Page 45 of The Shattered Kingdom (The Cursed Kingdom #2)

KIERAN

I’M GOING TO kill Mason. I’m going to rip out his liver and feed it to the pesky birds that live near the butcher’s shop on the outskirts of Bellmere. Then I’m going to castrate him and offer his balls to Abby on a silver fucking platter.

“It seems he was abducted earlier this afternoon,” Anox continues, his fury poorly concealed. “Only those with the highest clearance would’ve been allowed inside the cells, and the guards refuse to talk.”

I frown. Mason has the clearance, and he also has the means to threaten the guards into silence. Leaving the shifter unsupervised was a mistake I should’ve known better than to make. I wrongfully assumed he’d feel responsible to protect Abby’s family while I helped her prepare for the coronation.

“I’ll take care of it,” I promise Anox.

He nods. “I trust that you will.”

My gaze momentarily flickers toward the abandoned building beyond the gardens. My mother had wanted to tear it down for several years, and I regret my role in convincing her to leave it standing. I have fond memories of hiding on the roof with Mason.

I’m going to tear it down with my bare hands .

There are only a few places on the property where Mason enjoys spending time, and the abandoned tower has always been one of his favorites.

We used to love hiding up there when we were children, the two of us full of laughter and smiles as we talked poorly of the faeries celebrating below.

I’ve become one of the faeries I used to mock.

I’m sure that thought has already crossed Mason’s mind.

He’s standing on the rooftop, his arms around Abby and his chin resting on her head. He’s avoiding me, running away like the coward he is.

“Where are they?” Anox asks. “This is Queen Abigail’s celebration. Should she not be here?”

I frown, resisting the urge to glance toward the tower again.

Mason hid himself and my mate well, cloaked in darkness and shadows, and I don’t want to give their location away.

Everybody of importance, from our top scholars to our military leaders, is in attendance tonight.

Several of them have already stopped to speak with me.

“Abby’s retired for the evening,” I say. “Mason’s gone with her.”

Anox puckers his lips. He’s annoyed, but he has no reason to be. My mother rarely attended celebrations honoring her. She felt her presence put the people on edge, and over time, that became the tradition.

The faeries knew that when they were invited to a celebration at the royal estate, they could attend without the looming fear of the queen’s judgment. Even I’m drawing a few odd looks, and I hold no real power. Not anymore.

My gaze flickers toward Mason and Abby again. The sun is almost entirely set, making them nearly impossible to spot. I know where to look, though, and my frown deepens as I take in their new position .

Abby’s straddling Mason, giving him love and affection he doesn’t deserve—not after the stunt he pulled this afternoon.

Jackie places a hand on my shoulder. I brush her off. She’s pushing her luck, and I’m too angry to remain diplomatic. I need to know what the fuck Mason did with Lord Bishop.

Lord Bishop confessed before the council. We aren’t animals, and there is a process to these things. Mason can’t take matters into his own hands, not when relations between the faeries and shifters are as tense as they are.

The faeries are looking for an excuse to be angry, and Mason is giving it to them. They won’t care that Lord Bishop attacked our mate. He’s a faerie, and Mason is a shifter. He needs to remain far away from the execution.

It was foolish to trust him alone with Abby’s parents.

I truly believed his desire to protect his mate’s family would be stronger than his need for revenge.

Abby calms Mason considerably, but he’s still the firstborn son of Alpha Theon.

His self-control is nonexistent, and I suspect he prefers it that way.

I sigh, dragging my fingers through my hair.

“I’m beginning to regret my endorsement,” Anox says.

He’s lying. Without Mason and me causing trouble, Anox wouldn’t know what to do with himself. We keep his life interesting.

“I’ll handle him,” I repeat, displaying confidence I don’t have. I’m not sure anybody can handle Mason—not even Abby.

Jackie grabs my shoulder again, her fingernails digging into the muscle even through the layers of my shirt. It’s painful, and I know what it means. I hate that I have a secret language with her, that we’ve spent so much time together that I know what she wants without words.

It’s a betrayal to my mate, and I suck in a slow breath before giving her my ear .

“Go,” she says, her voice low. “I have this handled.”

Anox brings his hands together with a loud clap, drawing attention—not that we don’t already have it. Every pair of eyes in this garden is on me. The faeries are openly watching my every move.

“Yes,” Anox says, his voice loud. “Help Queen Abigail tame His Majesty. Jacqueline has this handled.”

I suck my cheeks into my mouth. “Do not disrespect our king.” I push Jackie’s hand off my shoulder. “He has been chosen by Zaha herself, and you will show him the respect he deserves.”

I hold eye contact with Anox. I don’t appreciate anybody speaking poorly of Mason, and he knows that. Only Abby and I are allowed to talk negatively about the shifter.

