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“Nicolette,” I told him. “Please. I would like for you to call me Nicolette. Or sometimes, my closest loved ones have even shorted it to Nic. Your choice.”
“Nicolette,” he said softly, the rasp in his voice making my skin shiver with awareness. I liked how his low, grating tones made me feel so warm and wanton.
“I love your voice,” I said, nearly sighing through the sentiment. I wanted to touch him so badly right now. My fingertips tingled over the urge. I wanted to feel his rough hands and thick shoulders. His lips and chest. The places where hair met flesh, and all the spots in between.
Body tightening deep in my stomach, I gripped the reins in my hands and focused on ignoring the stir in my pulse.
“I, um, thank you,” he said, his words uneasy.
“So, about me,” I went on, hoping to find some order and sense in the world again and forget about the sensual side of our union until a better time. “I’m the youngest of three. My grandfather, Terran, was the first king of Donnelly, as I’m sure you know.”
“I didn’t, actually,” he said.
“Really? Oh. Well, yes, he was, which is why the kingdom was appointed the Donnelly house name as its title. But Grandfather died when I was three. So then my father reigned for ten years until he was killed by—huh—you know, I just realized it was my own sister-in-law who murdered both my parents.”
I blinked at the sharp knot that formed in my chest from remembering them.
“How horrible.” Farrow sounded sympathetic.
“Yes.” I cleared my throat, determined to get back on track. “She, uh, she slew them so her husband—my elder brother, Caulder—could become king. It was all very horrible when we finally discovered her crimes years later. But I guess, since I ended up taking her life, justice for my parents was served in the end, wasn’t it?”
“You…” Farrow paused before asking, “I’m sorry, but did you say, you killed the last Donnelly queen?”
My eyes widened. “Oh, don’t worry,” I rushed to calm him. “It was quite by accident, I assure you. I had no idea what I was doing until the deed was done. This is why I shy away from all magic these days. You see, I threw a pouch full of enchanted powder that a mage had given me at her, thinking it would cure her, but instead it—um—it disintegrated her to ash.”
“To ash?” he echoed faintly.
I nodded. “Yes, it was rather traumatizing. I’d never taken life before or since. I still have nightmares about it.”
“I imagine you do.” His voice was so soft and full of such understanding that I wondered if he’d experienced similar nightmares. Being a soldier, he must’ve taken life more than once in his time.
I opened my mouth to inquire, only to close it again, deciding that was too personal too soon. So I pushed on with my own tale. “I suppose, if I wanted to be brutally honest with myself, I’d admit she deserved it. It was her fault Caulder lost his life, as did my parents and my cousin Soren too. And she’s the one who h
elped your kingdom invade mine in the first place.”
“She did?” Surprise littered Farrow’s tone. “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Yes, she was having a liaison with one of your princes. Murphy or something. Do you know of the one I’m speaking about?”
“Murdock?” he queried, his astonishment amplifying tenfold. “Your queen was fucking Murdock? Shit, sorry. Pardon my language. I meant—”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” I rushed to say as a little warm pocket of delight glowed inside me. It actually pleased me when people cursed in my presence. Made me feel as if I were part of their inner circle and not just some royal patron they must watch their manners around. “Honestly. Because that’s exactly what they were doing. While having a dalliance with your prince behind my brother Caulder’s back, Yasmin helped him plan how to sneak past the walls to get inside the castle.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.” Farrow’s surprise echoed around the night. “I had no idea that’s who his source was. He was always so smug about how he got his information, only saying it was the highest of caliber.”
“I wouldn’t call her the highest,” I said with a sniff, only to look his way questionably. But of course, I couldn’t see his expression through the dark. “So you knew the prince well, then?” I prompted, trying to figure out his station. He was a warrior who couldn’t afford a single horse, yet he must’ve been high enough up the ranks to converse personally with princes.
Strange, that.
“What? Oh. Not really. But yes, I guess you could say we were familiar with each other.”
What the devil did that mean? Frowning because he didn’t elaborate, I added, “Vienne’s the one who killed him, if you were curious.”
“Vienne?”
I nodded. “Yes. She grew up in the castle with me. She was the queen’s sister until—”
When I broke off abruptly, Farrow quietly supplied, “Until you killed the queen.”
