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Her serene demeanor did not falter. “You shall meet Her Majesty at the Offering.”

“What elemental maneuvering is this?” I snarled.

“It is tradition.” She kept her head held high. A smidgen of respect took form inside of me.

“Your traditions, not mine.” I drew my axe free from the holster at my waist.

Still, her deep blue eyes were unmoved. “Are they not one and the same now, Your Highness?”

From my left, I heard a snicker. Nearly imperceptible. But I was the most powerful fae born in millennia.

With an effortless swipe of my axe, I relieved the dark-haired, smirking Goldstone who’d cleared the sand of his right arm.

I fixed my glare on the female, not bothering to wipe the blood from my blade before returning it to its sheath. “Not yet.”

13

VEYKA

A slow, subtle pressure across my stomach roused me from a dreamless sleep to greet the morning. I thanked the Ancestors for every night that I did not dream of the horrors of my past. The water gardens, Arthur’s death…

But it was not morning, I realized as my eyes cracked open. The sunshine that spilled across the balcony and into my bedroom was the bright gold of midday. Before I could lurch upright, that insistent pressure increased.

I was not alone. Parys’ hand slipped down over my belly, past my navel, tangling in the hair above my cunt.

The nightmares I hadn’t had in sleep danced at the edges of my waking consciousness. I arched my hips, urging Parys’ fingers lower, hoping as always that the sensation would drive away the other thoughts that tried to crowd into my tired mind.

He obliged, slipping one finger inside of me while his thumb massaged over my clit.

His thumb drove a strong, steady rhythm. We’d been doing this for months, chasing away our demons. By now, we knew how to bring one another to the thoughtless oblivion of climax.

I reached across the bed, letting my eyes skate over his golden form. Parys was lithe and strong, always in motion. Just like his wind magic. Just now, his cock was hard, pressed against my hip, subtly shifting in time with his finger inside of me.

I reached for it just as a cool breeze flicked up to tease my nipples to tautness.

Sweat beaded on my brow as I pumped him, once, twice.

I pulled my hand away long enough to coat it with my own saliva before sliding it down again, the moisture making my motions slick and smooth. Again and again I moved my hand up and down his shaft, that repetitive motion that I knew would bring him release. A squeeze at the base, a long stroke up, then a subtle twist as my tight fist reached down to bump against his throbbing balls.

He made that sound, low in his throat, that he always made when he was getting close.

I paused, waiting for my own release to rise within me. This wasn’t lovemaking, this was a transaction. Climax for climax, one escape to oblivion traded for another.

Parys did not disappoint me. He slid two fingers inside, abandoning my clit and increasing the speed as he fucked me with his hand. My hips rose up to meet him, my hand resuming its motion on his shaft.

The pressure in my navel built, my release edging closer and closer. Parys cried out, rolling to the side and taking himself in his other hand, careful to avoid spending himself on me. His queen.

In the next second, my own climax flooded over me, my pussy clenching tight and forcing Parys’ hand out. But unlike my companion, no sound fell from my lips.

We lay there in silence.

I tried to close my eyes, willing the oblivion of climax to put me to sleep, where I could hide from my reality for a few hours more. But I’d already slept an entire night and half a day. While my mind might protest, my body was ready to rise.

Beside me, Parys’ breathing evened out. I knew without looking over that he’d dozed off.Bastard.

I also knew that if I looked over to the other side of the bed, there would be an empty gilded chalice, drained of the sleep-inducing tea that Parys had poured down his throat day after day since Arthur’s death.

My brother’s best friend had been more than half in love with his king, though I doubted Arthur had realized it. He’d probably taken the desire glowing in Parys’ eyes at face value. Everyone adored Arthur. I wondered how often Parys, Arthur, and Lyrena had all shared a bed. A beautiful, golden trio—now fractured into nothing but broken pieces.