Page 20

TAELYN

It has been an incredibly long day, and though the sun is barely setting, I’m already longing for my bed.

I sit at my dressing table mirror, staring at my reflection while Skylar brushes my hair.

She’s barely stopped talking long enough to breathe, and I’m trying to follow along, but my thoughts are elsewhere.

I don’t think it’s truly sunk in yet that my mother and the king are gone.

I keep expecting to be able to tell her something, and then it takes my brain a moment to catch up, and I remember I’ll never get to tell her anything again.

“He’s good-looking, though, isn’t he?” Skylar babbles. “I mean, I know you’re not supposed to think that, what with him being your stepbrother and all, but it’s impossible not to see how attractive he is.”

I suddenly realized she’s talking about Ruarok, and I snap my gaze to hers in the mirror.

“Stay away from him, Skylar. I mean it.”

The two of us have gossiped and giggled over plenty of men in our time, so it’s not unusual for her to be talking to me about him.

We’ve discussed, in great detail, each of the admirers who’ve been to the castle to ask for my hand in marriage, and she’s told me about the various males who’ve come in and out of her life, often making me blush with her details about what they get up to in bed—details I’ve yet to experience for myself.

Skylar is in no way as innocent as me, and, for the first time, I find myself worrying about that.

She blinks in surprise. “You mean because he’s half Incubus?”

Like me, Skylar had only just arrived at the castle when Ruarok was ‘banished.’ She’d never gotten the chance to properly meet him before he was locked away. I brought Skylar here with me from Torremora when my mother married the king.

“Yes, because he’s half Incubus.” I can’t hide the tension in my tone.

“Ten years ago, you warned me of the prince’s reputation, and it would seem even ten years locked in a cage hasn’t changed him.

” I remember how he spoke to me about sex when we’d made our way into the city—as though it was completely normal to speak to a princess in such a way.

“You know what that means, don’t you? I imagine he’s…

hungry. He might not be able to control himself. ”

“Control himself not to do what?”

Is she teasing me? “You know what he does to people?”

She lowers her voice to a whisper. “He gets power from having sex with them.”

“Yes, and he can make people want to have sex with him, too, even when they might not want to.”

She purses her lips, her smooth forehead furrowing. “I heard that Incubi aren’t capable of doing that, that the desire has always got to be inside the person first. The Incubus just helps them break through any…inhibitions…they might have.”

The memory of Ruarok naked in front of me, his huge cock already half erect, jumps into my head.

My face flushes with heat. I’d thought about what it must be like to feel him pushing inside me, hadn’t I?

Had they been my own thoughts, or had Ruarok placed them into my head?

Had he been removing my inhibitions then?

I can’t trust my own thoughts and reactions around him. Is that what Cirrus meant when he said Ruarok was dangerous?

“I don’t want you going near him, Skylar. I’m commanding you now, as your princess and your future queen.”

I can practically sense her rolling her eyes at me.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “I get the message.”

What is it about the thought of Ruarok having sex with Skylar that’s getting me so riled up?

Is it that I’m trying to protect my friend?

Do I not want to see her getting hurt? I want to convince myself those are the reasons, but if I was truly honest with myself, I’d acknowledge that coil of bright green jealousy inside me.

It’s so ridiculous. I have far bigger things to worry about right now than my stepbrother’s sex life. I shouldn’t even be thinking about it. The people I love most in the world are dead, and I’m going to have to rule the kingdom—a kingdom that is falling into the earth because of the rot.

I turn my thoughts to the darkness infesting the city. I find I prefer dealing with that to thoughts of my stepbrother. I’m on safer ground, ironically .

We are a people of magic. There must be a way to stop the rot, or at the very least, slow it down.

But nothing could be done in Torremora, so why should things be any different here?

Where would we all go, if the rot should destroy the whole of Askos?

It’s a long journey to the next kingdom, and why should they take us?

A deal was made between my mother and the king to accept our people, those migrants in need of a home, but what do I have to offer a neighboring kingdom for a safe home?

Only myself.

I swallow hard at the thought. It might come to that. Would I sacrifice myself—my body, at least—to a neighboring prince or king in return for a safe place for my people to go? Isn’t that essentially what my mother did? I might have to. I might not have a choice.

