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A flicker of light appears, and I step forward when the burning on my palm intensifies, a telltale sign that Chloe is using her magic. The tiny light expands into a marble-like arched gateway through which the queen and the male step. The pair are laughing and looking like they’re having a jolly good time, and I let it feed the jealous beast inside me that wants to tear the male apart, puppy or not.
My gaze roams over her arm, dress, face, and then over his, looking for evidence of a marriage ribbon or at least a courting gift she might have accepted. Finding none, I think they might try to hide it. Over my dead body.
I march toward them, glaring at the male.
When I step in front of him, he juts his jaw as if he’ll confront me. Too bad I smell fear out of his every pore. It only makes me more aggressive. Swallowing, I step back so I don’t kill him in front of the queen.
“The queen is not yours for the taking,” I say, having not a care in the world what he makes of my meaning.
“Or yours,” he says.
“That remains to be seen,” I tell him.
“Kostya, give us a moment,” she says. But when the male tries to step past me, I block his way.
“This is not over,” I say. “Nobody takes my queen.”
“June is your queen,” Chloe says.
She might as well have slapped me. I let the male go and face her, and for the first time in my life, I feel as if I’m waging a war I’m going to lose. It happens to those who open their hearts to others. I’ve kept mine well guarded inside the impenetrable castle of self-control and denial. This female will break me.
I grit my teeth and pull back my shoulders, emotionally armoring myself for her final blow.
“You have no right.” She pokes my chest.
I grab her wrist. “You can’t marry him. You can’t marry any of them.”
“Fuck you, D’Artaron,” she hisses. “You won’t fuck me, but nobody else can either. Is that it?”
“It is.”
“That’s unfair.” She tugs at her wrist. When I won’t let go, the sigil on my hand ignites, burning my palm.
I bare my teeth as the pain sears my hand, smoke coming from beneath my glove before I let go.
We stand there, our chests heaving as my palm heals.
“I’m not sorry,” she says, even though her eyes fill with tears. “You hurt me more.”
“That was never my intention.”
“Stay.” She exhales a breath. “Stay with me.”
I take her hands in mine. “I can’t abandon my post when my king’s siblings aren’t there, when my king is expecting a baby, and when I haven’t trained a suitable replacement.”
Understanding crosses her expression. “So then you want me to wait for you.”
“Chloe, I wish I could give you all that you desire, but I’m the commander with a post at the Summer Court. My word is law, and my oath is binding. I took an oath that I will serve the Summer king to the best of my ability.”
“Are you serving him to the best of your ability when you think about breeding me and establishing prosperity for my court? Who are you thinking about when you pleasure me? When you teach me how to walk, or talk, or even smile? Hm? Is it really all for your king, or is some of it also for me. Or, better yet…” She leans in. “Is some of that for you? Do you enjoy helping me, creating order in this court, training the best of the best so that we can all thrive long after you’re gone?”
I pinch my lips.
“Your magic is the old blood of the north, and we never truly leave our birth court, D’Artaron. You belong here. Your magic belongs to us, the Springsters. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance for this court to equal the Summer Court in power and wealth. And you are the key.”
I open my mouth, then close it because I’m stunned speechless. Finally, I manage to ask, “When did you get so wise?”
“When I realized I could change our world for the better. Now,” she says, her nose turned up slightly the way I taught her queens do when they speak with tall males. “If you will excuse me, I have an announcement to make.”
