are glowing. They’ll give you away.”
He shuts his eyes quickly. “I can’t help it. I’m aroused. You had to lick my fingers in that sensuous way, you abominable village brat…”
I turn him toward me and pull his hood further around his face. “Your eyes glow when you’re aroused?”
“As I told you, they glow when I feel strong emotions. Arousal, frustration, jealousy, anger—love.” His lashes blink apart, and his gaze meets mine. Through the holes of the mask, his irises shine a deep, rich orange.
My stomach does a dizzy twirl. “We need to get you somewhere else until this wears off,” I murmur. “Where can we go?”
“A tryst booth?” He slow-blinks at me. “I’ve never used one, but I’ve had them installed throughout the city. Before I did that, people would simply couple on street corners or in alleys. It was a problem.”
“Gods.” I swallow hard at the thought. “Do you know where the nearest one is?”
“Of course I do.” He bends, his mouth brushing my temple. “I’m the King, sweetheart.”
“Hush, you fool,” I breathe, lifting my mouth to his ear. “Do you want to be assassinated?”
“I’d rather not. Especially when I’ve just begun to taste you, little vagabond.”
The space between my legs is growing warmer and wetter by the second. “Lead on, then,” I murmur. “Let’s have a tryst.”
34
A few streets over, there’s an entire row of tryst booths along a street intermittently lit by glazed pink lanterns The booths are constructed of wood, with curtains of heavy dark-purple fabric draped over the doors. When the Ash King and I peer inside one, we discover a small room with a padded bench.
“My bare ass is not touching that,” I whisper, grimacing. “Imagine all the fluids.”
“This from the woman who came to me dirt-stained and glistening with sweat.”
“It wasn’t all sweat,” I say primly. “Some of it was water.”
“Whatever it was, you were filthy and wet. I wanted to throw you down in that dusty square and tear those little blue shorts off you.”
Shocked, I stare at him. “You did?”
“Of course I did.” He pulls the curtain shut behind us and slides both hands under my cloak, running them up my waist, along my sides, over my breasts. My skin tightens with need, and I sigh, yearning toward him.
He moves closer, lowering his voice. “And then when you kept smiling at the oddest moments—well. I had to have you.”
I tip my face up, my mouth hovering near his. My fingers pass lightly between his legs, grazing the rigid length under his trousers. “It must have frustrated you when you could not have me. Did it make you hard, Your Majesty? Did you touch yourself and think of me?”
