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Veyka, naturally, wore so many weapons a weaker female would have struggled to move. But my mate walked down the stairs to meet us with her confident, steady grace.
She’d traded her long, flowing gowns that wrapped around her body like a decadent confection for clothing suited for traveling. But still, it was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.
The leather leggings were cropped at mid-thigh, cutting upward toward her hips and revealing the expanses of her powerful legs before they disappeared into the tightly laced boots that ended just below her knees. I knew if she turned around, the tight leather would highlight the wide curve of her ass. My cock hardened at the mere thought.
She wore a simple leather belt, rather than the jeweled or metal ones she favored. Her daggers in their jeweled scabbards rested on each hip. Above them, a considerable expanse of her midsection showed, the soft curve of her stomach and the indent of her belly button begging to be licked.
Her tunic was black. Made of a stiffer fabric with careful folds and pleats, it curved around her breasts and hugged the tops of her arms. It was held in place by one of the golden brassieres she brandished in the throne room. Of course, it was. Because even setting out for the human realm, Veyka couldn’t help but show off that glorious body.
The body that she used to lure people into thinking less, so she could then viciously cut them down to size.
Topping it off like the cherry atop one of her favorite desserts, she wore leather armor at her shoulders, hips, and forearms. I recognized the style immediately—just like mine. She must have had them custom made. She could have demanded they be handed over by one of the other terrestrials, but they never would have fit her like this. Like they’d been crafted solely for my torture.
But it was her hair that had everyone gawking.
The waist-length braid was gone.
I’d seen it unbound before, had curled it around my wrists as I feasted on her throat and breasts. But then it had reached past her hips, swirling near the tops of her thighs.
Now the ends barely grazed her shoulders.
“Don’t worry,” she slashed a smile. It was the first genuine one I’d seen from her in days—since the incident with Cyara. And I felt certain it was because she was torturing me. “I packed some full leggings and long sleeves as well.”
She adjusted the pack over her shoulder, the one I hadn’t even noticed she was wearing. The shifting drew my eyes to the hilt peeking up over her shoulder. Not the curved blades she fought with, but a single, massive gold hilt.
Excalibur.
When she returned from the void, it had been hanging at her waist. I’d set it in a chair in the corner of her bedroom and promptly forgotten about it.
But the High Queen of Annwyn hadn’t.
It was her birthright.
One she’d finally accepted—if begrudgingly.
Now, I was the one who was selfish. Who didn’t care about Annwyn—only the female before me.
The female who reached me, grabbed a loose strand of dark hair that had fallen free of the knot at the back of my head, and yanked.
“You’re gawking, Brutal Prince,” she purred.
“King,” I reminded her.
She bit hard on her lower lip, letting me scent the blood she drew. Watching with that wicked grin as my eyes darkened. “Shall I call you that the next time you come to my bed?”
“We won’t be sleeping in beds anytime soon,” Lyrena cut in. “Better get used to what you can accomplish on bedrolls in tiny tents.”
The moment was broken, Veyka reeling back and laughing.
It was a ruse. She didn’t want the rest of them to see just how worried she was. She didn’t want them to think she was falling back into the cavern of the listless darkness where she’d stalled for so many months after Arthur’s death.
Veyka didn’t look back at me as she joined the rest of them, leading the way around the Gremog’s territory of death and into the mountains, to the rift waiting beyond in the ravine.
But I knew. And I would be there when she couldn’t hold the façade together anymore.
28
VEYKA
