“No, the country is United States of America.”
The quill scratched again, another precise, elegant line appearing on the paper. “How did you arrive in Clovermere?”
“I told this story to the Queen already. There’s nothing different here except the sexier room.”
He paused. “This is an interrogation chamber.”
“Exactly.”
He stared at me. I stared back. I may have bitten my lower lip, just a little. And I may have winked. But come on, he was wearing leather.
“Who sent you?”
“Nobody sent me. Mid-twerk, Sky bumped me, I stumbled. Want to see it?”
“Sit. Down.”
The command hit somewhere south of my navel. I sat, because his voice made my knees weak. It was deep, resonant, vibrating through the stone room, the wooden chair, and the bones of my pelvis.
“Are you affiliated with any military or intelligence organization?”
“Of course not. Unless you count San Jose City College, where I’m theoretically enrolled, but can’t seem to land on a major. If only crochet was a major, right?” I propped my chin on my hand. “Do you interrogate people often? You seem like you’d be good at it. You’re so stern and commanding.”
A muscle twitched at his temple. “The Queen’s secretary believes you may be an operative from the Farewild. Sent to infiltrate Qoksmere using dark magic.”
A giggle slipped out.
“Pip, focus.”
“I could focus if you stopped saying Cock Smear.”
“Qoksmere. Emphasize the Q in the beginning. Qoksmere.”
“Ahh, a Q. So much better,” I said, keeping my lips straight and serious. Mostly.
“Are you or are you not planning an infiltration?”
“I don’t know what the Farewild is, and the only thing I’ve infiltrated recently is the VIP room at Club Onyx, because, well. I’ve got what it takes, if you know what I mean.” I stretched, arms overhead, letting my crop top ride up. It didn’t have far to go. “Is it hot in here, or is it just the giant flaming torch on the wall?”
He set down the quill.
“You are aware,” he said, “that I am deciding whether you are a threat to the realm.”
“Mm-hmm. Not a threat.”
“And that the outcome of this conversation will determine whether you are granted asylum, imprisoned, or executed.”
“Are those my only options? Because I can think of a fourth one that’s much more fun.”
“There is no fourth option.”
“There’s always another option.” I closed the distance between us, near enough to see scars on his forearms, torchlight in his irises, the flare of his nostrils. “Are you going to spank me?”
“No,” he said.
“That’s disappointing. Because the Queen said thoroughly, and I’ve been trying to figure out what that means, and being thorough usually involves—”
“It means questions. It means I ask questions and you answer them. Thoroughly.”
