Page 40 of The King's Queen

Stepping back, I keep an even distance before us Rowan strikes out again. This time I reciprocate with a front kick to the gut. He staggers a moment, his blonde hair falling into his eyes as he glares in my direction.

“Not bad.”

“You want some more?” In my moment of gloating, he manages to land a fairly strong hit to my torso. I hiss at the small hurt when I realize what he’s been doing.

“You’re pulling your punches!” I cry indignantly, and he flashes that Cheshire Cat grin of his.

“I wanted to give you some sort of chance.”

“I can take you.”

We both know my confidence is misplaced, but I don’t expect him to lung forward with the speed and drive of a madman as he dodges all my assaults and sweeps my legs out from under me. Before I have the chance to strike, he’s settled his knees on either side of my hips, one of his hands pinning both of mine above my head while the other toys with a loose strand of hair. I struggle to no avail as his grip tightens, though not enough to hurt. His warm breath fans my cheeks as he lowers his face to mine, the two of us nearly nose to nose. His hair cascades around his head, a halo of gold encapsulating us both. He looks like a saint, if a saint wore all black leather and blood.

His eyes glimmer dangerously, and I find myself holding my breath as he leans closer, the scent of twilight swirling between us.

“No, you can’t.” His weight settles heavily over my body as he tucks that strand of hair behind my ear. “You need to be better. I can’t stomach the thought of another man pinning you down like this.”

Then strong furious hands are ripping him off, hauling him to his feet and pinning him against the wall and gripping his throat.

Blaine’s face is a perfect portrait of righteous fury and rage. Gone is the aloof calmness I’ve grown accustomed to. No, I imagine this is the last face his enemies on the battlefield had seen. The face of a warrior, and perhaps a monster.

“You don’t touch her,” He seethes, his jaw clicking as he bares his teeth dangerously close to Rowan’s throat. A part of me wonders if he’d rip it out.

“Blaine!” I cry out, scrambling to my feet.

But Rowan just smirks and raises an eyebrow with his usual suaveness.

“Or what?” His eyes flick down to Blaine’s snarl then back to his eyes. “You’ll bite me?”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“I’d much prefer if she did it.” I’m too stunned to comprehend what Rowan is saying when Blaine presses him further into the wall, only for Rowan to push back.

“I’m growing tired of this.” He cracks his neck and steps forward as if he hadn’t just had our best captain’s hands around his throat. “Get over yourself, Vera could’ve had me off if she wanted to.”

If it had been anyone other than him, no, probably not. But I had seen the hesitance in his eyes, the gentle caution. If I had shoved, he would’ve yielded.

“Unless she liked it.”

And with four words, all of Blaine’s restraint snaps, and he winds his fist back for a punch. I lunge to step between them both when Kya gets there first, her swift hands catching his fist where it still waits in the air, eager to probably knock Rowan’s teeth out.

“Take a walk,” she hisses tightening her grip. “Both of you.”

A seething rage burns bright in Blaine’s steely grey eyes, but a brighter fire is lit in hers. Her stare is a warning: back down or be burned. Slowly, he relents, and the assassin drops her arm. Without another word, he storms from the room, his footsteps echoing until the slam of the door rattles the walls.

“Go after him.”

Torin nods and does as I ask of him, his footsteps light and quick. Surely enough, the door opens and closes again.

“Ha! And you have the nerve to whine about how he isn’t in love with you,” Rowan drawls, rubbing his neck where the faint beginnings of a bruise are starting to show. His sardonic laughter fills the space between us, followed by a yelp of pain as my shoe hits the back of his head.

“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.” A new voice enters the room, high and lilting like a flute. The sly fox.

Aiko steps in first, her slender form clothed in a fine velvet gown of the deepest indigo hues. Her dark hair is pinned in coifs atop her head, making her look every part the regal noble I had somehow forgotten she is. Finneas follows after her, his hulking frame nearly getting caught in the doorway as he tries to catch up to his wife. But my attention isn’t on him. No, my gaze traces the light streaming from the main room to the third shadow waiting in the doorway.

A diminutive blonde woman steps through, her face worn weary with time and grief. Her eyes are a piercing, emerald green that bear such sorrow, and yet she has laugh lines in the corners of her eyes. Her strides are short yet powerful, and her shoulders rest square over her hips. This is a woman who could have fooled me for a queen.

Abashedly noticing my half-nakedness, I lung for my shirt and toss it over my head before bowing lightly at the waist.

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