Page 34 of Golden Queen (Idrigard #1)

Eleven

I gave up just after midnight, casting off those chains and throwing a dark cloak around my shoulders. I would knock lightly, and if he was asleep, I would leave.

I only wanted to see him, to spend a few moments alone, to talk more about the events of the day.

Liar, my mind screamed as I padded barefoot across the stones, my thin nightgown swishing around my ankles beneath the cloak whose hood was pulled up over my head.

My heart pounded as I took the servant's stairs and the long, narrow corridor down to the main central hallway. Only a few steps into that main hall, and I could duck back into the safety of the servant's corridor again.

Another long, narrow hall, more stairs, a final dart across the marble floor beyond, and then his door was in front of me.

I lowered my hood, smoothed my hair, and then I lost my nerve with my hand poised to knock. I stood that way for several long minutes, and then I lowered my hand and breathed a shaky breath.

Go back to bed Aelia Seraphem Lithaway! I thought that might’ve been my mother's voice, but that was impossible since I had never heard it before.

Coward, I told myself in my own harsh voice.

Footsteps filtered to me from down the hall. I turned from the door, ready to dart back into the servant's stairs.

I heard the door click open behind me, and a warm breeze ruffled my hair. An arm came around my waist, and I was pulled gently back into the room as the door snicked closed in front of me.

"You were about to be discovered, you mad, reckless woman," he said, releasing me.

I could hear the smile in his voice even before I turned.

When I did turn, my breath rushed out in a long stream. He was nearly naked, wearing only a pair of loose, black sleeping pants that hung dangerously low on his hips.

His broad chest, the one I had apparently only seen the half of in that little room in the brothel, was lean and chiseled—not roughly like the statues of the muscular gods in the cathedral.

Io's chest was smooth, covered by a light dusting of dark hair.

The muscles cut into it promised a strength that I had so far only guessed at.

And that stomach—fates save me. I thought perhaps my tongue was the only way feeling that lean, flat expanse of muscle might be given proper form.

His dark laugh jolted me out of my thoughts, and I met his gaze.

"You're staring, Sera."

I sighed, knowing full well there was no sense in denying it. "So I was."

I jerked my eyes away to inspect the chamber. It was luxurious, all dark wood and supple leather, with little comfortable nooks set around the spacious room.

A wide, curtain-draped bed took up the southern wall, where an arched window looked out across the darkened godsgrass plains.

The room looked distinctly masculine, but also somehow totally unfit for the man who stood in its midst.

"You weren't asleep?" I asked. I was already certain that he had not been.

"I don't sleep very much," he said, eyeing me as I walked around the chamber, running my hands along the shelves.

"I wanted to come and make sure they had given you proper accommodations in my castle," I said, unable to prevent the smile from crossing my features at the blatant lie.

"Oh, indeed," he said, his voice rich and deep. "I'm certain you'll be heading down to Aben's room next to verify the same?"

I turned to him and smiled again, perhaps a little wickedly. "Oh no, I only provide such personal service to the Lord of Darkwatch himself."

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it, so it didn't surprise me when the smile faded, and he asked in a more severe tone. "What are you doing here, Sera?"

I loved it when he called me Sera. He had done so since I told him it was my name, save for a few occasions when he had called me Aelia for effect.

He could have called me anything, and I think it would have still rolled off that silver tongue sounding like an endearment.

"I was just...out for a stroll," I said, breezily.

"I'm serious, Sera," he said more sharply. "Teasing aside, this is very reckless."

I shrugged. "I wanted to see you," I told him honestly.

He was silent for several long moments. "That is perhaps not a good enough reason to take such a risk."

I turned, approaching him slowly, and when I was just in front of him, I stopped. "I would argue that is the only good reason to do anything. Because you want it badly enough."

I laid my hand against his chest and felt him flinch from the chill of my fingers. He did not move to stop me as I looked up at him.

But when I moved my hand, sliding it across the smooth, broad plane of his chest, feeling the fine black hairs beneath my palm, he reached up to catch my wrist.

"It must be a fine world to live in where you would only need to regard your own wants, but we do not live in that world, Sera."

