Page 34 of The Dead Queen

I’m no stranger to intimacy. I’ve been taking herbs to prevent pregnancy since I was old enough to learn what they are. I’ve had my fun in the hay bales with clumsy boys who didn’t know where to put their hands. I’ve let battle-shocked soldiers in the borderlands fumble against me in the dark, desperate to feel alive. They never really saw me, and I never let them. It was touch for the sake of touching, shallow and fleeting in the shadows. It was a way to forget the horrors of war.

But this … this is altogether different.

My fingers grasp the front of Hunter’s shirt, clutching him closer, as if his body is the only thing keeping me from coming undone. Our kisses grow more desperate, the air between us charged. This is scandalous and, if truth be told, a long time coming—and there’s no one here to see us. Warmth grows inside me, pooling in a low, delicious ache. I want this. I want him.

He leans down to kiss along the curve of my neck, and I shiver. I grab his hair in my fist, urging him to kiss harder. Something in me longs to feel the bite of teeth on my skin, the sting of need. I tilt my chin up to expose the length of my neck. He brushes his lips along my racing pulse, and I moan.

My breath comes out in ragged bursts as I shift my hips against his, feeling a delicious thrill at his hard length. He moans against my lips, and the power I have over him makes my entire body flush hotter.

Hunter guides me several steps backward until my spine presses against the stone mausoleum wall. I gasp at the shock of cold, but it only makes the fire inside of me burn hotter. There’s a delicious, aching need that’s tightening inside me. I wrap one leg around Hunter’s waist, my skirts falling to expose my skin to the cool air. He grips my thigh and digs his fingers into my flesh. The pain makes my lust ignite, growing into an uncontrollable blaze inside of me. I tighten my fist in his golden hair, desperate for more pressure. More heat and friction.

Every thought disappears, and I am left breathless. I am lost in this flurry of passion that feels too strong for me to stop ... until I open my eyes. Through the mausoleum window, my mother’s marble statue stares down at us, haloed in moonlight.

What am I doing? I’m forgetting who I am, what I stand for. And what must be done.

I release him and turn my head away from his desperate kisses. His eyes are unfocused, his lips swollen, his cheeks flushed. But Hunter is every bit the gallant knight—he doesn’t press me, doesn’t try to reason or coax. He leans one hand on the wall behind my head and for a few moments we both pant, collecting ourselves. We listen to the night around us as we wait for our beating hearts to settle.

“Too fast,” he says, misinterpreting my reluctance to continue.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He leans his forehead against mine again. “I’ll wait for you. As long as it takes.”

And what if it takes forever? I think, but don’t say.

When I look into his chestnut eyes, there’s a sincerity there that’s startling. He deserves a nice girl. One who will be content being his wife and having his babies, not one who sneaks into dungeons and brings the wrath of the king wherever she goes. This man will follow me to the edge of the world before he would find another, better girl to love. But I can’t let that happen. I can’t drag him down with me.

Someday, I will have to hurt Hunter. Badly.

I just hope I’m strong enough to do it.

Chapter 12

There was a time when the fae lived among mortals. They feasted together, worked alongside each other, and, in rare cases, wed one another. The great human kings and queens of old took fae husbands and brides, wooed by their enchanting powers and captivating beauty. From their unions, the seeds of shadow and light power sprouted.

Sunlight bleeds through the library window, creeping across the page of my open book as I read. I’ve spent the better part of the afternoon delving into the origin story of corpse wolves. I’m trying to discover how they came into existence, how long they survive in their state of constant decay, how many there are ...

How to kill them. Again.

As centuries passed, men grew more bloodthirsty. They stole, they lied, and they fought. They started wars and killed each other over greed and power. Eventually, the fae grew tired of their human neighbors and fled north, where humans were few and far between. But the power that they left behind in the hearts of human kings remained, giving more fuel for fire between them.

As the power of light became the dominant strain in the blood of men, shadow power became something to be feared. So, the light wielders saw the opportunity to push the dark ones north, to follow the fae who fled centuries before. The power of light grew strong in the southern lands, while the north grew ever darker in its wake.

At the front of the library, the large oak doors open with a clang. I bristle as footsteps echo on the marble floors, interrupting my concentration. I try to block them out as I read.

No good southerner knows for certain when the Dead Queen was reborn, or how her shadow powers morphed into reanimating the dead. However, one thing is forever true: To travel north into the Kingdom of the Dead is certain—eternal—death.

The footsteps grow closer and I try to will them away, but it’s no use. I’m tempted to hide in the shadows, but my scarlet gown is hardly discreet. A palace messenger in copper and cream livery rounds the corner. He spots me sitting on the window bench and heads in my direction, a look of relief crossing his face.

“Your Highness,” he says when he stops in front of me. “Your presence is requested in the gardens.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when does my father request an audience in public?”

He shakes his head. “No, your majesty, it’s your betrothed.”

It’s out of character for Hunter to send someone to fetch me instead of coming to the library himself. Suspicion grows in my stomach, but I’m desperate to know if Hunter snuck into the kennels last night. If the Wolf survived.

I close the cover of the book in my lap and set it on the window seat for later. “Do you know what this is about?”