Page 39 of The Maleficent Faerie
“Having fun.” I tilt my hips and smile at him. “Want to dance with us?”
“No, I do not want to dance.” He picks up my gown and throws it at me. “Put that back on.”
I glance around at the knights—two still on the ground, three standing nearby, all of them watching me and the King. In their faces I read lust, admiration, shame, and interest. All things that give me a strange, heady kind of power. I like the feeling, especially after how powerless I felt in the Chapel.
I’ve been remade, the poorly-assembled chunks of me cracked apart and rebuilt. I’ve been peeled down to the bloody core of myself and seared with fiery truth. In light of that gargantuan change, the fear of physical exposure I felt in the bath-house seems ridiculous. In fact, I relish the nudity now. The power of it, the freedom. It’s luscious, addictive. It’s just what I need.
“Put on the gown,” repeats the King.
“No,” I say lazily, toying with one of my nipples. “I don’t think I will.”
“Oh for Eonnula’s sake—” The Void King plants a booted foot on the bench, throws an arm around my waist, and sweeps me right off the table. I don’t have time to react before he’s stalking away from the bonfire area, carrying me under his arm.
I wriggle a little, but he’s shirtless, and the sensation of his smooth, hard body against my heated flesh is wildly arousing. So instead of fighting, I relax, and I let him tote me along. His feathers brush my bare legs as he hauls me back toward the Chapel.
“You interrupted my fun,” I tell him. “You said I could do whatever I wanted.”
“I didn’t expect you to get drunk and dance naked for my knights.”
“Ah, but I didn’t harm or kill anyone. I wasn’t hurting your men, just playing with them.”
“Were you going to fuck them?”
“Maybe. Normally I wouldn’t fuck with Daenallan men, but your knights are so pretty and strong. And when in Daenalla—”
“You’re out of your mind with anger and grief,” he says firmly. “You don’t know what you’re doing. You’ll regret this tomorrow, trust me.”
“Trustyou? That’s rich, seeing as you’re the reason for all this. If you hadn’t cursed me, my parents wouldn’t have needed to disguise me, and the Faeries wouldn’t have glamoured me.” I pause to think through what I just said and make sure it’s logical. I think it is, but I can’t be sure becausewine. “Without you, none of this would be happening,” I repeat. “So really, it’s all—your—fault.” I punctuate each word with a hard jab of my elbow to his ribs.
We’ve nearly reached a side entrance of the Chapel, a narrow wooden door in the deep shadow of a tower. The King drops me into the grass suddenly. I like the feel of the cool, ticklish blades against my naked skin, so I stay there, lying at his feet.
“Partof it is my fault,” he snaps. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t regretted the curse a thousand times? But I can’t break it. In my rage and hubris I made it unbreakable, except by one method.”
“And what is that?”
“Once your finger is pricked and you fall into the hundred-year sleep, you can be awakened if the person who loves you best kisses you. But that person must then take your place, and the clock restarts. They lose a hundred years of their lifetime to that charmed sleep.”
I prop myself on my elbows amid the lush grass. My drunken mind can barely grasp what he’s saying. “So—there’s a way out of it? No one ever told me or Dawn about that.”
He nods grimly. “After I prick your finger and you fall to the charmed sleep, I will allow the King or Queen to kiss you and rest in your place.”
“You think they’re the ones who love me best?” My voice cracks.
The King hesitates. It’s too dark to read his expression perfectly, but I think he looks rather guilty, or maybe sorry for me.
“I honestly don’t know who loves you best,” he says quietly.
“Because no one does. Everyone loves themselves best.” I flop back down on the grass, staring up at the night sky.
The pain is coming back, eating away at the edges of my wine-soaked glow. Soon the vast black hollow of my sadness and anger will swallow me again, like the Void swallows realms.
I need more to drink—or some other pleasant sensation to push back the great Nothing inside me.
14
Aura lies in the deep grass, her pale body luminous with starlight. Her breasts are among the most perfect I’ve ever seen—pillowy and lush, with small, tight nipples.
Earlier today she cringed at the thought of being bared to me and my men. Since then she’s been naked before us twice—once through a prank and now again, by her choice. A drunken choice, but hers nonetheless.