He held my wrist still, but his hold was gentle. He slid his hand down to cover mine, pressing it against his chest. "You must be mindful of your future. Mindful of your duty to the crown and what chaos would follow in the wake of anyone finding out you were even in my rooms."

"So, you're concerned with my future?" I asked, still staring up at him with that unaccounted-for ache inside me.

"Of course I am," he replied.

I looked down. His admission warmed some part of me, even as it annoyed me to no end.

I reached my other hand out to slide it around his waist, letting my fingers trail around to his back.

He moved quickly then, gathering both my hands and stepping back with a wry grin. "Sit, Sera." He indicated the chaise lounge at the foot of the big bed.

Fine, I thought. I would need to work a little harder to make him realize that I was not a maiden who needed protection. I had no doubt that he wanted me. The moments in the manor house at that damned party told me that much.

I wanted to kill them for looking at you, he'd said.

The memory of it made me turn to liquid heat inside. If we had not been interrupted, I knew he was moments away from being inside of me. I could make him remember that.

I took a seat on the leather chaise, pulling my legs up to curl beneath me under the cloak.

He sat in a chair pushed out from the writing desk, where it looked like he’d been working before I interrupted him. Papers were strewn across the surface, perhaps letters to his brother, the king, regarding the battle with the dead things.

I watched him as started writing again. The scrape and scratch of his pen was the only sound in the room until I spoke. "Tell me, Io—."

His pen stopped, and his eyes shot to mine. He always seemed to react when I used his name.

I could capitalize on that, I thought, even as it made me feel slightly guilty for fighting a bit dirty. He was waiting for me to go on, so I did. "When you take a woman to your bed, Io, does she concern herself with your future?" I leaned back against the rolled cushion of the chaise lounge.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't answer. He didn't need to. Of course she did not concern herself with his future.

"Well then, why must you concern yourself with mine?

Unless you think me less capable of safeguarding my own interests than you are of yours.

I am an adult, accustomed to making my own choices and living with the consequences.

Which in this den of viperous men, is no small feat to have accomplished. "

He smiled a little, though the tension did not leave his shoulders. "I have little doubt that you would run roughshod over them all if you chose, Aelia of Windemere."

I smiled, inordinately pleased with his compliment, even if my strong and independent act was a farce of epic proportions. I had no power except over this choice. At least, that was how it felt as I looked at him, seated at that desk staring back at me with those wickedly sharp eyes.

I could see a bit more of his back from that angle. Sharp lines of black ink ran down the center of it. Scales and wings and talons—a massive dragon—Veles, I assumed, drawn on his back by some artist's very talented hand.

He surprised me by rising and stalking across the chamber until he was standing just over me. He looked down at me with an inscrutable expression.

I sat up, sliding my legs over the side of the lounge and rising in the small space until I was staring up at him. I was not a short woman, but his height made him tower over me. We were so close our chests nearly touched.

I reached up and unclasped my cloak. He surprised me again by sweeping it off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor.

"I think you are capable of anything, Sera."

I smiled again as his hands came up to cup my face, thumb gliding over my bottom lip. My heart thundered as he looked at me, still somehow assessing.

His answering smile came quick and breathtaking, sending my already racing heart into the heavens.

And then he kissed me.

He was sweet, honeyed fire, his lips soft, but unyielding as he covered my mouth, tongue tasting as I followed his lead.

His hands ran down the length of my body, igniting little fires of need as they went.

My hands found his chest again, nails scraping as I let my fingers drink in the feel of him, so hot and solid beneath my palms—the smooth, unbroken skin over his heart where I had once plunged a dagger.

The thought of that dagger in his heart while he held me in his arms felt like a knife to my own chest. When had he grown so dear to me, so integral to everything?

He lifted me, clearing the thoughts from my head as his hands cupped the backs of my thighs, wrapping my legs around his waist.

What I thought were flames, I realized had only been sparks, as my body felt like it ignited against him.

"This is so...fucking...stupid," he said, but his smile caught me off guard again as he turned and angled for the bed.