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And damn it all, I couldn’t determine if it was because I’d come to depend upon him, to trust his counsel even when I disagreed with it, or if it was the preternatural demand of a bond that existed outside of my control.
It pissed me off.
That was to say nothing of the desire that was building inside of me.
It had only gotten worse since our argument about training. I’d tried to tease him, to use my feminine wiles and my soft body to turn him to my point of view. Only to have him storm out and leave me to finger myself alone in my bed.
As we listened to petitioners, I’d been unable to stop myself from staring at his hand where it rested on the arm of the throne. I pictured his fingers in my mouth. Around my throat. Buried in my pussy.
While Elora talked about the composition of her legions, I watched Arran’s jaw working. The stubble on his chin glinted in the candlelight, and all I could think about was how that stubble felt scraping along the insides of my thighs.
By the end of her report, I was breathing so hard that Lyrena was looking at me oddly and asking if I was ill.
This was need on an entirely different plane.
Satisfying myself wasn’t enough. If I didn’t have Arran soon, on my own terms, I was fairly certain I would mount him right at the Round Table, in the middle of Elora or Parys’ next report.
“Your Majesty, you have that look on your face again.”
I dragged my hand over my face, remembered the cosmetics Cyara had applied to my eyes, decided I didn’t care, and rubbed my them anyway.
I turned toward Lyrena, standing watch at the closed doors to the antechamber, and offered her a wide, fake smile. “How do I look now?”
Lyrena returned my fake smile with a broad, genuine one of her own. “Gorgeous. Like you’ve just been kissed until you’re deliciously mussed.”
“I wish,” I snorted. “I thought your desires leaned the other direction.”
She rewarded my sass with her joyful chuckle. “They do. But I can appreciate beauty anywhere I find it.”
“Always the optimist,” I said, flopping back on the chaise. The sun was about to drop over the mountains, bathing everything in long golden rays.
Cyara arrived with a dinner tray, setting it on the little table beside my chaise. The jewel-encrusted tray was piled high with food—soft flatbread and a trio of colorful dips, crisp fried fish flown in from the Southern Way, a selection of hard and soft cheeses and nuts that already had my mouth watering. I sat up instantly, digging in before Cyara had even poured the wine.
She sank down onto the chaise next to mine, finally without hesitation. She’d joined me for about a dozen meals before she gave up trying for propriety and just enjoyed the food and the company.
Now I sighted Lyrena.
“Come and eat with us,” I said in my most queenly, commanding voice.
Arran was avoiding me—and I him—but I had friends now, I reminded myself. Just because neither Arran or I could stand the tension between us didn’t mean that I had to eat alone.
“I am on guard,” Lyrena reminded me.
But I caught the way her eyes lingered on the tray of food between me and Cyara. I felt the grin as it climbed my face. And after everything I’d survived in the last year… it felt damned good.
“Isn’t Gwen on guard in the corridor?” I already knew the answer. I’d seen her on my way in. One of them was always with me, the other guarding my chambers. I wasn’t certain either of the females slept.
“Yes,” Lyrena’s eyes slid towards the doors to the antechamber, as if she worried that Gwen would hear this conversation.
There was no captain of the Goldstone Guards anymore. Not after Gawayn. It was just Gwen and Lyrena.
“Then I command that you eat. You’ll be better able to guard me if you aren’t distracted by the fact that you cannot partake in this delicious feast.” I scooted over on the chaise and patted the spot next to me.
One more long glance toward where Gwen lurked outside, and then Lyrena was padding over to join us.
I popped a slice of flatbread loaded with creamy dip into her hand. “I love winning.”
“Gwen is going to punish me for this in the ring tomorrow,” Lyrena said around her first mouthful—and a groan of appreciation as the food hit her tongue.
