Page 13 of The Bone King and the Starling

THE QUEEN

T he king leaves me for a short time and while I hear commotion in the great hall, I can’t hear at all what is being said. There’s a chorus of voices though, mostly male. The sounds of trouble, a rowdy discourse, followed finally by loud cheers. The king returns to me shortly after that.

His expression is, as ever, inscrutable but when he glances at the tray on the bed, the stern expression he wore softens. The smallest smile graces one corner of his mouth, entirely transforming this imposing male into one I can almost imagine dining with every night. Almost.

“You’ve eaten,” he breathes.

“I have.”

“Good. Would you like more?”

“Oh no, I’m full, my lord. Thank you. It was very generous of you to feed the thralls and cooks like you did. I don’t think many other guests would have, even those with the means.”

The king grunts and pulls a seat next to the bed. He begins to eat in earnest from the tray, which is so full, it could have fed me for four days. “I think you might be surprised by the benevolence of other leaders. You have had the misfortune of having Olec and Rosalind as your only examples of leadership thus far. Among the twelve villages I have visited across Wrath in the past two years, only four maintain the practice of keeping thralls and in none of the others are thralls treated as appallingly as they are here.”

He speaks so matter-of-factly, without maintaining my gaze, that I feel compelled to believe him even if his words seem so unbelievable. “Maybe, Olec and Rosalind can learn from another example,” I whisper, wondering if the king speaks true on the promises he made to punish them…and that I won’t have reason to fear the repercussions of whatever punishment he chooses.

The king makes a gruff sound I don’t understand and sucks a piece of pork into his mouth in a way that I find oddly…salacious. His gaze flashes to mine and I start. Heat stirs in my chest. “Yes. Olec and Rosalind have learned what happens when my people are mistreated,” he says cryptically. “The thralls have been released from their duties. It will take some time to restructure your village — there were more thralls than I thought — and while the former thralls have been encouraged to continue their existing duties, they have been compensated for their work and will continue to be compensated.”

My eyebrows pull together, my chest feels hot. “From what coffers, my lord?” I immediately bite my bottom lip, aware that this knowledge is so far beyond the scope of my duties and my rank. I go to apologize, but the king seems to think nothing of it.

He answers right away. “To start, from Olec and Rosalind’s personal coffers. Additionally, the grain you produce in your village is substantial. You are my second largest grain supplier and Rudabeth, my largest, is a village with ten times your population. The success of their production draws many to the city. Winterbren appears destitute and derelict by contrast, and yet, Rosalind and Olec were in possession of many precious gems and quite a bit of gold.”

“Truly?” I gasp, shocked. Though…perhaps not that shocked. Perhaps, I shouldn’t be shocked at all.

He nods. “They removed the gold and gems from these chambers before I took them. They were moved to Olec’s man, Torbun’s residence, where Olec and his wife have been staying. Those gems alone will be enough to fairly compensate all thralls for many months. Possibly a year or more. And then profits from the grain supply can be used to supplement when that runs out. The farmers, however, should be the recipients of that profit, minus a small tithe — much smaller than the one they were offering up to Olec and Rosalind before.”

My brows scrunch, my fists clench. That same cold rage I’ve only felt in recent days crawls up my back and covers my head. “B-but Rosalind always maintained that the tithe was so large because you requested it.”

“A fact that I have corrected. I didn’t bring my books but I offered enough history to repudiate that claim to your townspeople. I hope that you may simply take my word for it.” He smirks.

Shock. I can’t believe it. His easy way with me, or his words.

Our village has always been poor. I thought…that was simply our lot. I did not know that Rudabeth, a thriving city I’ve heard spectacular stories about, was what we could have looked like. I swallow hard and reach for the cup of murky liquid on the table beside the bed. “I believe you, Calai,” I whisper.

His ensuing smile is worth the nerves using his true name costs me. He pours himself a large cup of ale, takes a draught, sets it down on the table beside my bed with a loud thunk.

