Page 40 of The Blood Queen
“I have no doubt my father spoke to you already,” I say demurely, “but I wanted to discuss—”
The music swells, and Keryth smoothly lets me slide away from him before pulling me back, closer than before. Keryth is not only fae but handsome. A lethal combination. He’s used to power, and he’s used to not having to use it to get what he wants. His arms are taut under my touch; this man is all muscle as he grips me just a little too tightly.
Asserting ownership and cutting off my words. I can’t help it; my eyes go to Samson again. He’s noticed the way Keryth holds me; he’s probably noticed the frustration radiating off me.
Samson, keep your rage tamped down, or so help me, I’ll wallop you all the way back to England. I know he won’t lose control here. He won’t let this plan—our plan—fail.
Unfortunately, these thoughts distract me enough that Keryth redirects the conversation easily.
“I met your mother, you know,” Keryth says.
My feet falter, and he smirks.
“Then you see why humanity is worth protecting, I’m sure,” I start.
“What I can see is why your father has a certain…proclivity for humans,” the man continues.
His touch is light but purposeful. His fingers press into me, reminding me of his power, but his thumb brushes gently against my skin, promising something else.
I can use that.
“The fae and humans are drawn to each other,” I say in a soft voice.
Keryth snorts. “The humans come to us like moths to flame. And when they burn as they die, they thank us for it.”
I incline my head. The music is faster now, our steps quicker, but he doesn’t let me go. This music is designed to make our dance swift without our bodies tiring, and I let the song take over, focusing on what to say instead of how to move.
“You forget,” I say.
“Hmm?” He acts almost bored.
I pull just to the edge of his arm’s reach, not tugging free of him, his grip on my hand like a leash. “You are prince of the selkies, no?”
His eyes flare. “You know that.”
“Selkies are wild and free,” I say. They take the form of seals, delighting in the icy waters of the sea. “And yet they claim human spouses.” They magically remove their seal skin, donning the shape of a human when they come ashore.
“You forget yourself,” Keryth says coldly. “A selkie keeps her skin, ready to return to the sea as soon as she is done playing with whatever fisherman has captured her attention.”
The stories are full of the bad men who dare to try to force a selkie to stay within their control, to bind her to a house that is not her home. In those stories, the men steal the selkie’s seal skin that she sheds to be human, and they hide the skin, forcing her to remain against her nature.
But unlike Keryth, I have been to the human side of his realm. I have swum in the North Sea, and I have spoken with the selkies whose stories are not tragedies, who find love and freedom in their relationships.
“You’ve spent too much time on this side of the portals,” I tell Keryth with a soft smile and a sweep of my gown as I spin into his arms. “Humans are wild and free too.”
“They are too easily caught in our thrall to be free,” Keryth snorts. “And wild? Their lives are too short to truly learn the meaning of that word.”
He holds me against his chest, his arms tight around me, too tight.
I don’t try to break free.
Instead, I tilt my face toward his again, and when I smile now, I make sure to show my teeth. “It is my human blood that is savage,” I say with all the fury that burns in my gut. “And only my fae nature that keeps me from spilling yours.”
Keryth snorts, impressed by my words, and his hold slackens. Confidence, I remind myself. It is the closest thing a human has to a glamour. I could, of course, make one for myself, but these fae are powerful enough to see through that magic, and it would offend them. But they cannot know that my smile is forced if I don’t let them see that.
I don’t step away from him, my spine straight, my face hard.
“You know why I am here,” I say in a low voice, my eyes painfully straining to continue looking up at him. I know I have his full attention.
