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“We did.” I answered for him. “The brute wouldn’t let me leave the front gates.”
He looked much better than that morning. Some color had returned to his face, and his silvery blue eyes seemed brighter, more alert. He corralled the boy forward to the table, and it was then I noticed the manacles on his hands and feet, clanking as he walked.
“What is this?” I asked Alaric, teeth clenched as I beheld the boy. It was plain to see he had not yet transitioned from mortal to Fae and couldn’t have been more that sixteen. His dull brown hair was matted and greasy—his face streaked with what looked like soot.
Alaric looked just as displeased with the situation as I was and handled the boy gently as he nudged him forward, “This is your second taster. His name is Rin. He’s guilty of attempting to take the water of the Sidhe without royal consent. He will remain a prisoner until the council decides his fate.”
I understood Alaric’s decision, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. As a prisoner confined to the dungeons, the boy could tell no one of his position as a taster. So long as someone Alaric trusted guarded him, and escorted him to and from my chamber in secret, no one would know.
“Hello, Rin,” I said to him, and he raised his head in response, revealing a handsome face beneath the layers of dirt and eyes the color of wheat. He looked tired, and hungry, and maybe a little frightened, though the tension in his jaw told me he was trying to hide it. “This is a dangerous job, but if you help me, I’ll do my best to help you get out of this mess you’ve got yourself in.”
He inclined his head in a bow, “Yes, majesty. I would like that very much.”
I nodded to Alaric, gesturing to his shackles. He hesitated for only a moment before relenting to my silent request. The manacles fell to the floor, and the boy rubbed his sore wrists, raw and red from the iron circlets.
“You will speak to no one of what you’re doing here,” Kade injected.
“I need this to remain between us, and only us. If you do your part, Iwillhelp you—starting now. Once you’re through tasting the dishes,” I waved an arm over the table before us, laden with roast meats, fruits, and cheeses, “I’ll see you’re fed and clothed properly. And a bath, perhaps?”
He nodded fervently, eyes glazed with hunger as he beheld the bounty before him.
“Go ahead,” I prodded, handing him a fork and the duller of my two knives. “Small bites and wait a moment between each tasting. You can survive a small amount of poison with the proper care.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered, taking his first bite.
I slept restlessly.Tossing and flopping about the bed until sleep claimed me.
I was dreaming. I had to be. My arms were heavy. Chains. Metal bit into my wrists. I was manacled to a wall in a dungeon somewhere far below the earth—surrounded in cobwebs and slick, cold stone. There was no light, save for what crept in through a small slit beneath a heavy-looking wooden door. I yanked at the manacles, but it was no use. I fumbled around the wall, but there was nothing. No way out.
I screamed, and I screamed, but no one came to rescue me. No one was on the other side of that door, and no one heard me. I was alone. And I was trapped.
“Liana,” a voice called, and then louder, “Liana!”
I came back to myself, bolting upright in my bed. It was dark. Sweat covered me in a thin layer of ice, made even cooler by the breeze spilling into the room from the balcony. I shivered, heaving in the chill night air to quell the constriction in my lungs.
“Liana,” Alaric said again, calmer, cupping my face between his warm palms. I pushed myself into him and he tensed. His intoxicating vanilla scent enveloped me, and I was almost immediately at peace… and embarrassed. I hadn’t had a night terror like that in years, not since I was still mortal.
He wrapped his arms around me, and I leaned into his chest. It was safe. I was safe. The trembling stopped, and I sighed in relief.
“Are you alright?”
I tilted my chin up, “Better,” I sighed again, my muscles relaxing.
“Good,” he replied, tucking my damped hair behind one ear, “If using my Grace on you makes you uncomfortable, I apologize.”
My stomach clenched, “Your Grace?”
Alaric narrowed his gaze at me, cocking his head to one side, “You didn’t know? My Grace is touch. I can make anyone feel anything I want them to so long as my skin is in contact with theirs.”
“Oh.”
He moved his arms out of the way as I moved to sit up.Touch.Of course. That thing he did on the ship wasn’t an old sailors trick. He made the nausea go away using his Grace. It seemed a useful ability though not as revered as the sort which could be used offensively.
I lifted one of his hands from the bed, clasping it in my own. “Do it again.”
He lifted a brow, “Are you sure?”
“Make me feel… confident.”
