Page 105 of Queen of the Night
“I don’t know how to be a queen,” I warn, trying to hide the terror I feel when I consider the position I’ll be taking but haven’t been prepared for.
“You know how to be a Black Tulip, and that’s exactly what our kingdom needs. The rest will come.” He truly seems unconcerned about my lack of queenly training. I wish I could be, as well.DoI know how to be a Black Tulip? Will I know how to bridge when the time comes? Do I have to do anything to make it all work? I was never taught any of that, and it’s scary to sayI don’t knowwhen an entire kingdom of people is relying on me, but I try to draw on Ikar’s confidence and tamp down the instinct to panic.
I recline on my hands beside him again, trying to be present—content. He’s alive and well, we’re getting along, we seem to be friends again, and he says we can fix things now. Shouldn’t I be ecstatic? This is all I dreamed of while imprisoned in Renton’s camp, but it’s hard to be content when I imagine there could have been a kiss accompanying that moment where he told me we could fix this together, and there most definitely wasn’t. Besides holding my hand yesterday, he’s hardly touched me since that single beautiful kiss at Mama Tina’s weeks ago. I’ve caused monumental trouble for him, and I should be happythat he’s even willing to sit here and be friendly with me. I should be satisfied… but I’m not.
I know that with bridging comes marriage. Does he see the rest of our lives like a well-written contract? Will we simply be powerful magic friends who wed out of necessity? My nose wrinkles in response to that thought. I need to know, or I’ll drive myself batty.
I mentally prepare myself to ask, to be okay with whatever comes of my inquiry. I will not sob in front of him, but how to word it so I don’t sound overeager? My palms begin to sweat on the smooth rocks.
“Ikar?” It comes out all breathless and lover-like. Dratted nerves. This is not going according to plan. He looks my way.Here’s my moment.I swallow, and my tongue seems to grow three sizes. “Can you forgive me? Can we be—er, are we…friends?” I nearly choke on that last word since it’sanythingbut friendship that I feel for him.
He lifts a brow at my struggle to spit the words out, a smooth stone in his frozen hand—there’s a beat of silence between us.
“I don’t generally kiss my friends,” he says wryly.
“Well, I don’t either,” I argue, blushing hotly now, and stare hard at a spotted stone that has suddenly captured my attention. “But it’s been a while since… y’know… and I’ve caused a lot of trouble, and I don’t expect you?—”
He places a finger beneath my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “Is that what you want to be?” He’s as direct as always, and it’s terrifying to a person who loves to beat around the bush—rather, hide behind it.
I swallow, and I’m sure he can hear it. I can’t read him; his eyes are guarded again. He doesn’t sound angry, though thereisa small crease between his brows I fixate on. Is he exasperated? Frustrated? I bite my lip.
“Is that what you want to be?” he asks again, softer now, beginning to pull his finger back. My chin follows it, begging him not to distance himself, and do I spy a hint of disappointment in his eyes, or is it a figment of my overactive imagination?
This is where I’m meant to declare my love, where I fight for him, and all my feelings rise up in a great symphony, ready to sing out in strong vulnerability—instead, all that comes out is a shaky, “Doyouwant to be friends?”
I can hardly meet his eyes. Friends is so much less than I’d dreamed of having with him, but better than nothing at all.
His eyes darken and his lips turn up in a roguish grin. “I’ve never wanted to be friends with you, Vera.”
My eyes shoot up to meet his, wondering if he means what I think he means—can he really feel the same as I?
“That’s awfully rude to say,” I whisper as he chuckles deeply and leans close.
He draws a thumb slowly along my jaw. I tilt my head up, and our lips brush so lightly it could have been a gentle breeze. Then I lean closer, feeling bold, and meet his lips again, and he responds… firm, gentle, intoxicating as his warm hand cradles my face, and his thumb moves across my skin in a gentle caress. His clean scent hovers around us as our magic twines, warm and content. Suddenly, I can’t get enough of him. I find myself on raised knees beside him, his hands now at my waist tugging me closer and mine sliding from his strong shoulders to the back of his neck in a close embrace as our kiss deepens. All my senses are set afire as the world around us disappears, leaving just he and I and the magic swirling around us.
“King Ikar.”
Ikar’s head jerks up almost violently, and I’m left severely disappointed as we both turn to find a squat nymph covered in skin of rich brown bark and hair of orange leaves bowing lightly before us—I swear I hear cracking like a tree bending too far in the wind.
He straightens. “I’ve been sent to invite you and your entourage to a celebration thrown by Queen Odella this evening.”
Ikar nods and clears his throat, but the roughness of his voice sends heat through my entire body. “We’ll be there. Please send Odella our thanks.”
The man nods sharply and waltzes out the open gate, oblivious to what he interrupted.
For a moment, I wonder if maybe we can revisit that kiss, but Ikar reaches an arm around me, and I sit down as he pulls me into his warm side. I lean into him, soaking up his nearness.
“So… does this mean you forgive me for all the trouble I’ve caused you?” I ask.
He looks down at me with a slight frown turning his brows, and I worry I’ve ruined the moment by bringing it all up again. I open my mouth to say something to fill the silence, but he chooses that moment to continue, so I close my mouth with an audible click of my teeth.
“The day I realized that you were what I had been searching for, and you knew it and chose not to trust me, I was angry.”
I thought I was prepared for this conversation, but the pain that tightens my chest tells me I could never be ready.
“And hurt. More than I’ve ever been. I thought I’d done everything I could possibly do to earn your trust.”
I look down and my eyes burn again. I refuse to cry and make this about me. No words of defense come to mind.
