Page 2 of Many Ruined Vows on a Forbidden Frolic

Pikr removes his hand and raises his palms. I peer at him from under my hood, and heat blooms in my core at my first sight of him in fifty-something seemingly endless years.

The past half-century has blessed his features with even more gallant beauty. Endearing lines crease the corners of his black-and-white heterochromic eyes, which I carefully avoid meeting. His beard is as unkempt and wild as the galloping of my heart, and wisps of equally wild hair escapes his long, raven-black braid that drapes over his shoulder to nearly dust the floor. The piebald-pinto coloring of his pelt and skin paints a splash of white on his right arm that beautifully highlights a tattoo I’ve never seen before. Unlike the vigorously straight lines of his neck piece, this one features twining luminberry branches that contort with beauty and grace, disappearing under a skull pauldron.

“I meant no ill intent,” he murmurs, smooth as glass. “Lunar cider is more festive, anyway. Allow me to replace your spilled drink.”

His gaze bores into the side of my head. There’s no sign he recognizes me yet, but it’s a matter of time. To stay is to tempt ruin. I shoot another glance at the exit, and Pikr laughs, the deep, robust sound sending a rush of heat to my southern region.

“Run off if you wish. I’ll settle your bill.” Pikr faces the bar, resting those big hands on the counter and letting his shoulders rise and fall. “But the company of a pretty petal before the long day ahead would be welcome.”

Chapter Two

Loreleivnna

I chew the inside of my cheek and curse my past self for getting us tangled in these weeds. Pikr would never call me a pretty petal if he knew to whom he spoke. He’s called me few things other than Princess Loreleivnna in the past, and most were variations of brat.

“Very—ahem,” I clear my throat, remembering to alter my voice at the last second. “Very well. I’d like that.”

Below the curtain of my hood, I see him cast me an odd look. His jaw works, but before he speaks, Iyllo returns.

“One brandy and a tray of cheese curds.” Iyllo notices the discolored spot on the counter. He gives me a tight-lipped smile and snaps the towel from his shoulder to dab at it. “Haven’t you somewhere to be, miss?”

There’s caution in his tone, and he’s completely right. I shouldn’t blooming be here. I nod and start to rise, but Pikr places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“She’s right where she needs to be, and she’ll have a lunar cider.” Pikr releases me, and I slowly ease back down onto the stool. He flicks his wrist at Iyllo. “Gratitude.”

“Yes, Vir Pikquarrys. I’ll open a new barrel.” Iyllo gives a terse bow and turns on his heels, sending me a wide-eyed look.

Fuck, fuck, I am so fucking plucked.

“So, ah,” I stutter. “Vir Pikquarrys. Are you excited for the Lunaplume Ball?”

I clench my fist, cursing my instinct to babble when caught in an awkward situation. All of Pikr’s attention is on me, and I can’t help the furtive glances I cast him from under my hood. I must look so silly, hunched over a horn, trying to make small talk with a hero of the realm.

Pikr grunts, shifting away from me. “That’s for the youth.”

Wow. Apparently I lost all my petals the moment he walked in. Of course he’s not excited for a frilly harvest festival that forces him away from his beloved forge. It’s all I can do not to groan at my own foolishness. At least he’s not staring at me anymore.

“It’s not all for the youth.” Shut up, shut up, shut up, stupid blooming mouth! “Pretty sure even the Fallen Stars would luxuriate in a casual frolic. The moondust ensures it’s enjoyable, doesn’t it?”

A cheese curd pauses on its route to his mouth, which I catch myself staring at too late. His alluring mismatched gaze briefly meets mine, glinting with devilment.

“You fancy a casual frolic?” He quirks a brow, and I quickly avert my gaze, landing on his solid bicep. It’s easily the size of my waist and doesn’t cool the heat pulsing through my veins. “You do realize what happens in those trunks at night?”

My cheeks burn. I swivel my gaze down the bar, searching for Iyllo.

Pikr chuckles, the sound similar to a nicker. “No need to be skittish, Petal. I’m too old to frolic.”

“Must be older than the ancient Fallen Stars, then,” I mutter.

His laughter grows. Heat boils low in my belly, simmering outward. My lips tug upward. I want to say something else to make him laugh, but Iyllo shows up with my lunar cider and places the horn in the stand in front of me.

“Drink up!” he says through gritted teeth. “Up, up, up!”

Grateful for the reminder, I nod and lift the horn to my lips, gulping down half its contents. I must flee this place before Pikr discovers my true identity and hauls me to the palace for punishment. It’s not like Father would spank my bottom anymore. I’m a full-grown adult. Still, the image of Pikr standing nearby, my sore bottom bare and stinging as Father’s laughter echoes through the throne room, is enough to make me wilt.

Although I wouldn’t be opposed to a spanking from Pikr, so long as Father is far, far away.

“She’s plenty fine without your heckling,” Pikr scolds Iyllo, his voice low and foreboding. “I assured the lass that the staff here is moderately competent, despite the establishment’s reputation. Prove me wrong, and you’ll spend the last two weeks of the festival with your arm up your ass, searching for the enchantment I’ve planted in you.”