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Fear makes him piss his pants. Good. He must understand, but I’m not sure he’s convinced, so I share the message with him. “The message is from the person who executed the royal of your court. He will not hesitate to eliminate you. Leave the Seelie courts.” I shove him away and watch him sprint out of the courtyard before I return to my office and slam the door closed.
When the princess doesn’t wake, I open the door and slam it again.
Nothing. Not even a flinch.
“Rise,” I command. She blinks, opening those beautiful green eyes that evoke memories of my childhood spent running over vast grasslands of the Northorn province.
It takes her a moment to come to her senses and sit up, and as she does, my shirt slides off her shoulder taking down the strap of her nightgown and exposing her right breast. Unaware of it, she rubs her eyes and looks up at me, last night’s charcoal makeup smeared under her eyes.
I consider myself a restrained male, not one to indulge in frivolous romance or fall into temptation even during the mating season, but I have limits, and she tests all of them. Without even trying.
“Did you nap well?” I ask, focusing on the wall behind her.
“Surprisingly, yes.”
My gaze strays, and I catch her fixing her shoulder strap, then, with lips parted in a shocked O, she turns as red as her socks.
I pretend I didn’t see a thing and slip behind the wall of my desk into my private area. I control my thoughts, don’t let them stray by picking out two of the softest washcloths I own. One I wet with hot water, the other with cold.
When I return to the room, I grab a chair and move it in front of the princess. “Have a seat here.”
Like one of my soldiers, she executes the order immediately. I groan because it makes me like her even more.
“Hands up,” I say, and drop the cold towel into her hands. She uses it to wipe her hands and refresh herself.
Standing behind her, I say, “Tilt your head back and look at me.”
Again, I stare at her beauty, her captivating green eyes framed by smeared charcoal eyeliner, and swollen parted lips begging for a kiss.
Carefully, I lay the warm cloth on her face and step back, fisting my hands.
The princess releases a deep, satisfied groan that makes my skin prickle with sexual awareness I haven’t felt in too many turns to count.
“This feels ah-mazing.” After a while, she removes the cloth and says, “Thank you, sir. May I have another?”
Aaaaand I’ve had enough of that. I snatch the pair of washcloths and toss them in the corner of the room as if they caught fire.
The fact she’s not even trying to come on to me or seduce me, but does so in a way I can hardly deny makes it difficult for me to think of anything besides spending nights between her thighs violating her innocence. Which would result in the dereliction of my duties, not to mention an end to her prospects as a royal, now even more than ever since she’s a widow.
I sit the fuck down and steeple my fingers in front of me. “Now that you’re rested and refreshed, you will tell me everything that occurred last night in the Spring Court. What made you barge in here with over a hundred portals, making it appear as an invasion? When I’m satisfied with your explanation, and I determine you no longer pose a threat, then the Summer Court and all its amenities are at your disposal. But until then, you are a threat, and you shall remain under guard. I will watch your every move. Is that clear?”
Her green eyes widen. “Yes, Commander, very clear.”
I lean back and use my magic to open the blinds, a gentle reminder that I carry dangerous magic and know how to use it. Though I doubt the princess takes it as a threat. What she does do is lean in and repeat the story she told me already, the one about the people breaking into her room, and then she tells me about her husband, albeit with more clarity now that she’s safe.
Throughout her narrative, she doesn’t appear to be in mourning, though that could be because she’s a psychotic, power-hungry monster.
Doubtful, but we come in all shapes and sizes.
She claims that she ran away because she feared being arrested and framed for his murder. The queen dislikes her, she also says.
While I believe she’s telling the truth, I must question her, and there are very few things I enjoy more than interrogating potential threats. Yet, with her, an interrogation feels wrong, and though I don’t know why it feels wrong, I still do it. The protection of my court in the absence of the king or other royals rests on my shoulders, and when I enlisted and swore my allegiance, I vowed I would protect and serve my king. “Where were the king and queen?”
“In their chambers, I presume.”
“So you haven’t seen them?”
She shakes her head. “No, sir.”
