Page 17 of A Kingdom of Death & Darkness
They saunter into the room one by one. It’s like they can smell her. One moment, it was just the three of us, and now... dozens of fae fill the room, lingering and prowling around the Princess with shifting eyes and murmurs of words I can’t quite hear. But I bet she can.
“What brings you here, Princess?” Thorn asks with a slow fold of his arms across his broad chest.
A pain shoots through my skull from how hard I roll my eyes at his petty big-man stance he’s giving the small girl.
“Just passing through.” She smiles at him, a toothy vampiric smile that only shoves a heavy sigh of annoyance from his lips.
“Right,” he whispers.
“Sir, do you need any assistance?” The Warrior, the one who’s always halfway up Thorn’s ass on the daily, steps near the King’s shoulder. Though he can’t stop staring at Delilah, he also seems to know better than to ask directly if his King would like him to get rid of the girl who may very well be my only friend in all the Dark Lands.
“No, that won’t be necessary, Airen,” Thorn replies.
“Actually, I havea tonof bags in the carriage. Would you be so kind as to bring them in?” Delilah beams up at the man, and it isn’t lost on me how long her gaze lingers on Airen’s naked chest and broad wingspan.
For the first time, I notice how different the men here are in comparison to the Blood Kingdom. Every male in this court has a body that’s been trained for battle, a blood lineage that breeds... killers. I suppose when you’ve been fighting to survive for generations, genetics are bound to kick in eventually.
“You want the Captain of the King’s guard to fetch your luggage?” The Warrior asks with a level tone.
“It would be such a help, Airen,” she replies sweetly, and her small hand briefly touches his arm like a kind gesture of manipulation.
But his deep green eyes linger on her hand, shifting from her touch to her eyes, her lips, and more. His lips quirk at the corners just slightly. A small smile, almost like flirtation, slips over Delilah’s features, and it suddenly feels like the entire room is imposing on their moment.
Until a gruff voice clears, and the King says, “Airen, get the bags.” A beat passes before Thorn adds like an afterthought, “please.”
Airen nods and quickly pulls his gaze away from the bewitching vampire.
“Of course, My King.” But as he slips between us to the door, Delilah bends and hurriedly grabs her umbrella and trails after the Warrior, leaving all of us to watch the two of them go.
“So much for missing you,” Thorn whispers with a smirk.
“Well, itishard to compete with the charm of fae men, isn’t it?” I peer up at him with another roll of my eyes, but the beaming smile lines around his eyes kills the pettiness inside of me on sight.
His big hand quietly slips around mine. He catches me off guard just like that. One moment, he’s the most annoying male I’ve ever laid eyes on, and the next...
My stomach flips, and my heart stammers, and fuck my inability to properly come up with a snarky retort anymore.
Dinner that evening is the most enthralling charade of etiquette I’ve ever sat front row to.
“You really don’t have anything else?” Delilah asks, her red-rimmed gaze staring down at the plate of food that’s piled high before her.
Steaming mashed potatoes, buttery veggies, hot dinner rolls, and mouthwatering desserts line the massive table between us. She sits opposite of me, both of us just to the side of the King himself, while other advisors and courtiers decorate the chairs on all sides.
The King arches a brow and simply shakes his head at her as he chews.
“That’s quite alright,” she says with a brilliant smile.
My shoulders sag with the relief that she didn’t once ask for blood for dinner. So, I guess that’s good. Awkwardness averted.
But then, she fidgets under the table, her eyes intently focused on something within her gown that no one else can see. Every set of eyes holds on the small Princess. A sloshing of liquid sounds, and everyone waits with bated breath. A metal flask with the letter D etched elegantly across the middle is set to the side of her plate.
Then she lifts a large metallic goblet from beneath the table and raises it with a smile. A toast of sorts. She nods, but when no one else lifts their cups, she takes a big sip and then looks back to me... with a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.
The King passes me a knowing look.
She swings her attention back to the head of the table like she didn’t just smuggle blood into a fae kingdom. Thorn eyes her. She smiles. He glares.
“Could Airen possibly join us?” Delilah asks, patting delicately at her blood-stained lips after the smallest sip from her personal ironclad wine glass.
