Page 38 of Queen of the Night
I resist the urge to bite my lip and offer a small nod as I shakily take it from his fingers, then, just to check if it’s truly irreparable, I hold up the two ends… and find no clasps to reattach it. My shoulders fall, though I expected no less.
I see a hint of compassion in his eyes as he watches me. “I’m sorry about your friendship bracelet. I’m sure it can be repaired when we return.”
Friendship bracelet. I almost laugh. That’s what I told him it was back when he was a criminal and I a bounty hunter—I let the half-truth stand.
I smile tightly. “Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”
I only say it to appease him. I already know that no simple jeweler can repair this bracelet, only the copious amount of funds I need to pay the Tulips can do that—and that’s only if Tatania is willing to overlook my rebelliousness and take me back. The last layer of safety I’ve been relying so heavily upon since learning who Ikar is… is gone. I’d always wondered what would happen if I didn’t pay the dues—now I know. It was rather anticlimactic, but I really don’t need more excitement in my life at this point anyway.
Rupi pecks at the bracelet, tugging it from my fingers as if she wants to play, but I have a feeling she’d really like to drop it somewhere in this horrid forest where I’ll never find it again, hoping I’ll forget its existence. I tug it from her beak with a look of warning. She shoots me a saucy glare as I slip it into mypocket and grapple with feeling more trapped than ever. Another failed choice of mine.
I’m on a roll.
Ikar removes his heavy cloak, and I side-eye him, seeking further signs that he feels something different, but he acts as if nothing has changed. Does that mean it’s just me? He offers me some of the meat, and I take it with a nod of thanks as he returns to tending the fire and digs into our meal.
I chance another look as my magic continues to twist and curl and reach for him, but he appears as at ease as ever, simply taking another hearty bite and chewing as if he’s enjoying the best meal of his life. I allow my gaze to linger a little longer, knowing he’s distracted. On hunting contracts and journeys such as this, etiquette is necessarily set aside—looser manners, eating with our fingers, no napkins in sight… He seems too normal, too reachable like this. Just another soldier. My friend. No, more… he’s someone I could fall in love with. Doesn’t help that he’s so handsome it makes my breath hitch on a regular basis. He doesn’t seem at all like the image of the king I’ve had in my mind.
The thought triggers memories of a specific afternoon when Renna and I were teens, giggling over a harmless game we played as we waited for the annual Black Tulip meeting to begin—we’d never seen a king, nor did we intend to, so what harm was there in imagining what the king might look like?
I smile as I drift into the memory.
“I’m sure he has a huge throne with a massive pillow to cushion his behind,” I say.
Renna giggles. “Clothed in satin and velvet, with gold trim. Oh, and black boots that are shined every hour.”
I snort. “And long, thick gray hair, because I’m sure he looks distinguished.”
Then Renna adds, “And a thin, wiry beard that he twines around a finger in his boredom.”
I laugh so loudly it catches Tatania’s attention from the side of the room. I muffle it with my hand and whisper, “With hands softer than a noblewoman’s, and his back as hunched as an old man with the weight of the gold crown on his head.”
Renna snickers. “And plates of five-tier cakes and bowls of fruit surrounding him.”
“Don’t forget the sneer on his lips,” I whisper.
The memory ends there. I blink, my eyes readjusting to the reality around me. Rupi hops to my shoulder, and she follows my gaze to Ikar, where I consider him carefully with narrowed eyes. There has to besomeindication I missed that gives away his status, the awfulness that goes hand in hand with being king—aside from the mark he’s kept hidden as well as I’ve hidden mine... until the widow cave. At first glance, I notice nothing awry, but maybe with the perspective I have now, I’ll be able to see what I’ve been told kings always are and what created the picture in my mind: an aged man, slouched in a gold throne, a heavy crown settled pridefully on long, thin hair, luxurious clothing and boots that have never seen a speck of dust, selfish to the core. I admit I’ve been quite judgmental, but all I’ve had to guide me all these years was this mental picture and the words of warning from Tatania. I intend to prove it right in some way—prove to myself that he’s not as good as he seems.
So I peer at him with a critical eye. He’s obviously not aged. In fact, I’d say he’s in his prime—I’d guess his late twenties—but I try not to linger on that thought as it goes against the image in my head.Focus.I start at the top of his head, but unfortunately, I don’t have to think hard about the crown. I’ve never seen one grace his tousled brown hair. In fact, he runs his hands through it so often it appears he’s in the habit ofnotwearing one moreoften than not. I frown at that and move on to the next thing on the list.
His jaw is rough with thick, days-grown scruff, lending an air of danger to his features that isn’t as visible when he’s clean-shaven—though I prefer him that way.Another difference to my long-pictured king.
I chide myself for having a preference for his appearance.Inappropriate, Vera.
I move to his shoulders next. I’ve walked behind them for so many days that I know they’re broad, filling out his shirts in a way most men envy, and indicate the opposite of lazing away on a throne. His arms, included. His hands are calloused and rough, an obvious sign that he is no stranger to hard work and weapons… and which, admittedly, I find incredibly attractive.
Aloof perusal, Vera.
My eyes drop to his waist—no overabundance there. I’ve seen it myself. I swallow, my mouth dry. Along with all that, he takes turns hunting, cleaning the meat, starting fires. He’s carried my pack the last day and stitched my arm when we were in the Shift For?—
“Yes?” I find Ikar looking at me with a questioning brow raised, and I pull my gaze from his trim torso with surprise.
“Nothing.” I scowl as if he did something wrong and return to the meat that has grown cold in my fingers.
Rupi practically coos with approval from where she perches on my knee.
From the corner of my eye, I see him continue to watch me for a prolonged moment, that small crease reappearing between his brows, before he turns away again and resumes his meal. I resist the urge to wipe my sweaty palms across my trousers.
I realize then that Imustdo better to act normal—completely innocent. But I accept the trickle of relief at hisignorance of any change in his or my magic. Tatania always warned that the king would know us by our magic drawing to each other, whatever that means. But maybe right now it’s only mine that’s changed. I don’t know what to expect now that I no longer have the bracelet’s protection, but it seems for this minute, maybe this hour… maybe even this night, I’m still safe.
