Page 66 of Royal Hunt
Gregory leaned against the wall, crossing his arms across his chest. “There was a time you liked me, you know.” He pouted, looking up at me from underneath his lashes.
I sighed, but he continued on in earnest. “Girls sometimes do this thing where they want to fix what’s broken. I noticed you tried to do it back at the manor with the horses all the time. Remember Dusty?”
I blinked at the non-sequitur, memories filtering back to me. “Yeah, I remember,” I admitted quietly.
“He broke his ankle in the pasture. Marcus wanted to slit his throat then and there, but you wouldn’t allow it. Do you remember what happened to Dusty?”
I swallowed heavily. I did. He’d suffered for weeks, refusing to eat or drink. In the end I’d given in and allowed Marcus to do what needed to be done, but only after the poor thing had suffered needlessly.
“The situations aren’t remotely the same,” I argued. “Ellis isn’t a horse.”
Gregory pursed his lips. “No. He’s a king. It’s worse.” He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up every which way. “Look, I get it if you’re doing it to try to be queen. That’s an admirable goal. And I almost understand that.” He laughed, before quickly sobering. “But if you think you can somehow fix him, you need to take a step back. The guy’s got problems.”
The honest concern shining through his voice was the only reason I put my dagger away. I closed my eyes to take a deep breath, then opened them.
How I wished we could return to those days of our youth, the days before the fae had come, back when the only danger was getting caught listening to Gregory’s lessons and going without my evening pudding. Life was much easier, then.
“Goodbye, Gregory.”
He sighed, his eyes glittering with calculation. “Can I have one last hug?”
I huffed. If that was what it took to appease him, then fine. “Of course. Come here.”
He wrapped his arms around me, and whispered in my ear. “I’m sorry.”
My brow furrowed. “For what—”
He punched me hard in my temple, and I went out like a light.
Twenty One
Iwoke up freezing and for one terrified, agonizing second, I thought I was back in the games. My eyes snapped open and a dreary sky greeted me. I jerked my head to the side, fully expecting to see the high walls of our prison pen.
Instead I was treated to the sight of Gregory’s ass just above and ahead of me, his head bobbing in time with the cart as he drove us down the road.
Son of a bitch.
I quickly took stock of where things stood; I wasn’t tied up or bound in any way, and I was dressed in heavier, northern clothes with my gloves and my sturdy boats. My knife and its sheath were gone.
If Gregory wanted to keep his man parts, he better not have been the one that changed me.
Ok. If I wasn’t bound, some messed up part of Gregory’s mind must think I truly wanted to go home. He’d made sure I was prepared for the weather and was transporting me in a cart–the mode of transportation he hated the most.
Clearly he cared for me, even if it was warped and twisted.
I would need to use that to get out of this.
My throat tightened when I thought of Ellis. He’d be upset; he would think I left voluntarily. I wasn’t sure why, but I couldn’t bear him thinking that I willingly left him; especially after promising he’d never be alone. The thought opened up a physical ache deep in my chest that—
Oh fuck.
“Awake back there?”
I jerked at the sound of Gregory’s voice, light and uncaring as he twisted in his seat to look at me, the reins held loosely in his hands.
“You fucking hit me!” I shrieked at him, scrambling to sit up in the cart.
Gregory had the decency to blush, but it was clear he didn’t regret his actions. “You needed away from that fae.… He was playing tricks on your mind.”