“Since maintaining their duties is not a long-term solution, I have encouraged the thralls to rethink what it is they would like to contribute to the economy of this place. I’ve set Elnis, one of my men, in charge of offering small loans to those who believe they may have competitive ideas for new businesses. He helps run the coffers in Ithanuir. Is there someone in Winterbren who might help him? It’s good to know the characters of those interested in applying — those who are serious and capable compared to those who intend to take the money and squander it.”

I… Is he…asking for my…advice? My jaw works and I momentarily flounder before finding my voice once more. “Rosalind is our village treasurer. She’s very secretive.” The king grunts, his face twisting in distaste as he lifts a cup of water this time, drinks from it, then offers that same cup to me. I take it, feeling unbalanced, as I do around him perpetually.

Finished, I add, “Moira might have the most useful experience with balancing books as she runs the inn just outside of town. It’s the most successful business in Winterbren and from the girls I’ve spoken to that work there, Moira is a good, fair employer.

“However, if you’re looking for someone who knows the people and can speak truthfully to their character, none would be better suited for the work than Elena, though she is — was — a thrall herself. She’s also a very talented baker. While the cooking may be best suited for someone else, if she were given a chance, I don’t doubt she’d run a successful bakery for the village.”

The king is nodding at what I’m saying, continuing to eat. And when I’ve finished speaking, he meets my gaze in a way I find frightening in its intensity. His dark eyes move to my face. He exhales deeply, the rise and fall of his chest so large it makes him look as big as a ship’s sail. Then his cheek softens, his mouth quirks to the side and he says, “Do any in this village know how bright you are?”

I feel my face heat and look away. “Thank you, my lord,” I answer on instinct.

“Calai, please.”

He sounds so sincere, so soft. I cannot imagine that this is the male they call the bone king at all. I offer him a gentle smile which causes the skin at the corners of his eyes to crinkle. “Calai,” I repeat.

“I have another predicament I’m puzzling over. I wonder if you might have some thoughts, my little queen.” I start at the moniker, but his gaze is unwavering. I don’t know what that means. “What do you know of Viccra?”

“Viccra is Torbun’s eldest son. He is our best warrior and slated to wed Ella, Chief Olec and Lady Rosalind’s eldest daughter, though…”

“Though?”

“It is nothing. Petty village gossip.”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“Well, it isn’t important. The marriage was planned at the time of their births, so there isn’t anything either of them could do about it. Viccra is known to be in love with Mirabel, Elena’s daughter, also a thrall. Mirabel has been beaten many times by Rosalind for the love she has for Viccra. Rosalind always felt it a slight to her daughter.”

“Pale face? Red hair?”

“Yes,” I say curiously.

“That explains it, then.” The king grins.

“Explains it?”

“Nothing. What do you think of Viccra’s character?”

“Oh. He’s a good man. Nothing like his father. Viccra has always been defiant to Olec, but more so after he returned from his year training in Ithanuir. He’s always been kind to me when many weren’t.”

“Do you think he is someone the villagers of Winterbren would follow into battle?”

I nod. “Yes.”

“Do you think Olec is someone the villagers of Winterbren would follow into battle?”

I smirk. “Olec would never lead anyone into battle. He’d be in the back, issuing orders, not from a horn but from a pitcher of wine.”

The king laughs, loud and bright. It’s shocking, but I don’t jump at the sound of it this time. Instead, I laugh a little with him. “Good, very good.” He shakes his head and sits back in his seat, regarding me with affection of the purest kind. No one has ever looked at me in such a way in my life. “The gods have truly blessed me.”

I don’t answer, but track the king with my gaze as he stands, moves the tray out of his way and takes a seat at my side. His chest is very close. He is very close. He brushes his hand over my cheek and tucks my curls behind my ear. He is so gentle. And he smells so wonderful. I’ve never been stimulated by the scent of a man before, but the scent of his skin is divine and takes me straight back to the intensity of the previous night.

“I am to be a good boy today,” he huffs, gaze scanning my face. “But I’d still very much like to taste.” He leans down and his lips feather over mine in a way that has me tilting my head back, seeking more. I tilt my chin up and open my mouth, my tongue sneaking out to meet his. He moans.

