Page 19 of The Shattered Kingdom (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

ABBY

THE GARDENS ARE beautiful. The particular one I’ve been brought to is hidden within a circular wall of tall bushes, and it’s filled with shrubby trees, stone paths, and fountains. It makes the gardens of Versailles look like a playground.

It’s shaping up to be a beautiful day, too. The sky is clear, and there’s a slight breeze.

The barrier of giant hedges provides surprising privacy, and lining them are tall, stone vases, all filled with blooming flowers. I’ve never seen such vibrant colors. There are only fifty or so faeries within the small area, but what appear to be hundreds are waiting on the hill beyond the gardens.

It feels like every pair of eyes is on me, but I hope that’s just my paranoia talking. They’re most likely looking at Mason. He’s their new king. Their new shifter king.

The quiet murmuring within the garden falls silent as we enter.

Then the faeries bow, bending lowly at the waist and parting to reveal a stone slab.

Fuck no. The queen has been wrapped in thin brown cloth, her body covered from shoulder to toe, and she’s been laid on the large stone slab in the garden's center. I’ve never seen anything like this, and I avoid looking too closely at her form .

The faeries continue to part, and Mason and Kie shift to stand on either side of me. I would love nothing more than to linger behind, but I’m not granted that opportunity. I’m guided forward, toward the stone slab and the body on top of it.

Her Majesty is gray and waxy, clearly dead. I’ve been fortunate enough never to see a dead body before today. My grandparents had closed caskets, and all my childhood pets were put down at the vet’s office and cremated. I wasn’t involved.

Kie steps ahead of me, and I linger behind with Mason as he bends over the slab and whispers a few words too quiet to hear. Does he not have the opportunity to see his mother privately? That’s awful.

I stare at my feet, giving him privacy, even if the faeries surrounding me don’t offer the same courtesy. Only a minute or two passes before Kie returns to my side, and Mason takes his turn. He says a few quiet words before turning and facing the crowd.

They’re probably waiting for the speech Kie mentioned.

Mason begins, again in the language I don’t understand. I listen, trying to see if I recognize anything. Nothing stands out. This isn’t a language that exists in the human realm.

“I understand many of you are hesitant to see me rule,” Mason says, shifting into a language I understand.

Somebody behind me scoffs, and Mason clears his throat before continuing.

“I’m not interested in giving useless promises to mollify you, and I won’t stand here pretending I’m not the firstborn son of Alpha Theon. ”

Mason wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t have a speech planned. He’s only two sentences in, and already, he’s fucking up. He’s supposed to comfort the faeries, not remind them that he’s not one of them.

Kie lets out a quiet sigh and drops his chin to his chest.

“But I’ve made a commitment to the faeries, and to Zaha, and I intend to honor it.” Mason licks his lips, his green eyes darting from faerie to faerie. “I am a good leader, and Prince Kieran will remain by my side as a valued council member.”

Several seconds pass in tense silence. I listen to trees, focusing on the quiet flapping of bird wings. The garden is peaceful, and I wonder if this area is reserved exclusively for funerals. I hope not.

Mason continues. “Please do not hesitate to come to the council and myself with any concerns. We understand Her Majesty’s death frightens many, and we assure you we have everything under control.”

I wait for further elaboration, but Mason offers none. He steps away from the queen’s body, letting Anox take a turn. I didn’t notice the robed faerie’s entrance.

He places a hand on Queen Gitta’s wrappings, then faces the crowd with just as much confidence as Mason. “In light of recent events, we will be holding court tomorrow evening. We invite you all to join.”

Pressure on my arm pulls my focus from Anox. It’s coming from Mason. He nudges his head to the side, gesturing toward the exit. Are we leaving already? We’ve only just gotten here. I wait until we’re safely away from the crowd before speaking.

“Why aren’t we staying?”

“The royal family does not mourn,” Kie says. “We move forward. Always.”

That’s a shitty tradition. Kie lost his mother. He deserves to mourn.

We pass dozens of faeries on our way out of the gardens. Each one bows deeply to Mason. It’s unsettling, and I quickly find myself eager to be away from prying eyes. The grounds are significantly busier today, I assume because of Queen Gitta’s remembrance.

I’m surprised they don’t hold it outside the property, but I’m not looking to question faerie tradition. Not today.

“What now?” I ask.

It’s Kie who answers. “We continue with our day as normal. I have some work to wrap up, so you’ll stay with Mason for the remainder of the morning. I’ll be back shortly.”

Mason halts. “What do you mean? What work?”

“I’ll be back shortly.”

Kie’s avoiding the question, and he breaks away from us a moment later. Mason visibly hesitates, looking like he wants to chase after Kie and demand that he remain with us. I hope he doesn’t. Kie needs space.

I do, too, if I’m being honest with myself. I still haven’t wrapped my mind around the fact that he’s my mate, and it’s significantly easier to avoid thinking about it when he isn’t nearby. Mason isn’t giving me the same opportunity, and the mate bond is annoying.

It’s not changing my overall perception of the shifter, but I’m continually finding myself drawn to him.

I’m impressed with how he’s handled himself today, and I’m excited to have the morning with him.

