AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The staff take a step back.
Before I turn them all to ash, something I would most certainly regret, I stomp out of the room. Just as I exit, I trip over the dress and expect to fall right on my face, but of course, the ever-present commander uses his magic. It grips my dress and holds me in place.
“I am so sick of everyone controlling me! Let me fall!”
When he doesn’t, I scream at the top of my lungs.
Back in the queen’s chamber, I sit at the window, watching the gardens in bloom. Nothing in the world compares to the natural beauty of the Spring Court, where the climate is never too hot or too cold. Flowers, trees, and animal life thrive, and watching bunnies and squirrels hop around and wiggle between the bushes makes me smile.
I’m on my second glass of wine, my eyes puffy from crying. In the morning, I will summon my sister, even if that means her husband will come with her. I wish my brother would come, but I know he won’t. The vineyard needs tending, and he enjoys working on his own, hardly ever hiring any help that could replace him. During harvest, when he employs workers, it’s mostly for housekeeping or cooking, something he’s not very good at.
Someone knocks softly on my door.
“Come in,” I whisper.
“You don’t even know who it is,” D’Artaron says, still outside.
“The only person bold enough to visit my chambers at this time of night is you, Commander.”
He enters on soft feet, and I turn to see he’s not wearing a uniform. His hair is wet. Broad shoulders and torso stretch a simple, black, V-neck T-shirt paired with black linen pants over unlaced boots.
His appearance is…intimate. I presume only his closest friends see him undone this way, and he melts me on the inside, having shown up here casually dressed. Even if it’s late. Perhaps especially because it’s late. The forbidden nature of what he’s done and what people might gossip about makes it more exciting for me. I’m not a stickler for rules. He is.
The combination of his mating scent and fresh soap drifts over to me and makes me clench my pussy so liquid heat doesn’t gush out of me. I don’t know what to say or what to make of this beautiful male or how to stop this giddy, girly, stupid excitement whenever I see him. It’s like I live for the night he might grace me with his presence.
It doesn’t help that he’s carrying a tray and that the smell of a mysterious, delicious meal makes my belly rumble.
“I heard you didn’t have dinner.” He stands beside the bed.
I put away the black canvas and chalk. I thought I could draw while I calmed down from the nonevents at dinner, but nothing came to mind. Except wine. Wine always helps.
“You know I didn’t. You were there.” Not in person, but his magic extends far beyond what I can comprehend. I always thought a kinetico manipulated objects in his line of sight, that the magic worked on the things the person could see. D’Artaron proved me wrong.
“Come and eat something,” he says.
Carrying my wine, I climb onto the bed and wait to see what he’ll do. Sure enough, the tray travels from his hands and stops in front of me.
“We have a bedside table for dining in bed,” I say. “You don’t have to work with your magic.”
“It’s not work for me.”
I bet he wields magic in his sleep. For me, or maybe even for the rest of the world that’s not as trained, magic wielding tires us and feels like work. I place my wineglass on the tray and uncover the plate. Under it is slow-cooked pork in gravy. A side of mashed potatoes and beets.
“No lamb, huh?” I ask.
“You don’t like lamb.”
Pork-and-potato meals are my favorite. “How do you know that?”
“Because Claudette cooked it.”
“You went to see my sister?” Jealousy burns in my veins, making me glow again.
“I brought her here.”
“I didn’t ask for her.”
“Write down your grievances. I hear it helps.”
