Page 223 of Fated to be Enemies

I shivered on command. “I can do that. I can’t believe you abstained from physical relationships for me.” He had no clue how much that meant to me, especially when he thought I’d died with no chance of returning. “You gave up having a direct heir to the throne.” I knew things like that were important in this land. I leaned down to kiss him, but his kiss lacked luster.

Something strangled me, but it wasn’t from my own happy emotions.

I tensed at the sudden change. Something was wrong.

Straightening, I examined his face, only to see him force a smile.

What would’ve changed his demeanor like that so suddenly?

I froze. No. “If you haven’t had a physical relationship since I was gone, how were you going to have an heir, Kieran?”

“It’s not important, Alina. It won’t happen anyway, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He leaned forward, trying to kiss my breast.

I scrambled off him and the bed and stood. “Who were you planning to have an heir with?” I hoped like hell he didn’t give me a name. If he did, that would make this person more real.

“You died, and I was losing my magic.” He sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair. “Nolan thought that if I took a queen and had an heir, the magic would return to the Winter Court. The line of inheritance from the active king would then be fully intact as intended. She doesn’t mean anything to me, so it doesn’t matter.”

My mouth dropped, and my heart ripped open, agony slicing me in two. “You’re married?”

“What? No!” He shook his head vehemently. “I’m not.”

I exhaled, my knees nearly giving out. My heart raced from fear that he was with someone else. “Why did you say it like you had promised to wed someone?”

He flinched. “Because I did. But Alina, it doesn’t matter. You and I are lovers. She’s just to be my wife. That’s all.”

Vomit burned my throat. “You’re engaged.” Every principle I stood for was based on trust and faithfulness, and I’d lost my human virginity to someone promised to another. “And you slept with me.”

“I made the promise six months ago to be wed in the next complete seasonal cycle. She agreed to sit on the throne and bear me one heir. After that, I don’t have any commitments to fulfill toward her.”

I placed a hand on my chest, wondering if my heart was still in it. “You promised to have an heir with her. And that’s not important?”

“Alina, this discussion is becoming pointlessly heated.” He stood.

I hated that even as my lungs seemed crushed inside me, I noticed his bare chest and craved to be held in his arms. Worse, I could feel his frustration. I couldn’t change how I felt, and I knew that the first incarnation of me wouldn’t have liked this either. Sharing him wasn’t possible. “You’re right. It is pointless. Because one, if not both of us, will die in the next trial. Well, that might be true, but it doesn’t change the issue. What if the trial hadn’t happened? Not only are you marrying someone else, but you expect me to be fine with you impregnating her?”

He flinched, and guilt swirled from him. “I thought you were dead. And fae can’t break a promise.”

“Who is it?” As much as I didn’t want to know the answer, I needed to. “Do I know her?”

When he averted his gaze, that made it worse.

I didn’t know many people here, but clearly, I did know her. And the problem was I only knew four female Winter fae, and one of them was his sister. That left Leanna, Rowan, and Quinley.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

The name lodged in my throat, and I wanted to choke. “It’s Quinley. Isn’t it?”

His gaze darted back to my face, and he bit his lower lip. “Yes.”

I was certain I was going to vomit. I stumbled to my dresser, no longer comfortable being naked in front of him even though I longed to close the distance between us.

I refused to be that girl. The other woman, the mistress, the lover. The girl who was second choice. I’d grown up around people who didn’t want me, and now my fated mate had promised himself to another. Yes, he’d thought I was dead, and he’d done it because of his weakening power, but that didn’t keep the situation from dredging up a lifetime of baggage. “You need to go.” I grabbed a gown and threw it over my head.

“Mo fhlùr.” He stood and reached for me. “She means nothing to me. You’re the most important person in my life.”

“Mo fhlùr, my ass,” I spat, struggling under the fabric and trying to yank the gown over my body. I wasn’t being elegant, but if I didn’t do something, I’d throw myself into his arms.

“What?” he said. “That makes no sense. My flower, my ass?”

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