Page 10

Queen Farah

Power swept into her. Power she'd bargained from the gods herself. Strength none of her sisters could claim they had. Her nails dug into Reed's flesh. His pulse thrummed under her palm where she pressed it into his throat. Her entire body leaned into him, choking out the air between them. Reed lifted a hand to hers, his gaze never breaking its hold. His fingers curled around hers, prying her grip from him while his face was darkening to red. She shook with rage as she realized how easily he was pulling her hand off of him, even as she tapped into the strength she'd stolen.

His fingers circled her wrist, holding her hand away from him as he took a deep breath. "You can't hurt me as easily as the man you took advantage of."

The issue was, she should be able to. Farah had killed a guardsman, sacrificed him, and drank his blood to gain the physical strength he'd had. Farah had her strength plus the strength of a man ten times her size and Reed was still able to pluck her off of him like grapes from a vine.

"How are you so strong?" she asked the question as if she hadn't just tried to kill him.

"You should have let me on the guard." A muscle in his jaw ticked.

Farah turned, ripping her wrist from his grip, and began pacing the small balcony. On one side of her, she could hear the chatter and music of her party and the other the chirping of insects and the calls of animals away through the night. The stars twinkled and winked from their distance. And Reed was still there watching her with more curiosity than anger.

Shouldn't he be angry?

Farah stopped walking. "Why did you come here?"

"I want the crown," he said slowly as if it had been stupid of her to even ask.

"It's that simple?"

If Reed was going to answer that question, Farah would never know because the balcony door was opened and a servant poked her head out.

"I'm sorry for interrupting, my Queen, but there are men asking to speak with you."

Of course there were.

Farah shook her head at Reed, not even pausing to give him an apology before she drifted back into the dining hall. New plates of appetizers had been brought inside, fresh steam rising off the food. The violinist still played in the corner and men were still split into similar small groupings.

Quite a few conversations lulled as she stepped into the room and Reed followed behind her. She forced a polite smile onto her face and tried to concentrate on the clicking of her heels as she put space between her and him.

Zacharias was waiting for her at the table. He offered the queen a glass of red wine, his own drink held closer to his body. Farah took the cup and brought it up to her lips, letting the drink work its way down her throat and warm her stomach.

"I thought you could use a little break from all the new faces." He smiled gently. "You're not much of a people person."

He wasn't wrong, though the queen was surprised he'd said that. Zacharias continued talking a steady hum of words she wasn't fully registering. She nodded along, dutifully, but her attention remained pinned on Reed as he rejoined his group.

How had he been that strong? Farah’s skin burned with the want for what he had. She'd sacrificed for the strength she had now, and she'd do it again.

Zacharias’ hand brushed her arm as he said something with a laugh. She chuckled and reminded herself to smile. He continued his conversation with little input from the queen. After a while, someone whisked her off into another dance and stiff conversation.

All the while Farah watched Reed. He never turned and met her gaze again even though the queen felt as though she was burning a hole straight through his jacket. She withstood a few other suitors before Reed excused himself from his group and headed toward the doors. Not a word to the queen. Not a wave nor a nod. He was just gone as the doors swung shut quietly behind him.

Farah held up a hand to the man who was talking to her. He was tall, lanky, and pushed the glasses on his face up his nose as the queen stepped away from him.

"Excuse me," she muttered before turning to leave the room. His response was lost behind her, her vision tunneled on those doors.

A servant stepped up pulling the door open wide for his queen. Farah sighed as the room’s noise was muffled behind the door. She looked down the hall, finding it empty. Had he really left?

She was moving again, this time more quickly. Her empty halls became a blur of gray stone until she reached the massive doors that led outside. Two guards were posted there, both standing at attention.

"Did he leave?" she snapped.

The pair nodded. One of them stepped forward holding out his hand with a small black box nestled into his palm.

"He left this for you. Said it was a gift."

The fury that was building inside of her sputtered out. He left her a fucking present? What sort of game was he playing?