Page 21 of The Shattered Kingdom (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

ABBY

THE BEDROOM DOOR creaks open, the noise just loud enough to pull me from the deepest edges of sleep.

I’m still heavy, though, my body weighed down with exhaustion.

Kie and Mason spent all day studying policies, traditions, and polite responses for court.

I was excited to listen in at first, but the conversation quickly grew tedious.

Mason would say something ninety-five percent correct, and Kie would quickly intervene with alternatives. Then they’d bicker like an old married couple.

My sheets are pulled back, the movement further waking me. I already know who it is, and I bury my face into my pillow as I work up the strength to speak. I just want to be left alone.

“Go away.”

My mattress dips at my waist. “But—”

Mason sounds like a wounded puppy. I don’t care.

“When and if I’m ever ready to sleep with you, I’ll let you know,” I say. “Stop pushing the issue and go back to your room.”

Mason sighs, and a second later, he retreats.

Despite my rejection, my body tingles with excitement at the thought of sharing a bed with him.

It’s the infuriating bond. I want Mason wrapped around me, his chest pressing against my back and our legs tangled together.

I want to wake up suffocated by him, and I want to push my hips back until he’s hard and ready to slide inside me.

I want it so badly I can feel it, but I’ve already given in to him twice. If he offered again, I’m not sure I’d have the strength to turn him away.

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating myself for my desperate thoughts. Mason warned me that the bond would do this, would cause these unwanted feelings, but I never imagined it would be this intense. I thought I’d have more control over it.

“What does it feel like?” I ask before Mason leaves. “The bond. What does it feel like for you?”

Mason pauses by the door. “I imagine it’s what you feel, but amplified.

Shifters traditionally feel mate bonds the strongest. We’re ruled by emotion and instinct, which pairs well with a mate bond.

Humans feel them the least. They’re not naturally occurring for your species, so you won’t be quite as affected.

Faeries are somewhere in the middle, but closer to shifters. ”

I can’t imagine the bond feeling any stronger than it does right now.

“How are you…” I trail off, not sure how to word my next question. I don’t want to give too much away. I don’t want to admit how much I want him. “How are you controlling yourself?”

Mason laughs, sounding mildly deranged. “Do you think I’m controlling myself? I’m attempting to sneak into your bed while you’re sleeping.”

“Yeah, but not to…” I trail off. I thought he was sneaking into my bed because he wanted to be near me. Was this sexually charged? I don’t like that. “Were you—”

Mason is quick to interrupt. “No, Abby. No. That was a bad example. I wasn’t going to touch you, not in any sexual manner.

I just…” He pauses, thinking, before continuing.

“I’m desperate for you, but in any manner.

I obviously want to have sex with you, but I just as equally want to be beside you.

I can’t breathe when we aren’t in the same room. ”

I fear what I would do if I felt the bond any more than I do now. Mason may claim it’s not entirely sexual on his end, but that’s the emotion that’s standing out most to me.

“Will the feelings subside if I give in to them?” I ask.

I’ll fuck Mason if it means I can spend the next several days ignoring him. I need him out of my head, and I’m exceptionally skilled at sex without feelings. I went to a state school for accounting, which was mind-numbingly dull. Sex and alcohol were the only forms of entertainment I had.

“Do you think Zaha would make things that easy?” Mason asks. He steps toward me, and a part of me dies as I realize he’s wearing only a pair of tight, black underwear.

He was going to sneak into my bed like that? My immediate reaction is to be angry, but the emotion doesn’t come. He’s never cuddled—never felt skin against his—and I’m sure he’s excited to experience it. I don’t believe he was trying to be a pervert.

Mason kneels beside my bed, bringing us to the same level.

“Everybody says bonds are overwhelming at first,” he explains. “It’ll settle over the next few days, maybe weeks if we continue to ignore it.”

Weeks? I have to go weeks like this? The mere thought fills me with dread. I don’t have that level of patience. I predict I have only days before I’m begging Mason to fuck me. I know who I am, and I’m fairly confident my willpower won’t last that long.

Frustrated, overwhelmed tears fill my eyes, and Mason frowns as one spills down my cheek.

“I’m so angry with you,” I choke out. “You were cruel, and I’m not ready to forgive you. ”

Mason warned me this would happen when I first tried to touch him. He said the bond would make me forgive him, would make me want him, but I didn’t believe him. I thought I would be stronger than it.

I hate Zaha.

Mason brushes the wetness off my cheek. “You knew the risks involved in touching me, and I’m not going to make us both miserable by denying it. I’m not a good man, Abby. You’re going to forgive me, and I’ll let you.”

A second tear soaks into my pillow.

Mason continues. “But there’ll always be a piece of me that knows it isn’t real.

Even in thirty years when we have a dozen happy children running around, I’ll remember that you’re only with me because of our bond.

I’ll always know your love isn’t genuine, that it’s been forced and artificially created, and I promise you that knowledge will haunt me. ”

Mason offers a weak smile. I can’t breathe.

I don’t know what I want, but it surely isn’t that.

“You’re deranged if you think I’m going to push twelve children out of my body,” I say. I’m unsure how to respond to the other bits of his confession, so I’m choosing to ignore them. I’m good at that.

Mason smirks, accepting the topic change. “But your womb is so fertile…”

I groan. “Get out!” I kick my leg, fighting with the blankets before breaking free and kicking Mason in the ribcage. He howls in laughter, finding himself quite the comedian as he retreats to the door. “Don’t ever say that to me again!”