If my people left and tried to travel to the next kingdom without there first being an agreement put in place, the inhabitants of that kingdom would be well within their right to kill anyone who trespassed on their lands.

They’d be seen as raiders, stealing produce and resources from the locals, even if it were only done to survive.

If I were to make such a deal, it wouldn’t necessarily mean security, at least not for long. There’s no way of knowing where the rot will go next. I could promise my hand in marriage and move as many of my subjects as possible, only to find the rot had spread there as well.

I let out a sigh and close my eyes.

“I’m sorry, Princess,” Sklyar says, placing her hand on my shoulder to offer me some comfort. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was trying to take your mind off things. I understand things are very difficult for you.”

I cover her hand on my shoulder with my own. “I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry, too. You’re right, what’s happened is terrible, but I have to remain strong. I fear we have worse to come.”

Tears shimmer in my eyes, blurring the room around me. I blink them away, not wanting her to see me cry. It’s not as though she hasn’t seen me at my most vulnerable times before, but things have changed now. I’m not only a princess; I’m going to be queen.

She continues to brush my hair in long, soothing strokes, and I close my eyes.

I tell myself that I’m allowed to be troubled—it would be strange if I weren’t.

Just because I’m to be queen doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to experience emotions like everyone else.

It’s just how I react to them that must be different.

When I’m ready for bed, Skylar leaves me.

I’m completely exhausted, and, though I have a lot on my mind, I’m sure I’ll fall straight to sleep.

I crawl beneath the covers, and though the mattress is soft and the blankets warm, I toss and turn.

The loss of my mother—something I’ve been trying hard not to think about all day—swells up inside and overwhelms me.

Now I’ve got nothing to distract me, grief clutches at my heart.

I can’t fully comprehend that I’m never going to see her again.

A whimper of pain escapes me, followed by a great, gulping sob.

I cry with my face pressed against the pillow and my fingers clutching the sheets. I cry until utter exhaustion has taken hold, and finally, the depths of sleep call me.

I dream of the castle shaking around me. I’m barefoot in my room, barely keeping my balance. The stone floor collapses and drops away. The ceiling comes down around my ears, and then I’m falling, falling, falling?—

I jerk myself awake. Someone is screaming, and it takes me a moment to realize it’s me.

I clamp my mouth shut, silencing myself.

Balthorne and Skylar must have been exhausted, too, not to have heard me from their rooms down the hall, but then the bedroom door flies open.

“Princess? Are you all right?”

But it’s not Balthorne, or Skylar. It’s Ruarok.

My heartbeat gradually slows, and I take a deep, shaky breath. “Yes, I’m sorry. It was just a bad dream.”

He doesn’t wait to be invited, but instead kicks the door shut behind him and strides across the room.

His black shirt is open, revealing the muscles of his pecs and abs beneath.

On his bottom half he’s wearing loose pants.

He sits on the side of my bed and then reaches out to take my hand.

The boldness of his actions shocks me. I’ve never had a man sit on my bed before, not even Balthorne.

That he’s semi-undressed also makes me nervous.

“You’re safe,” he tells me.

I should pull away from him, but I can’t.

All my focus is on where our skin meets, fingers to fingers, palm to palm.

He seems to sense me staring, but instead of pulling away, he leans in.

He reaches out with his other hand and smooths my hair away from my face, and I’m conscious that it’s slightly damp from my sweat.

His hand lingers there, stroking my hair just as Skylar had been doing with the brush before bed.

The energy between us is charged. I’m not sure I can breathe, and I’ve completely forgotten about my nightmare. All that exists is this moment between us.

A warning bell sounds in my head— this is your stepbrother, and he’s an Incubus!— but I completely ignore it.

Slowly, cautiously, as though he’s giving me the time to stop him, he leans in and brushes his lips to mine. They’re soft, and warm, and he smells so good, of fresh soap and a hint of smoke from the fire.

Every part of my brain screams that this is wrong, that I shouldn’t let him do this for so many reasons, but my body is alight and greedy for him. Is that because of what he is? Is he working his magic on me right now?