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I glare at him and then at the fork, wondering if I should stab him with it. When confronted, he is such a prick.
The commander sighs. “I have orders, and I trust my judgment even if you don’t. I brought her here for you. Some span, you will thank me.”
“I doubt it,” I say, even though I know he’s right. He often is.
“You can’t let your affection for me cloud your judgment.”
I can’t believe he said it. Pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about, I snort. “You’re delusional.”
“Queens don’t snort.”
I snort again and start eating. At first, I stuff my face only so he’ll correct my manners, but Claudette’s cooking is so good, and I’m so hungry that, before I know it, I’m not just snorting like a piglet, but eating like one too. Once I polish off the meal, he takes the tray away, but not before I swipe the glass of wine from it. I drink the rest and extend my hand, asking for more.
Instead of pouring me more wine, he tries to take the glass from me, not with his magic, but with his hand. His bare fingers close over mine, and I swear on all the fates, it feels as if he’s parting my thighs. My breath hitches, and I grip the glass more tightly.
“Let go. You will crush it and hurt yourself,” he admonishes.
“But I want more.” More wine. More touching. More everything.
He shakes his head. “A queen must keep a clear mind.”
“The only thing that’s muddling my head is you, D’Artaron.”
“I’m aware of that, but my services are needed by your side, which makes me a necessary evil. It’s temporary, I assure you.”
I release the glass and watch as he heads out, stopping at the door. “I have observed that a bond between sisters can grow as strong as a diamond. Don’t let anyone get in the way. Not even me or her husband.”
I nod, and just when I think he’ll leave, he adds, “I never loved Claudette. I have never loved anyone before. It seems I make exceptions for you.”
Holy fates and flying pigs. Is he telling me he loves me? I must be delusional. And yet, I must ask. “What kind of exceptions?”
“All kinds. Sleep well, Spring queen.”
23
CHLOE
I’m not a huge fan of rising early in the morning. This is especially true the morning after a night I spent drinking too much good wine.
Following the commander’s departure, I couldn’t sleep, and while snooping around, I found the secret passage leading right into a private wine cellar no bigger than a closet. The labels indicated it was fine, high-priced wine, and one sniff of a red bottle made my mouth water. Therefore, I stayed up late, happily thinking about what it would feel like to date D’Artaron (and make love to him).
Needless to say, I fell asleep with an unclear mind, so now, when people burst into my chambers, I can’t summon the energy to rise, not even when I hear my sister’s voice.
“Chloe!” she says excitedly. “Chloe, wake up. You must attend court today.”
I cover my head with a fluffy pillow.
It’s ripped away from me.
The hooks that hold the curtains and blinds scrape the rod, letting in the bright spanlight I can see even through my closed eyelids. I open my eyes, and one of them feels puffy.
Claudette’s pretty face appears above me. Green eyes the same color and shape as mine widen. “Oh no, sister, what happened to your eye?”
“Is it swollen?”
“Folia, come quickly,” Claudette says.
Folia is here?