Mason’s laughter only grows. I hear it even after he shuts the door and returns to his bedroom. I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anybody, and I hope he knows it.

It takes me a long time to fall asleep, my thoughts bouncing rapidly between Lill, my family, Mason’s confession, and Kie’s stony silence.

I never thought I’d miss my days working at the marketing firm or my infuriating meetings with Mark.

I’d give anything to sit across his cluttered desk reviewing expense reports.

A lightweight, red linen dress hangs over my bedroom door the next morning. I stare at it for half a second before ripping it off the hanger. It’s a fucking milkmaid dress, and I just know Mason is the culprit.

It’s thankfully not as revealing as I feared, and I mentally curse the shifter as I slip it over my head and tug it over my torso. At least it fits. For once, the hem doesn’t drag against the floor or my ankles. The dress ends squarely at my calves, where it’s meant to.

Mason and Kie stare when I finally leave the bedroom, and Kie wordlessly slides me a plate of food before returning to the giant book he and Mason are leaning over.

“When is court?” I ask.

“This evening.”

Great. They spend the day studying, and I sit on the couch staring at the ceiling. Hours pass at a snail’s pace, and by the time the sun begins to drop, I just might die of boredom.

Kie shuts the book he’s spent the past two hours reading. “It’s time to go.” Finally .

I look over as he and Mason pull on their signature black gloves. They’re pretending they haven’t found their mate, which bothers me more than I’d care to admit. They wore their gloves yesterday, too.

Mason forces me to walk between him and Kie, and he drops his hand from my back as we reach the meeting hall. The building was empty yesterday for Mason’s ceremony, but not today. The throne room is packed, and I estimate there must be well over a hundred faeries present .

They look rich.

The room falls silent as we enter, all eyes on us. I can’t tell which of us is getting the most attention, and I don’t look hard enough to find out. The knowledge will only make me nervous.

Mason guides me up the steps leading to the throne. There are now two, one for Mason and a figurative one for Kie. I’m forced to stand behind Mason. I don’t think it would’ve killed them to have a chair brought in for me, even if it’s plastic and folded up. It’s not too much to ask for.

They’re hoping to avoid drawing too much attention to me, but making me join them on the small stage defeats the whole purpose. Mason wasn’t willing to entertain the idea of me standing down below with Anox, and he snapped at Kie the one time it was mentioned last night.

Anox and the other council members stand at the bottom of the stairs, and Anox makes a short announcement about prosperity and strength. Does he actually believe that?

Faeries begin loosely lining up at the bottom of the steps. They chat amongst themselves, and servers walk around the room with platters of refreshments. I always imagined court was a solemn and serious affair, but this is more of a cocktail hour.

Anox calls out the name and title of the first person in line. It’s a young man, maybe only fourteen or so, and he bows deeply before approaching Mason. I’d expect somebody of his age to be nervous, but he’s the picture of confidence.

“Your Majesties,” he says.

Kie isn’t technically a ‘majesty,’ I don’t think. He’s still a prince, which I’ve gathered is ‘highness’ here. Is calling Kie a majesty considered a slight against Mason? I can’t see the shifter’s face, so I look toward Anox instead.

He’s giving away nothing. Not helpful.

The boy faces Mason directly and bows again. “My King. ”

I’d bet money Mason’s a little bit hard right now. These faeries have spent their entire life openly hating them, and now they’re lining up to earn his favor. I peek at his lap, wanting to confirm, but I don’t see anything unusual.

“As you may know, my family’s land borders Redstall Forest,” the boy starts. “We’re worried about shifters trying to claim them now that one of their own is in power.”

Damn. They aren’t starting with softball questions.

Kie and Mason prepared for about fifty variations of this exact question, and I rock back on my heels as Mason gives a perfectly rehearsed answer about honoring property lines and the strict penalties for unlawfully infringing upon them.

The answer is painfully diplomatic and filled with political correctness, but the boy looks pleased at the end of it.

He steps down, and the next person is announced.

This pattern continues. Some of the faeries have genuine concerns, but most are looking to test Mason. They find sly ways to question his loyalty to the faeries, but Mason takes it in stride. I’ve never seen him so composed, and I’m impressed.

I didn’t think he’d be able to do it.

Does it make a difference? The faeries hate shifters, and I’m not sure Mason’s composure will change their perception of him. He needs to start gargling faerie dicks if he wants acceptance. Kie, too. They can gargle together. One takes the shaft and the other takes the balls.

I’ll stand in the doorway collecting payment.

Kie remains silent, his chin held high as he stares into the room. He’s the picture of grace, and even without a fancy crown sitting on his head, I can tell he’s royal. It emanates from him, and it’s kind of hot. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him disheveled.

Our time in the forest doesn’t count.

He’s different here, less carefree and open .

“Miss Jacqueline Rowe,” Anox announces the next person in line, “and Sir Arthur Rowe.”

Jackie stands at the bottom of the steps, patiently waiting her turn to speak with Mason. She’s wearing a red dress, not dissimilar to my own, and her white-blonde hair is pulled out of her face in an elegant bun. I can’t help but compare myself to her. It’s impossible not to.

I didn’t bother doing my hair today. It hangs loosely around my shoulders.

How long were Jackie and Kie together? It’s obvious they were, but I have no idea how serious it was. I’m not entirely sure I want to know.

Beside Jackie is an older man, I assume her father, given that they share a last name. He looks just like her, and she places her hand on his arm as they walk up the steps. Neither he nor Jackie glance in my direction.

It offends me more than I’d care to admit.