Page 185 of A Touch of Poison
Could I, the terribly proper Lady Katherine—as he’d once called me—get mine pierced?
Maybe. At least being in Elfhame had given me the space to be the kind of person who would consider it.
But there were other things in the fae realm less enjoyable. When he lay back, finished with my nipples, I nestled against him and broached the subject of Princess Nyx’s death, giving Sura’s version of the story. His body grew tight beneath me. “I need to do some research.”
See? The princess was wrong about his loyalty to the Night Queen—it wasn’t blind. He was going to find the truth.
“Was Sura wearing any unusual jewellery? Could be an artefact we’ve seen no record of. Or a potion, perhaps. Did you see her drink anything before telling you all that?”
When I looked up, I found him frowning at the canopy over the bed, and my heart sank. “You think she found a way to lie.”
“She must’ve.”
Hiding a frown, I padded over to the side table and poured us water from a jug that kept drinks cool and fresh.
When I carried our glasses over and knelt on the bed to pass his, he tugged on the hem of the shirt. “I missed this.”
I made a sound of query as I took a long draught of water.
“I didn’t like the reason you were in my suite or how you felt while you were there, but I liked it when you wore my shirts.” He gave a crooked smile, then raised his cup as if to hide it. “You always left your scent on them… and on my pillow.”
I might’ve melted into my drink. Certainly, my heart overflowed.
Before I could say anything more, there was a knock at the door. The guards hadn’t bothered to knock any other time they’d entered our room—maybe they’d heard enough last night to make them wary.
“Enter,” Bastian called, and his wicked smirk should’ve warned me. But fae reactions were quicker than human ones, and the next thing I knew, he’d kicked off the blankets, revealing his very naked body, and snaked his arm around my waist. Somehow I was straddling him, and only the gods knew how I kept my drink from spilling.
The silver-haired guard entered. She didn’t blush, but her gaze trailed over my bare thigh, and she cleared her throat before telling us the princess had requested my company for breakfast.
Bastian grumbled and tugged me against him. “Iwas planning to have you for breakfast.”
I lit up at that promise, but reluctantly made myself presentable while the guard hovered in the doorway. Bastian didn’t make the slightest bit of effort to cover himself up, and remained sprawled in the bed watching me.
When I ducked to give him a kiss, he grabbed my arm and murmured in my ear, “Be safe, Kat.”
“That’s grown increasingly hard since meeting you, but I’ll try.” I flashed him a grin more cocky than I felt and pressed a kiss to his lips before leaving with my escort and manacles.
Last night, I’d let everything free, and now the iron made it as if there wasnothing. No magic tingling on my skin. Nothing to pull close and tight. No risk of killing anyone or making them suffer that awful pain. Just a sickly feeling in my stomach.
I arrived at the private dining room, finding the princess and the man with celestial tattoos already seated. Unease tickling my spine, I joined them at a setting that included a pair of gloves.
“Let’s make a deal.” She smiled, but it was as stiff as her back.
“I’m your prisoner.” As the guard removed my manacles, I narrowed my eyes. “I’m sure I don’t have anything you want.”
“You have Bastian.”
The tickle became a flood of goosebumps. I wanted to get up and walk out. I wanted to go home—to our rooms in the palace, I realised with a jolt. But these were impossible things right now. There was no escape, only a careful treading through this situation—whatever it was exactly. “You’re the one who has him locked up. You don’t need any bargain.”
“He’s pledged his magic to you,” the tattooed man spoke up, voice hard and rough like granite, as though it hadn’t been used in a long while.
“How did you…?” I huffed, embers lighting in my gut. “That heaviness in the air. You’ve been reading my thoughts.”
Get out.I blasted those embers at him, making them flare
His flinching was my reward.
Good. I hoped it hurt. Dipping into my private thoughts—how dare he? They weremine. I had been used as a pawn in men’s games. My body had been touched and pulled around without my permission. My words had been moulded to serve and please others.
