Page 43 of Fated to the Wicked King

Gregory descended the stone steps from our left to meet us. Fur cloak about his shoulders, his hand still on the pommel of his sword in readiness, his forehead creased.

Noting the same thing I had, the king met his steady gaze. “Your Highness, you have my word that you and your kingdom shall be safe for the night.” He couldn’t help but add, “At least, from me, that is.”

Gregory’s eyebrow rose.

“I swear on my witch.”

Wholly annoyed, I hissed at the petulant king. If he intended me to mediate between the two kingdoms, he was doing a fabulous job by tearing down my credibility.

Not relenting his guard, Gregory inclined his head. “It is much too late to discuss politics right now. I shall have two rooms prepared. I hope you find them comfortable during your short stay.”

I didn’t miss his emphasis on the word “short” as we were whisked away by no less than eight fully-armed soldiers and led into the closest structure, the furthest from the heart of the kingdom.

We stepped into the warm welcome of indoors just as my teeth started chattering. My gaze darted around surreptitiously. There were even more stiffly-uniformed guards lining the hallways we passed.

I turned to one side to murmur, “He hates you so much.” It was more than a feeling. The prince’s contempt surrounded his physical presence, a carefully tempered pent-up coil waiting to snap. It thickened the air, much like the distinct sense of suspicion and distrust that followed us.

The king’s response was flat. “I killed his sister. You remember. You were there.”

My heart stopped.

Oh god.

When the king was a mere assassin, he had once slaughtered an entire kingdom at a wedding right before my eyes.

That once-radiant, youthful bride whose heart he’d torn out, the look on her face, the stench of blood that frigid night, the paralyzing fear—all of those shattering memories washed over me once again like a living nightmare.

At the time, all I could do was hide.

There was nothing I could have done.

The king was even more powerful now.

I clenched my jaw.

He won’t hurt me.

Of course, the assurances made by the traitorous whisperings of my own heart were just as flimsy.

One of the soldiers led the way toward a room, gesturing for me to enter.

Poking my head through the doorway, I took a tentative step inside before turning to meet the king’s deep blue gaze—always pinned on me.

“My shadows will guard your door.” His words were murmured low by my ear. “You might still be in danger. Those rogues who kidnapped you are likely from this kingdom.” As the guards ushered him on, he started to turn away—then stopped.

“Unless…” He lingered, the heat in his penetrating gaze searing all the way through me. “Perhaps I once again need to make sure you get some sleep tonight?”

“No!” I jumped in alarm. “I-I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

I shut the door in his face.

Fourteen

LUCERNE

Lucerne in daylight was fascinating. A thick carpet of snow from the previous night’s fall layered over everything, giving the landscape an almost ethereal glow.

From the view outside my chamber windows, sunlight caught on rooftops and the slow-turning arms of distant mechanical towers. A great steam elevator glimmered far across the way—a platform of lattice iron that raised supply caravans from the base of a mountain, hissing and trembling as it vented pressure. A dome of glass and gimbaled brass rotated with slow precision while great pistons beneath it hammered a steady, rhythmic cadence. A consistent stream of fog rippled down the cliffside to meld with the bank of clouds forming the endless sky.