Page 13 of Chained

“So, what do you do here when you’re not enlightening future queens on how to use a butter knife?” I asked dryly.

His lids popped, and he gawked at me. I returned his baffled stare.

“What?” I demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “No, no. This won’t do.”

Glancing back at Maywin, I frowned, utterly perplexed. “What won’t do?” I asked, baffled.

“Don’t you understand what you’re doing here? What a queen’s purpose is?”

“Like I’ve said, I’ve been training for this role my entire life. Do not insult me.”

“You will be the Queen of Ironhelm and potentially mother to the next king of Ironhelm.”

“So I’ve been told,” I breathed nervously, the thought of becoming a mother slightly terrifying.

“Surely you know there are certain requirements expected of you?” Axel pressed pointedly, staring me too intently in the face, as if willing me to understand what he was saying.

Heat curled up the back of my neck and washed over my face, staining my cheeks crimson.

Was he talking about… in bed?

“I’m aware of what’s expected of me,” I rasped, darting my gaze down toward the table.

“Are you sure about that?” Axel insisted. “Because it doesn’t seem that way to me. You seem to be taking this entirely too lightly.”

“Have I done something wrong?” I asked, sure that I couldn’t have. I’d only just gotten there. I hadn’t even had the opportunity to use the improper spoon.

Was this fae on drugs? Maybe he was high.

“You are supposed to treat our sessions as if I am the King,” Axel told me flatly. “I can’t sign off on our lessons until I am confident that you fully understand what’s expected of you.”

Unsure of how to respond, I simply stared at him.

“Doyou understand?” he growled.

“Again, I’m not clear on what you’re getting all bent out of shape about,” I snapped, his pretentiousness beginning to wear on my nerves.

I had heard just about enough of his drivel for one morning. He was just a servant, too, talking to me like I was some bum he’d picked up off the street to transform.

Axel splayed his large, beautiful hands over the table, and I found myself oddly fascinated with them—until he spoke again.

“You will not speak to me unless I address you first.” For half a second, I thought I had misheard him.

“Pardon me?” I asked slowly.

He did not just say that.

“You should not speak unless you are spoken to first,” he said again, enunciating every word like I was an idiot.

I burst out laughing, thinking he was joking. Apparently, he wasn’t—which only made me laugh harder.

“Is something amusing?” he barked, his cheeks flushing red.

The laughter died on my lips, and I blinked several times, the reality of this clown show hitting me. “Oh. You’re serious. You’re really freaking serious?”

“Of course I’m serious. Your role as queen is to adhere to the whims of your husband, the King. You should predict all his moods, his wants, his desires—”

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