Page 12 of Reveal Me
Ileaned back on my throne. The cool stone bit into my back. My father had never allowed a cushion anywhere near his chair. The seat of power, he said, should make room for discomfort.
Uncomfortable was exactly what I felt.
The room around me was grand, but all I could feel was a heavy, suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. The scent of incense clogged my nostrils. The rustle of silk and satin dresses from the women circulating in and out of the room irritated my ears.
The nobles, the commoners—everyone had a voice. Everyone wanted something.
The commoners shouted that taxes were too high. The lords insisted we needed less regulation. A woman from the lower quarter pressed her hands to her chest as she pleaded for more protection from the beasts that roamed outside the borders of the city. It was a delicate balance, always in flux.
The familiar rhythm of ruling this throne room—the ebb and flow of power, the back and forth of negotiation, the quiet dance of diplomacy. I was good at this. I was good at seeing what people truly needed, what lay beneath their complaints. They wanted lower taxes? I’d give them tax cuts, but I’d have to raise tariffs elsewhere. They wanted less regulation? I’d streamline the rules but tighten the ones that mattered most. The woman from the lower quarter? I could see her fear, the desperation in her eyes. I knew that what she really wanted was safety. So I promised new patrols, more guards stationed along the borders.
I pulled strings. I made deals behind closed doors. They didn’t know how I balanced their desires with the kingdom’s long-term survival. To them, I was just the king—the one who gave them what they wanted. But to me, it was all a careful calculation, a performance.
And when the council finally agreed, when the murmurs of approval rippled through the room, I leaned back in my chair, feeling the weight lift from my shoulders but the hard stone chafe my ass.
“You must be tired of ruling, Your Majesty. Let me take your mind off it. Come, let me show you something… more pleasing.”
It took a moment to register the words and where they came from. A woman, I’m sure I knew her name at one point, but it escaped me today. She stepped forward with a coy smile, her hips swaying as she approached. She wore the finest silks. They did nothing to spark any interest in me. I wasn’t interested in anyone buther.
Shehad already ruined every other woman for me. All the others, with their soft touches, their pretty faces, their seductive whispers—I couldn’t remember any of their names. I’d always had the decency to do at least that during my trysts.
The only name on my mind now was Niamh. Ha! I laughed out loud, getting the play on words.
When I blinked, I realized that What’s Her Name had mounted me like I was a throne. Before I could push her off me, the door to the throne room opened with a resounding creak. I caught a whiff of Niamh and panicked.
Standing quickly, the woman bounced off my lap and landed with an indignant thud on the floor.
“So sorry for interrupting.” Oz stepped inside, his eyes shadowed with a weight I knew all too well. He walked the way he used to walk as a cub—as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders and he would have to deal with it in solitude.
But he wasn’t alone anymore. He had his fated mate.
“What’s got you sulking?”
Oz gave a short, humorless laugh as he watched What’s Her Name dust off her dress and walk out where he’d just come in with as much dignity as possible. “Stella’s having ‘girl time’ with Niamh. I’m giving them time to catch up. But they’ve been at it for over an hour.”
I didn’t register my friend’s whine. My brain caught on her name. Just hearing it aloud sent a shiver of desire through me.
I’d seen her. I’d scented her. I’d tasted her, and it had changed everything.
“Why?” I muttered, leaning back again, letting my fingers rest against my temple. “Why does fate have to be so damned inconvenient?”
“You’re asking me? You’re the one who hasn’t met your match yet. Wait until you do. It’ll change you.”
As though fate were laughing at me, I smelled her again. I knew she was here. Knew that when she saw me on this throne, when it all became clear, that she would feel even more justified for rejecting me.
Not only did she think I was a—what did she call me? A fuck boy. But she could add deceiver to that list as well.
I needed to buy myself some time. I needed to figure out how to make this right. But fate, once again, was gonna have another laugh at my expense. Because Niamh’s scent grew stronger with each second, with each breath.
The door to the throne room creaked open again. I held my breath, knowing that I would get a pure whiff of her bittersweet scent. Stella came in first. She was followed by Niamh’s scent, but the woman behind Stella looked nothing like the woman I’d met hours ago.
Her features were wrong. Gone were her dark tresses. In their place was bright pink hair that didn’t match the wild, earthy tones of the woman who had haunted my mind. Her nose was wider. The lips thinner. Her eyes—her eyes were a completely different color, a clear blue rather than the hazel depths I remembered. And yet the scent, the unmistakable scent of my fated mate, clung to her.
I narrowed my eyes, confusion tightening my chest. It didn’t make sense.
“Guys, this is Niamh, one of my best friends.”
Her eyes met mine, a flirtatious smile curling at the corners of her lips. I didn’t remember when I’d come to standing, but I had to fight the urge to take a step back. She was standing there, like she hadn’t just walked into a palace she was destined to rule. Like she hadn’t just propositioned me out in the forest.
