Page 20 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)
Reynard
I watched the woman as she was escorted away. Once the door finally closed, I dropped heavily onto the nearest seat and hid my face in my hands.
‘What the fuck just happened?’ I muttered, attempting to control my breathing to avoid triggering the spasms.
My mind was spinning.
Nothing made sense, but even with everything that had just happened, it was her eyes that haunted me.
My tongue darted out and probed my swollen lip again, the damaged skin pulsing dully.
A stark reminder that my dream had almost turned me into the beast she had accused me of being, that my body had betrayed me at the worst possible moment.
I shifted, adjusting myself, and pressed on the seam of my trousers. Uneasiness built in my chest. I was a ruthless man, but not a violent one, and not one easily aroused by a pretty face.
Even in that blasted forest, there was no wrongness in my touch, and my only concern was her safety.
I was fascinated by her, yes. Her delicate features and unbending spirit as she fought off her attackers were captivating, but more than anything, I wanted to protect her.
I hadn’t reacted well after seeing her tattoo, but I’d . . .
No. I am not the villain in this story, and I won’t let you paint me as one, Viper.
I grabbed a quill and paper and wrote a quick note to the northern garrison requesting that the commander send a man to Wiosna to confirm her story.
This mess could not be allowed to continue. I needed to get to the bottom of this, whatever the cost. Her accusation burned a hole in my mind, but more than clearing my name, I needed proof she could be trusted before I disclosed that her poison still burned in my veins.
I should have called Riordan and ended the issue here and now, but after we’d interrogated Boyan, I realised that even a psychic mage could be deceived. I knew the grand master had lied about the hairpin . . . I just didn’t know how he did it.
I would still use my truthseeker, but this time I wouldn’t trust my life entirely to magic, not where Roksana was concerned.
I had to give it to her. She’d stood her ground. Warriors much stronger than her had cowered in fear when facing my anger, yet the woman had looked me in the eye as I held her dainty neck and had demanded to be let go.
My hand flexed. I could still feel her pulse fluttering under my fingertips, as fragile as a sparrow’s, even when she had confronted me as if I weren’t the king but some village idiot refusing to see reason.
Maybe I was an idiot, as I hadn’t learnt my lesson. The fascination that had awakened when I first saw her was still there, brought back by her touch and dubious story, fighting with my need for justice.
‘Gods, what the fuck is wrong with me?’ I groaned, annoyed that I found her courage so appealing. Loneliness might be messing with my head, but this was seriously out of control.
I wasn’t a chaste man, but whom I chose to bed, and when, had always been rational.
The ladies of the court, with their fake smiles and low curtsies, were well aware of it.
They were intent on using me for money or power, so I let them mount me like a fucking stallion without remorse in exchange for whatever benefit they wanted.
My would-be assassin had at least earned my respect for not begging or trying to seduce her way out of the situation. Gaining access to the king’s chambers was no simple job—
Wait, how did she get in here? I thought, walking back towards my nightstand.
The room was still dark. The single fae lantern illuminated very little, so I spoke the command to activate the main lights, and my chambers were flooded with radiance. I consciously looked around, checking for anything amiss.
My bedroom was spacious, and although it seemed cluttered, I knew where everything was, so it was easy to see that nothing had been touched.
It looked like she had gone straight to my bed, stopping only to trigger the lantern.
Now, adding to the general chaos, there was a pile of female clothes, unmistakable evidence that tonight’s escapade wasn’t a dream.
I looked at the clothes and huffed humourlessly.
She must have thought so low of me when I ordered her to strip.
It hadn’t been about humiliating her, but I’d enjoyed the defiance in her eyes before she yielded, her response delighting me in its simplicity.
Eat shit and die —when had anyone spoken to me so brazenly as that?
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I reached for a bottle of mead. I didn’t bother with a glass, gulping the contents straight from the source before leaning back, replaying everything, hoping to see something I’d missed.
My gaze drifted back over to her clothes, and I bent over, picking up the simple white shirt.
It smelled faintly of flowers, and when I brought it to my nose, I recognised the scents of lilac and honey, along with something else—an intoxicating, feminine fragrance that made my head spin.
I made the mistake of burying my face into the fabric and inhaling deeply.
‘What the . . .’ I groaned, dropping to my knees, fighting the urge to rush after her.
