Page 27 of The Maleficent Faerie
“Fuck that. Andras, go tell the High Priestess I demand a gown worthy of Aura’s station.”
Andras scrambles out of the bath and hurries to dry himself. “I told them you wouldn’t approve of the prank, my Lord,” he says while pulling on his pants.
Reehan and Vandel shoot Andras bladed looks, but he only shrugs and hurries off half-dressed to do my bidding.
I wrap my hand around the back of Aura’s neck and push her into the private bathing room. “Why would you walk out naked in front of them?”
She glares. “So their actions aremyfault?”
“No, but you went out there. You could have waited for me to fetch you. I would have—”
“I didn’t know where you were. At first I thought maybe you instigated the trick.”
“If I wanted to see your body, I could. Without stealing your clothes.”
“Oh, you think so?” Her blue eyes narrow. “You think I would strip for you upon command?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Perhaps you should be rebuking your knights, not me.” Fury and bitterness storms in her gaze, along with a flicker of shame, a hint of confusion. Her fair skin practically glows, damp and luminous in the candlelight. Moisture beads along her collarbones and the curves of her shoulders. A floral fragrance wafts from her body, slipping into my nostrils, trickling down my throat, warming my lungs. The scent of her—by the Void and the goddess, it makes me harder than I’ve been in weeks.
“Trust me, they will be punished,” I manage.
“Don’t punish Andras as harshly. He asked them to leave me alone.” She surveys me, seeming to notice my clothing for the first time. “Do you always wear the same pauldron and pants? With no shirt?”
“I—no, not always. But I prefer this outfit. It suits me.”
“You like to show off these.” She lays her palm across my stomach, and I tense, remembering her teeth ravaging my throat. But she only presses her fingers over the ridges of muscle.
Her touch, just there—by the goddess, I think I might explode.
A living, hungry heat throbs between us, palpable through the steamy air. Thoughts blur into sounds and sensation… the ragged whisper of synchronized breath, the drumbeat of racing hearts. Her palm scorching my abdomen. Her face upturned to mine. My lips feel tender and sore, inflamed with the urgent need for her mouth.
I have not craved a woman this quickly or this fiercely in a long time. It’s a fucking shame, because I must resist. I can’t allow myself to falter or fail. Not again.
No more failure.
“I will speak to my men now.” My voice sounds thick, heavy with lust. “When Andras brings your clothes, get dressed.”
Back in the communal chamber, I assign Vandel and Reehan the job of washing every dish after dinner tonight, and mucking the stables tomorrow. Then I order Ember and Kyan to sweep all the rooms in the Chapel after the service, before they sharpen everyone’s weapons and polish every piece of armor.
“The Chapel attendants deserve a break, so you’ll give it to them,” I say. “And you are forbidden from using magic to speed the tasks along.”
“Yes, Lord King,” they reply.
It’s not enough to soothe my anger, but it will have to do. I have no time to deal with them the way I’d like to—by thrashing each one soundly with my fists. Perhaps tomorrow I can punish them as harshly as they deserve.
These men are a younger group of Edge-Knights; I left my older, stronger warriors with Fitzell. The numbers of seasoned Daenallan fighters have diminished lately, thanks to heavy raiding from the Caennith. As their farmlands disappear, the Caennith Royals have become more desperate, sending troops over the border to steal our crops. I’ve refused to retaliate with all-out war, instead focusing our efforts on defensive tactics as part of my two-year plan to lull our enemies into complacency. It wasn’t a popular choice among my counselors, but I persisted.
And it worked, even if the results weren’t what I envisioned.
None of this is going to plan. Not the attempted capture of the Princess, nor the response of the Caennith Royals. And certainly not my increasing desire to lie down in front of my beautiful prisoner and let her put her foot on my throat.
11
The dress Andras brings me is beautiful. The purple skirts are voluminous enough for kicking, running, and fighting, while the fitted, sleeveless bodice shimmers with purple silk and spirals of blue embroidery. Lace arches over my hips where the bodice meets the skirts, and more lace clusters along the neckline.
Andras cuts slits in the back for me and helps me get my wings through the openings. When he steps around to face me again, his bluish skin has flushed purple along his cheekbones.
