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Elara
“How is training going?” Theron asked me, his eyes staying on me as we were served our supper.
I shifted in my seat, the tight bodice of my lilac dress pressing into my ribs. They still bore a bruise from where Rook had blind-sided me with his ax, and breathing was a little painful. Especially in these dresses that Theron continued to insist I be dressed in every day.
“It’s going well, I suppose.” I replied, nodding to the servant who filled my goblet with wine.
“Rook tells me you’re a rather formidable fighter,” Theron said with a level of enthusiasm that made me feel a little uneasy. “And trust me, if Rook says that, it must be true.”
“That is flattering,” I said, taking a sip of my wine. “He’s even tried to teach me how to use a battle ax.”
Theron chuckled. “And, how did that go?”
“Not especially well.” I smiled, hoping it appeared sincere. “I was trained with a long sword and it’s such a different weapon.”
“You were trained with a long sword?” Theron gestured to me with the hand holding his goblet, looking me up and down with disbelief. “YOU,My Lady, trained with a long sword?”
“Yes, Sire. Arankos is a long sword. It only made sense for me to train with the use of such a weapon if I was to wield it.” I took another sip of my wine, his wide eyes and shocked expression giving me much more satisfaction than they should.
“I am surprised King Vayr allowed his daughter to be trained at all,” Theron said with a quirk of his lips. “Or was that perhaps the good Queen Thalass’s influence. Your mother comes from a line of warrior princesses, does she not?”
No matter how much I managed to surprise him, he was always a step ahead. The knowledge of my family’s lineage was certainly no secret, but it unnerved me just how much he knew about me, and I so little about him.
I attempted a nonchalant smile. “Indeed. My mother was a skilled fighter, until…”She had me. I swallowed the words down. It still hurt me that my mother’s pregnancy had weakened her so much that she had never been able to pick up a sword again. She had always insisted it wasn’t my fault, and yet I couldn’t shake the deep feeling of guilt.
Theron was watching my face intently, then smiled. “And so, the battle ax,” he said, mercifully not pressing me for more details. “How do you find it?”
“Heavy.” I met his eyes as I said it, and the look he was giving me made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. But my discomfort was quickly followed by another idea. A stupid one, perhaps. But once it had landed in my head, it would not let me go.
“So, you won’t be slicing me limb from limb any time soon then?” Theron’s lips twitched into a devilish grin. His green eyes strayed over my neckline, moving languidly back up to my face, pausing for far too long on my lips.
I gave him a slow smile, smoothing the satin of my dress over my legs. “I suppose it will have to wait a little longer, Sire.” When I looked back up at him, he was leaning on the table on his elbows, his hands steepled before him.
“Elara.” He was just saying it, testing how it sounded on his lips, his green cat eyes fixed on me.
The dangerous idea whirred around my head like a trapped sparrow. If I committed to it, perhaps I could gain my freedom. I hoped he did not see the movement of my throat as I swallowed hard, biting back the anxiety that sent needles prickling at the base of my neck.
“Do you enjoy looking at me, Sire?” I asked. “You seem to do it a great deal.”
He rubbed his hands together slowly. “A traitorous, mutilated Fae? Why would I be looking at you?”
“Why else would you dress a filthy, mutilated Fae in fine silks and satins if you did not wish to look at her?” I hid the sting his words had unexpectedly dealt me. But he was playing into my game, and I played on. I could use this to my advantage. “You’ve dressed me up like your own little doll, showing all the curves and edges you want to see, Theron.”
His eyes widened a little when I used his name, his hands clasped together so hard his knuckles went white. “I gave you pretty dresses because that’s what all princesses want. Or would you rather I dressed you in rags?”
“You may do what you like,” I replied, leaning back in my chair, my arms draped casually beside me. “But I know that look on a man’s face, and I know what it means.”
Theron chuckled. “Do enlighten me, dear one.”
“It means you lie in your chamber at night and imagine unwrapping me like your own little prize.” I traced a finger along my collarbone, his eyes following it, so predictably. It was working. Of course it was, he was a male after all. They were all the same. “Is that what you do, Theron? What do you do with your tongue while I am lying in your bed with you?”
He charged at me, his hands slamming down either side of me on the arms of the chair. His face was only an inch from mine, and he was breathing heavily.
“Do you wish to be in my bed, madam?” His voice hoarse with desire.
“Me?” I asked, my eyes moving over his face, lingering on his quivering lips. “A traitorous, mutilated Fae?” I looked into his green eyes and smiled. “Why ever would you desire such a thing?”Play the game. Get into his bed. And fucking murder him when he least expects it.In bed, I could have the upper hand. He’d be unarmed, vulnerable. It was the perfect opportunity.
He lowered his mouth, closer, closer, until our lips were almost touching, and I felt almost triumphant as his sharp, clean breath washed over my lips.