Anox lowers his gaze, submitting. It doesn’t make me feel better.

“Go, Kie,” Jackie repeats, her voice low. “I’ll ensure Abby’s family is brought to the royal guest suites, and I’ll make sure the faeries leave tonight with nothing but positive things to say about your mate. I was raised to do this, after all.”

I hate that I have no choice but to trust her. I need to secure Lord Bishop, dead or alive, before anybody realizes he’s missing.

“If anything happens to Abby’s family…” I start.

Jackie snorts. “You’ll personally see to my death. I’m not concerned.”

She spins on her heel and walks away, the gesture beyond disrespectful. She’s letting her council position get to her head, and I mentally curse Abby for offering it in the first place. I don’t think she truly understands the magnitude of Jackie’s ego.

I make eye contact and offer friendly smiles as I make my way out of the gardens. Several people stop and talk with me, and I try my best to hide my annoyance as I answer meaningless question after meaningless question .

Almost everybody pries into my dynamic with Mason, eager for details I don’t care to share. They want to know how we manage affairs and how we intend to move forward with Abby. I avoid most of them, but it’s not easy.

It takes me almost thirty minutes to leave, and I storm through the hedges that will lead me to the abandoned tower. I practice breathing exercises along the way, hoping to calm myself before reaching Abby and Mason, but it doesn’t work.

My blood is boiling as I climb the steps to the rooftop. I hear heavy breathing. Why do I hear heavy breathing?

“Mason!” I hiss.

There’s no response, but I know he can hear me. He has the ears of a fucking bat. The brain of one, too.

I expect to encounter sex when I reach the top, but what I stumble on stops me in my tracks. What is happening? Abby is straddling Mason, but it doesn’t appear sexual. They’re both fully clothed, and Mason’s arms are sprawled out to his sides.

Abby kisses Mason’s neck and shoulders, quiet humming pouring from her throat as she runs her fingers through his hair. Mason throws his head back, his eyes squeezed shut. I don’t understand.

“Mason,” Abby coos. “Do I smell like you now?”

Mason shakes his head. “No. Keep going.”

He’s lying. She reeks of him. I can smell it from here.

Abby chuckles, probably seeing straight through his lie, before kissing along his jaw and scratching his head.

Shifters love to rub against one another, but they usually do it in their animal forms. It’s a way of forcing their scent onto things and asserting dominance.

Sometimes they even pee on one another, and I’m beyond relieved to see that Abby and Mason haven’t taken that step.

I walk around the pair, and Abby meets my gaze before leaning forward and dragging her tongue up Mason’s jaw. What the fuck?

I grimace, and Mason shivers. He’s into this. I can’t fathom why.

“What’d you do with Lord Bishop?” Abby asks, her voice low.

She knows? I’m surprised Mason told her. I thought I’d be the one to break the news.

He doesn’t answer, and Abby scratches his head so hard, I wince. Is that not painful? It’s followed up by a kiss, one I can tell Mason is greatly enjoying. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so relaxed, and I don’t know what to make of it. She just might get answers out of him.

I press my lips together before sitting, letting Abby work her magic.

The sky is beautiful tonight, and I do my best to ignore the kissing sounds as I admire the stars. I love nighttime. It’s peaceful, and there’s nothing more calming than the quiet that comes with darkness.

The property is almost always sprawling with faeries, and I rarely get to enjoy being outside without being stopped by an overexcited person looking to speak with me about something unimportant. Mason doesn’t have that problem, mainly because the faeries are terrified of him.

I’m the approachable one. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

“Mason…” Abby whispers again. “Please tell me.”

He grunts but otherwise remains silent.

Abby looks disappointed, and the corners of my lips twitch upward at the sight of her annoyance. Mason’s stubborn, and she’s learning that the hard way.

“I want the faeries to like me,” Abby continues. She’s pleading, almost even whining, which is new. I sit up, giving her my undivided attention. Mason does the same, his eyebrows pulled together. “They’re going to blame me for this. You know they will. Please, Mace.”

He opens his mouth, then clamps it shut. Then he does it again. And again.

Abby continues rubbing his scalp, keeping him docile and calm. I hold my breath, filled with hope. This just might work.

“But—” Mason starts.

Abby bites his shoulder, her teeth burying into the skin. He shivers, then slumps.

“He’s inside.” He jerks his head toward the boarded-up door beside me. “But he’s mine.”

Mason’s head spins toward me, and he does a double take. His eyes widen, almost like he didn’t realize I was here. I find that hard to believe. The shifter is always on guard. Always.

“He’s not yours,” Abby says. “Not yet.”

I roll my eyes. Lord Bishop will never be Mason’s.

I stand, ignoring the shifter’s threatening stare as I approach the boarded-up door. It looks untouched, but upon closer inspection, I realize the wood planks are loose.

Fucking Mason.