Page 17 of The Maleficent Faerie
I am the curse.
Goddess, I can’t bear this weight, not again, not anymore, not when I thought I was so close. I have ruined it all with my eagerness and recklessness—I didn’t check her thoroughly for glamours. I overspent my magic like a mewling babe fashioning his first spell. I am stupid, worthless—
I glance up at the prisoner, and our eyes lock. She’s looking at me with a kind of sharp awareness, as if she knows what I’m thinking. Her cocky smile is gone.
“Ransom me,” she says quietly. “And this won’t be a total loss for you.”
7
For a moment, when the Void King looks at me, I see the naked despair and raw self-loathing of the man who confided in me last night. But he shutters the expression immediately, gives his knights a few terse orders, and then dismisses them. Another Fae brings in his armor and fresh clothes, then beats a hasty retreat.
Lucky for me, the Void King is still empty of dark magic, even though his fever has passed. Otherwise I’m fairly sure he’d wreak some dire punishment upon me. His fury burns in every movement of his lean body as he pulls on a pair of undershorts, then bathes his chest and armpits at the washstand. His wings arch high, rigid with rage, feathers standing out at rakish angles. Once he’s done washing up, he preens his wings swiftly, mercilessly, combing the bent vanes with his ebony claws.
He spends longer on his hair, running a bone-handled brush through it until it shines like a black river. Then he oils his horns—all four of them. When he dabs white cream on his throat and wrists, the scent of oleander and honeywood fills the tent.
I can’t help a tiny scoff and a smirk.
“Something funny, viper?” His tone is a blade, a challenge.
“Not at all. It’s crucial to look and smell your best when the Realm is in crisis,” I tell him soberly.
He stalks over to me. “I suppose I should be like you.” He plucks at my tangled blue tresses. “With this—elegant coiffure.” Then he leans down, his nose nearly touching my breastbone.
I suck in a startled inhale at the proximity, but he only sniffs delicately, then wrinkles his nose and says, “You smell rather ripe, for a Fae. But by all means, sneer at my penchant for cleanliness and beauty. Those who can’t achieve a standard are free to mock it, if it makes them feel better.”
Turning away, he picks up his pants—black leather, just like the other pair—slides his legs in, and hitches them up over his hips. I watch his Void-stained fingers deftly manipulate the buttons and the belt.
He glances up again, meeting my eyes, and his mouth quirks at the corner.
Does he think I’madmiringhim? Goddess… I need to say something, to provide some reason for why I’m watching him so closely. “You didn’t order Fitzell to send a message to my people, to let them know you’ve discovered my ruse. Why not? Don’t you want to put a stop to the attacks and enter negotiations?”
“No negotiations until I’ve refilled my magic.” His gaze drops to my shackled hands. “Those rings you wear—what are they?”
“Gifts from my mothers. Heirlooms, for luck. A sign of family unity.”
He snorts. “You’re lying to me. Ah, if only we lived in the old times when our kind could not lie outright! Never mind—I’ll figure it out.”
I’m not lying. But it’s no use trying to convince him of that.
Moving directly in front of me, the Void King reaches over my head to unlock my neck chain from the post. His chin is tipped up, his pale throat exposed, right in front of my face. Damn, he smells good. The fragrance wafting from his skin sends a shiver of delighted arousal through my body, turning my sex slippery with need.
The awareness of that need floods me with horrified panic.
I react with the instinct of a trapped animal—without thinking. I lunge forward and clamp my teeth on the flesh of the Void King’s throat. And then I rip free.
Blood spurts from his neck.
He yells, stumbling back, clamping his hand over the spouting artery. “You fucking animal!”
Two Edge-Knights rush into the tent, but he waves them out with an angry, “Begone! I have her under control.”
Exchanging nervous grimaces, the knights duck back outside.
The Void King takes his hand away from the wound. It’s already closing—fuck.
He stares at his hand, then slides those slippery, bloody fingers around my throat and jerks me forward. With my chain unhooked, nothing stops him from yanking me right against his chest. “What was the point of that barbaric violence, viper?”
“I thought maybe you wouldn’t heal, with your magic so low,” I mutter.