Neither of those emotions are welcome, and I doubt I’d be feeling them if it weren’t for the bond.

“When will I be allowed to go home?” I ask. “I need to contact my family. They must be worried sick about me.”

We walk along the wooded path leading to the royal houses. I scuff my feet along the worn path.

“You’re our mate,” Mason says. “You’ll remain with us. I haven’t had the opportunity to speak with Kie about it, but we’ll arrange for your family to be brought here. They can live on the property if they wish, or within Bellmere.”

“They have jobs, friends, commitments. Their entire lives are within the human realm. So is mine. I can’t stay here. I need to go home. ”

“That’s not an option.”

Of course not. Heaven forbid Kie and Mason do something that doesn’t directly benefit them. We reach the house, and I storm ahead and push open the door before the shifter gets it into his head to do it for me. I don’t need him to do anything nice for me.

“You can’t bring my family here,” I argue. “They don’t know about faeries.”

Mason walks into the kitchen. “Then they’ll learn. Are you hungry?”

He pulls something wrapped in cloth out of a cabinet, and I inch forward as I realize it’s a loaf of fresh bread.

I haven’t had breakfast, and the bread looks good.

Mason grabs two plates, and I come to the painful realization that he has no idea how to cook as he places two slices of bread and a handful of fruit on each plate.

“I won’t cook for you,” I say. “Don’t think that because I’m your mate, I will become your personal chef.”

Mason stares me down. “Okay.”

He shoves a piece of bread into his mouth, and I do the same. Mason’s jaw shifts with each bite, the muscle clenching and unclenching. He has a nice, square jawline. I know several human men who would kill to have it.

Everything about Mason’s physical appearance is objectively nice, though. He’s big and strong and sometimes I just want to sink my teeth into him. Would he let me? He let me stab him, so I’m inclined to believe he would.

I should’ve never touched him. It was a mistake.

“What should I do with my bedroom?”

It takes me approximately ten business days to try to make sense of Mason’s question, and I still come up empty-handed.

“What?” I give in and ask.

Mason sighs, the noise dramatic and unnecessary, before walking down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. I absentmindedly follow him, still not understanding what he’s getting at.

“You refused to sleep in my room last night,” he says, opening his bedroom door. “Tell me what I need to change so you’ll sleep with me.”

I blink.

Mason is useless, and I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve being paired with him. Maybe I offended Zaha in another life, and this is her way of getting revenge. It wouldn’t surprise me.

“I’m not going to sleep with you,” I say. “I don’t trust you. I frankly don’t even like you.”

And I mean it, too.

Mason rolls his eyes. “You don’t need to trust me to share a room with me. My bed is comfortable, my sheets are soft, and I am warm.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” I ask, changing the subject. “Maybe a meeting to attend or a letter to write?”

“I’ll work better after a night of good sleep with my mate.” Mason pulls open his wardrobe doors and gestures to the clothing inside. “I’ll make room for you to put your dresses, and I won’t use them to masturbate.”

Oh, wow. I’m so fucking charmed. How kind of him to offer not to desecrate my clothing. I’ve never felt so lucky.

“I’ll sleep with you if you get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness,” I say. “I want you to tell me how meaningless your life is without me and how ashamed you are of the way you treated me. Then I want you to suckle on my big toe while you call me ‘Daddy.’”

Mason slams his wardrobe drawers shut. He’s pissed.

“I’m being serious,” he says.

I’m sure he is. I don’t doubt that for a second, but that doesn’t mean I want to sleep with him. I understand and accept that it’s safest to stay here instead of the house I shared with Lill, but I’m happy with the condom-filled spare bedroom.

I take a seat on the edge of Mason’s bed. The shifter seems excited as I settle on the mattress, and I hold eye contact with him as I lift the hem of my dress up my thighs. I’m tired of him acting like I’m some object he can bark orders at and boss around.

If he wants to treat me like an object, I’ll treat him like one, too.

“If you’re so desperate to waste my time”—I sneer—“you might as well be useful.”

I’m surprised steam isn’t billowing out from Mason’s ears. That’s a sight I’d enjoy. He clenches his fists, his eyes narrowing. I’ve made him angry.

“Come on, now,” I taunt. “I don’t have all day.”

Mason steps away from the bed. “I don’t want to.”

I fake a pout. “Why not?”

“Because putting my mouth on you meant something to me, and now you’re mocking it.”

I snap my legs shut and pull down my dress. Fuck . Leave it to Mason to make me feel guilty for giving him a taste of his own medicine.

“I—”

I barely have time to react as Mason darts forward and rips my dress back up my legs. I fall back onto his bed, my heart pounding.

“Don’t be so gullible, Abby. I like your spitefulness, and if I need to lick my way to your heart, so be it.” Mason pauses, hesitating, before continuing. “I want you to know this does mean something to me, though. You mean something to me, even if you hate me.”

I don’t know what to say. Mason’s admission makes me feel unnervingly pleased, but I don’t want to feel pleased with him. I don’t want any soft emotions toward Mason.

Without responding, I place a hand on top of his head and push it between my thighs. It’s easy not to think when he’s down there.