Page 20 of Sky’s Edge

I wanted to latch onto the fact that yes, I was tied to him, but no, I was not bound to him, so he could not tell me what to do.

But a little niggly section in the back of my brain reminded me his father cheated on his mother, that had cataclysmic results for the both of them, and this was not cheating (per se), but it might not be about him being a bossy, domineering king, but considering he’d made it clear he already thought I was his, it might be about that.

“I had no intention of doing that, and therefore I already was not going to do that,” I forced out.

He nodded.

Once.

And then said, “I’ll comm you Sunday afternoon.”

“I’ll be busy.”

“Then I’ll comm you Sunday evening.”

“I’m busy then too.”

“Then I’ll jet to Nocturn and be in your flat Sunday night so you can not only confirm things are over with that male, we can enjoy a long chat.”

Gah!

“I’ll accept your comm Sunday evening,” I relented.

“Excellent.”

“Are we done now?”

“Now? Yes. Done? Never.”

How much trouble could you get in for slapping a king?

I’d have to look it up.

“Talk to you Sunday,” I bid.

“You will,” he replied, like it was a threat.

Okay then.

I was officially done.

Without saying goodbye, I ended the comm.

I allowed myself a moment to seethe. That felt so good, I allowed myself several more moments.

Still minorly seething, I tossed aside the straw, downed the last of my martini in one gulp, donned the spa-visor to finish the program and sat back in my pool.

It only took a couple of minutes for the visor to finish.

This left me in my pool with no martini, a fresh face, a whole night ahead of me where I naturally needed to sleep, and despite my best efforts…

No serenity.

After work the following evening, I was in my kitchen.

I’d put the ingredients of the ready-meal I’d grabbed on the way home into my Cook-Companion and that was doing its thing (and I was looking forward to it seeing as I’d grabbed it before: salmon in puff pastry with a delicious cream sauce, roasted asparagus and saffron rice).

Now, with the small screen I had in the kitchen broadcasting the news, but doing so muted, I was checking my pack-chute to grab mail and any packages delivered from the big wintery shop I’d done on the panes last night.