‘No!’ I slammed my hand on the stone floor. The pain of the impact brought me clarity, but the memory of her eyes, luminescent in the fae light and brimming with tears, wouldn’t fade. I could still feel her silky skin under my hands, the rapid thump of her heartbeat as she tried to speak.
‘Fuck, woman,’ I muttered, throwing the fabric away as if it had burned me. It was a humiliating spectacle, but it explained my odd behaviour. She was an expert poisoner who’d not only crafted the poison that was slowly killing me but an aphrodisiac that muddled my senses, stripping me of reason.
‘Congratulations, Viper. You’ve bested me in ways I didn’t expect,’ I muttered, blowing my nose to remove the rest of her scent.
I should have felt reassured that I’d caught her little trick, but my lack of control irritated me. I adjusted myself again, wondering if slapping the damn thing would make it lie down before briefly considering releasing my pent-up tension in the easiest way a man can.
A grim laugh escaped me at that thought. It would be the lowest of lows, but if a hint of an aphrodisiac and a pretty face had made me so hard, maybe it was time to satisfy my needs before abstinence left me falling prey to this honey trap.
I needed something, or rather someone, to distract me from such intrusive thoughts. I pulled the bell cord, and moments later, a sleepy servant opened the door to my bedroom.
‘You called, sire?’
‘Send for Riordan. Tell him it’s an emergency and to attend immediately. I’ve had a visitor.’
At the words ‘emergency’ and ‘visitor,’ the servant’s spine snapped as straight as a rod. He glanced around, noticing the clothes on the floor, and panic flashed through his visage.
‘And their body?’ he stuttered, his breath quickening with each passing minute.
‘You can stop looking. There are no bodies nor blood to clean up,’ I snapped, and he had the decency to look embarrassed.
‘I will call for Master Riordan immediately. Anything else you need, sire?’
‘Tell the captain of the guard to search my private quarters and interrogate the men on duty tonight. I want his report on what he discovers immediately, no matter how insignificant it may be. That’s all.
’ I waved him off, focusing my gaze on the pile of clothing before leaning forward and searching through it—this time avoiding the lilac scent.
That damn woman gained entrance into my room with a blade and the gods know what else , I thought, frowning at the strange-looking vials, leaving them for Riordan to inspect.
‘Well, I’ll find out tomorrow when Riordan interrogates her . . .’ I said just as the door opened and the tussled head of the mage himself appeared through the gap.
‘Pray tell, what interrogation do I have to perform, and why can’t whatever you’re planning wait until I return from the Care’etavos Empire? Where, mind you, I should be going tomorrow morning ,’ he asked, covering his mouth to stifle a yawn. ‘Why am I awake in the middle of the night?’
The air around Ri’s body shimmered before the aether settled.
I knew mages could always see the magical energy that filled our world and manipulate it to their needs, but those born to the sword and honest work only ever noticed the slightest hints of its existence.
The only time mundane men like me had ever seen the aether completely was when Annika, my brother’s mate, had decimated an undead army in a display of terrifying conduit power.
‘I just wanted to see you and needed someone to share my mead.’
‘Gods, I’m going to hex you one day,’ he muttered under his breath. ‘It’s well past midnight, and I have a long journey ahead.’
‘I heard that, mage.’ I couldn’t help but smile. ‘You can sleep in the carriage, but if my skin turns green or my cock falls off, I’ll know who to blame.’
Riordan sighed as if realising he’d spoken out loud, and he bowed. ‘Blame me for whatever you want, just let me sleep. I’ll serve you with my counsel when I return.’
‘I’m sorry, did you think I was giving you a choice?’ I smirked, pointing to a chair. ‘Now, where were you when an assassin tried to kill me again just moments ago?’
His eyebrows rose but he simply shrugged.
‘In bed, sleeping like a baby. As you are still alive and sitting there wearing a smug grin, I’m assuming you dealt with the fool?
’ He gestured to the pile of clothes. ‘Why did you really call for me? I’m no necromancer to be interrogating bodies or a maid who’ll take out your laundry. ’
‘You know, you’re quite the grumpy bastard when woken from your beauty sleep,’ I said, pouring a generous measure of mead into a goblet and pushing it his direction. ‘Drink. You’ll need it to swallow the news I have.’
Riordan reached for the drink, and I waited until his mouth was full before unveiling my news.