Page 10 of Rumpelstilzchen

The Royal Shadow let go of Boy’s hand and leaned back in his chair, then lifted his feet and brought them to rest casually upon Boy’s thighs. The rough stone was unforgiving beneath his knees, but he didn’t dare complain. Instead, he eyed the strawberry, and when its sweet aroma wafted to him, he inhaled deeply.

Warily, he lifted his gaze and found the Queen’s Shadow watching him with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. There was a hunger in those dark eyes that pinned him firmly in place. Boy returned his view to the strawberry when what he interpreted as a predatory smile spread across the man’s face.

“Will you let me feed you?”

Boy’s mind spun as he tried to process the emotions that swarmed his insides like bees—fear, trepidation, and something that felt dangerously close to excitement.

He knew, from the moment his father offered him in lieu of the tithe, that he would die at the end of this journey, but what he hadn’t expected was any of… this. Where was the dark spirit who had earlier forced his way into the cell, rattled the door, and whispered promises of death? The geist before him was at odds with the terrifying tales his brother had told. Boy’s existence felt like a fever dream.

When that gloved hand held out the strawberry, Boy ceased all wondering about what might be occurring in the mercurial geist’s mind, and his entire being followed the bright red fruit closely.

In a swift and unexpectedly savage move, the Queen’s Shadow closed his fist around it so tightly that the sticky juices he had teased earlier oozed from between his leather-clad fingers.

Boy didn’t move, didn’t breathe, and didn’t blink.

He shouldn’t have been surprised—but he was. Why conjure the strawberry, offer the strawberry, then destroy the strawberry? It was almost as if the shadows and the man were at odds: one nurturing and one merciless. A ball of hot anticipation coiled deep within his stomach.

That vice-like grip didn’t relent until Boy raised his face and looked deep into the geist’s swirling black eyes. “When I ask you a question, you will answer.”

Pulpy drops splattered onto the riding boots still in Boy’s lap.

“Lick it up.”

Boy faced a dilemma. Did he really want to waste his final moments working out the deeper machinations of the geist’s behaviour, or instead simply accept his lot and go for what he wanted the most?

Dutifully, and without hubris, Boy stuck out his tongue and lowered his head. He bent until he could taste the salt and the smoke and the leather, and he lapped until he tasted the sweet, ripe juice of the fruit. Enamoured, he licked again.

And again, once more.

He licked with fervour until the boot was clean and his mouth was awash with the taste of summer. He licked until a gloved finger worked its way under his chin and commanded his head up. Boy failed to suppress the soft whimper at its loss. The strawberry was everything he had wanted it to be, and the intense flavour lingered on Boy’s tongue.

The Queen’s Shadow pressed his middle finger to Boy’s lips. “Shhhh.” In concentric circles, he smeared the sticky, sweet juice over Boy’s mouth.

That glazed look in those dark eyes surely matched his own. What was this madness between them?

Thick shadows coiled around Boy, cooling his overheated skin, and the tension that had knotted itself within him dissipated. This was the same magick that swirled in the eyes of the Queen’s Shadow, eyes that looked at him with an almost painful intensity.

But Boy was slowly learning to read the messages hidden in their depths. So when the leather riding boots retracted from his lap, he remained perfectly still. Sure enough, strong legs were instantly planted on either side of Boy’s knees, bracketing him securely between them.

The man leaned forward in his chair and deftly unfastened the fine thread that bound the collar of his shirt. Was he overheated too? The thought that the legendary spirit was as undone by the happenings in this cell as he was messed with Boy’s tentative equilibrium.

To accommodate the chair’s backrest, he split the long tails of his coat, which stopped just short of the wet stone floor. It was a good thing, too, because only now did Boy notice the golden embroidery on the hem that depicted small skulls, many with their mouths open in anguish. Despite the macabre nature of the design, he thought it would be a shame for them to become tarnished with the grime that coated the cell.

“Would you like a drink?” The geist’s voice was deep and calm, almost soothing.

It raised the hairs along the back of Boy’s neck, and he shook his head.

“Are you thirsty?”

Boy could sense those black eyes following his every move. The man’s raw desire seemed to burn through to Boy’s very soul, and he shivered involuntarily. But he still hadn’t answered the question, and that the Queen’s Shadow had asked the same thing twice meant that Boy had chosen incorrectly the first time. He hurriedly nodded his head. Yes, he was thirsty.

“Use your words.” The low growl that backed the demand rolled over Boy’s skin.

“Y-yes.” His voice was weak, even to his own ears.

With a steady hand, the man poured a generous glug of amber liquid into the same cut glass tumbler he had drunk from earlier. It swirled and splashed and soaked up the flickering golden light from the lamp, and Boy tracked the motion as if mesmerised.

The Queen’s Shadow took a slow sip, then held out the glass.