His hand on my cheek hardens, a stern reminder of his size and the power he has over me, and yet, I don’t feel as frightened by it this time. Especially not when my own hand tentatively reaches out to touch his chest. It lands on his pectoral, over his armor. He wears no furs for they are spread out over my bed.

“Gods,” he gasps and in a daring moment of insanity, I use the moment to plunge my tongue into his mouth. He sucks. Pleasure and desire zing through me. I stiffen and pull myself up using his shoulder strap. My other hand fumbles, finding purchase around his thick, muscled neck.

“Oh,” I mewl. “Calai,” I wheeze.

Our lips are moving frantically against each other now and my hips are doing everything they can to try to create some semblance of friction between my legs. Calai starts to push me back into the pillows, but I cry out at the awful feeling of fabric rubbing against my stitches through the bandages.

“Fuck.” He pulls back and keeps pulling, revolving our bodies until I find myself on top of him, my legs spread and a flurry of cool air tickling my bare behind beneath the short hem of my tunic. “Does it hurt like this?” he says and I rise on the motion of his heaving breaths.

“No.” I’m frantic, pressed close to his body, forearms braced against his chest. I keep kissing his bearded cheeks, working my way in towards his mouth where I suckle and peck at his lips.

His tongue enters my mouth and our kissing turns open-mouthed. I angle my head in an effort to find the most effective way to sear our mouths together. I want to keep my eyes open to watch his pleasure, but continue to lose myself to mine. His fingers are gentle as they move over my behind, touching me through the thin fabric of this tunic. My hips are behaving scandalously, humping, gyrating, craving friction, but…he’s too tall and my body can’t reach the place I feel the greatest need.

I break our kiss on a gasp and shove myself down his chest. Sitting up, I place my bare core over the bulge in his trousers. “Augh!” His head flies back. His hands on my hips tremble. “I’m supposed to be a good boy, Starling.” His voice is so strained, he sounds like he’s being tortured. Which seems only fitting. I feel the same.

I shake my head. “I…made no such…promises…” I gasp. My legs are shaking as I suddenly find the pressure I need and start to rub myself in earnest up and down his groin. The madness from last night has taken me and it has not faded with the daylight. I cannot seem to extract myself from it, despite the wounds on my back and the fear I still have for him.

“Starling, no exertion…remember…”

But I’m so close, already. I want to feel what I felt again, that spike of pleasure. I feel wild in ways I’ve never felt before. The fear I felt last night slipping from my fingers, denuded by his words…his kindness…his faith in me…his promises… I want to believe him. I want to trust. And I’ve never felt that want before. It’s too much to catch in my hands.

“Calai, I’ve never felt like this. Your kindness…your care…” I meet his gaze as mine starts to grow fuzzy around the edges. My hips jerk. My sensitive mound erupts in lightning. My head tosses back. I gasp his name as I come for him and I spasm as his pelvis jerks up. We moan together. I come down from my pleasure to see his face twisted in rapture. His hooded gaze is on me. He’s reaching for my breasts, fondling them through my tunic. I shudder wildly and collapse onto his massive body, meeting his hungry mouth with mine once again.

In between the taste of his lips, I utter, “I would be a fool not to go with you when you leave this place, my king.” I kiss him desperately. “I’ll be your helper, your mistress, your whore…whatever need you have of me…”

King Calai grunts, his own body twitching beneath mine. He reaches between us to adjust himself and looks a little angry as he meets my eyes. He holds my face in one of his hands — from cheek to cheek, his massive hand wraps all the way around my chin and jaw. He starts to speak, then stops. It doesn’t matter. Over the sound of my panting, I can’t hear him anyway.

“Whatever need,” I repeat.

I feel embarrassed by my declaration, but it is true. To feel like this again, even if only as a hidden secret the king keeps tucked away behind his throne…I would do it. For a time, as long as I had with him, I would take it and I would not regret it. Hopefully. I just don’t know what it would be like to know that he was this way with other females…

“My little bird,” he breathes hard against my forehead and then slowly plants a kiss right between my eyes. It is searing. “I would not take you away from Winterbren as anything less than my queen.”