Annoyance flashes in his eyes, and I know that was a careless comment. If there’s one thing he isn’t, it’s a bad king. He works twenty one hours some days. "What do you think I've been doing all night, Rennalya?"
"Take. Stellan. Out. Of. Prison," I say, enunciating each word slowly as if he were a child. He and I aren’t going to make any headway in our relationship whilst my best friend is in a cell.
"He got off lightly."
"Take him the fuck out of there, Rexxan. I swear to the gods."
“Oh, the gods won't help against me.” He stands, clearly giving up. "See you in the same meeting room at eight. Don't be late."
He stalks out of the room, the sheer weight behind his footsteps rattling the table beside my bed. I spend ten minutes just staring into the mirror, my eyes as bright as the lanterns on the wall beside me. I look different, and I’m terrified by that. From this day onwards, there’s a target on my back, a heavy price on my head. I turn away from the mirror, uncomfortable with my reflection for the first time in my life.
I hum as I look over my very limited wardrobe. I really need to invest in an outfit that isn't black leggings and one of Rexxan's shirts that I stole. I run my finger over a black dress. Maybe I need genuine help, but the idea of making Rexxan fucking desperate for me is awfully appealing right now. I’m not above using my looks to get my best friend out of prison. He would do—and has done—it for me. I step into a satin dress, rub golden oil into my skin, and stain my lashes black. Standing in front of the mirror, I drape a black silk cloak around my shoulders.
Rexxan doesn't stand a fucking chance.
I make sure to swing by his halls on my way out, smiling at the guards who aren’t doing a good job of hiding their approval of my outfit. Rexxan is just where I want him, outside his study and engaged in conversation with the Head of the Forest Army.
Frian clears his throat, moving his huge frame to the side to turn to see me.
"Good morning, Frian," I say, brightly.
He clears his throat again. “Um...morning, my lady."
"Oh, and you too, of course," I add, wiggling my fingers at the King in a wave.
He shakes his head at me in despair with an indescribable amount of desire in those entrancing eyes. "Can't stay, I'm justsobusy," I purr, feeling his burning gaze on me as I walk out of his halls.
"You're playing with fire, Rennalya," he calls.
"I'm a fire sorceress, Rexxan, I was born for this."
* * *
I beginmy day by announcing to my hunters that I am a sorceress. Half of them don’t believe me, which I am more than fine with. The other half begin going round bragging to everyone else that they know a sorceress, and I watch my secrecy plan evaporate into non-existence. Once I’ve briefed my nine senior hunters on the battle plans so far, I move on to the next item on my list.
Stellan whistles when he sees me, sitting shirtless in his prison cell. He's probably slept with half of the guards for all I know. He had the shock of his life when he’d seen my eyes when I’d visited the prisons last night. "That's a revenge dress, if ever I've seen one. You look like Rexxan’s wet dreams!”
I laugh, stepping aside so the guard can open his cell. "Itisa revenge dress, and I think it worked." The guard delivers me one more appreciative glance before letting me in. My eyes lock onto Stellan’s. "I'm going to get you out of here."
"Don't, because the second you let me out I'm taking that fucker’s eyes out."
"Stellan, just don't. I'll deal with Rexxan."
"Yeah, and by 'deal with' you mean suck him off."
"Stellan!" I say, exasperated. "I am the Commander of an army, an army that is legally contracted to fight in this war. Hence I am keen to have my best warrior out of prison and on the battlefield. So shut up, sit tight, and behave. Let me handle Rexxan."
"Renna," he says, his face serious for once. "You can't commit yourself—“
"Don't. Don't even say it. I know what you're going to say and I don't need to hear it."
"Yeah? What am I going to say?" He asks, crossing his tattooed arms.
"That I need to stay the fuck away from him,” I reply, mimicking his deep voice and stomping around like he does in a tantrum.
He’s laughing as he speaks. “Uncanny. You ever heard of letting people finish their sentences?"
Fair point. "Sorry."
