Page 52

Saoirse growls.

I recognized King Tiernan’s voice the second he began speaking in that silky tone.

I plaster on a smile as I spin around, eye level with the king’s broad chest. He’s almost as tall as Emyr, and just as broad.

He’s well-built and strong like his son.

Now that I know of their kinship, I can see features in his face that are similar, yet different, to Emyr.

Where Emyr’s features radiate and brighten, Tiernan’s features only darken.

He must’ve received his good traits from his mother.

I drop into a curtsy. “Of course, Your Majesty,” I reply.

The king graces me with another dazzling grin, but I can see the iniquity beneath it.

He places a hand on my waist in the same manner that Emyr had, which makes me shiver.

However, it isn’t a shiver of anticipation, but disgust. The king pulls me in closer, and I have the sudden desire to burn every area in which he currently touches me.

Where Emyr’s touch is soft and cherishing, Tiernan’s embrace is hard and possessive.

Suddenly, the music plays, and I try to look anywhere other than directly at him.

If I do, I might be tempted to say something I shouldn’t.

Off in a far corner, Emyr stands with the Cadre, his hand white-knuckling his glass.

If he squeezes it much harder, I’m afraid it’ll shatter.

Every time we spin around the floor, I find myself looking for him… only him.

And he looks for me. Only me.

Tiernan’s breath warms the top of my head as he breathes in my scent.

His thumb rubs circles along my back, while pulling me flush with his chest, despite my efforts to keep my distance.

He releases a sigh as his mouth comes down to brush against my ear.

“You’re resplendent tonight, my darling,” he coos.

I want to shutter or push him away in disgust and tell him to go back into the Abyss… but I can’t.

“Thank you,” I reply.

“There isn’t a single woman here that rivals your beauty,” his honeyed voice continues. “In my three-hundred years, I’ve never seen a more exquisite creature than yourself.”

I faux laugh, as if I actually find him amusing. “I’m sure that your queen’s beauty far surpasses my own, Your Majesty,” I say.

This seems to be just the right pressure point because his jaw ticks as he forces out a soft, melodic laugh. “No,” he replies. “She is only queen out of necessity.”

I quirk an eyebrow, unsure I heard him correctly. “You have no love for your queen?” I ask.

The king scoffs as he gracefully drops my body backward in a dip, his body leaning over mine. “You’ve seen what she’s like,” he whispers. “One simply doesn’t love an endlessly squawking canary.” Then he pulls me back up.

Even if the queen is mad, I pity her for being trapped into such an arrangement with the king.

Everyone deserves to be loved. Perhaps it’s his cruelty that led her to such mania, or perhaps it’s as he said…

She’s a ne cessity. However, what would a brilliant king need from a simple nobleman’s daughter?

Surely, there were other women born of higher rank within his court that would’ve been more equally matched.

From what I’ve heard, Orla’s heritage is insignificant in comparison, as her family only gained their titles due to the king’s kindness .

If he didn’t marry her for monetary gain or position, what does she have to offer?

No one can deny she’s a great beauty, yet something tells me that there’s more to her than what the king currently desires anyone to know. I just wonder what it could possibly have been that stole the king’s attention to seal her fate?

Tiernan softly tilts my chin up. “Look at me, my darling,” he commands.

His crown glistens under the glow of the stringed candles, each black diamond sparkles as his head moves closer to my own.

The hairs on the nape of my neck stand to attention with every inch he closes between us.

“There you are. Now, isn’t that so much better?

” His lips brush against the shell of my ear as his fingertips tighten around mine.

“You must do better to not show your open disdain for me, my darling,” he whispers.

“One might think you loathe me, and we can’t have that now, can we? ”

I swallow hard. “No, Your Majesty,” I whisper.

Then, just as quickly as he’d invaded my space, he stands to his full height once more, seemingly satisfied with my answer.

He guides us in graceful pirouettes through the throngs of the other couples dancing.

To anyone around us, we look as if we’re enjoying one another’s company.

However, they don’t realize I’m biting my tongue so hard that the sharp tang of blood is all I can taste.

It’s the only way I’m able to keep myself from informing everyone what a horrible ruler he truly is.

Instead, I play into the act he desires for me: adoring and attentive.

Even if I’d rather be anywhere else than in his arms.

“Are you enjoying the ball?” he asks.

“Yes, my king,” I reply. “It’s quite the experience.”

He winks, appeased by my answer. “It’s all for you, my darling. This is a celebration to commemorate the special gift that you possess,” he says as his eyes travel down to the Dragon’s Flame. “I rather enjoy spoiling you.”

Bile rises in my throat as I fight the urge to cover my mouth with my hand.

Why is every bloody person in this kingdom so obsessed with my pendant?

Yes, the god blessed me with it to find the Na Fìrèin, but it’s not as if I can conjure the god’s chosen before me.

I’m just an amnesiac that doesn’t even remember where the blasted thing came from, or why Siorai chose me for such a holy task.

More curiously, why is the king so interested in the Na Fíréin?

Surely, the king doesn’t seek redemption for his atrocities, so what other reason could he have to desire to find the god’s chosen.

No, whatever he desires must be sinister, which only allows that pool of dread to settle even more into my very bones.

There’s more to this that I don’t understand yet, and I hope I figure it out before whatever he has planned takes effect.

I force a tight smile. “How kind you are, indeed, Your Highness,” I reply.

As the song concludes, I try to pull away, but he keeps me held tightly against him. Leaning down, he kisses my cheek and whispers, “I hope you enjoy my surprise.”

Then he releases me, leaving me gawking after him, confused and speechless.