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She had meant to go for his face, to further mar those perfect features, the full lips and slightly arched nose. But Rune was far too fast.
In one moment, he stood wide-eyed, hand still resting on his sword pommel. Then, with a flash, his blade caught Elma’s, and there was a ring of steel on metal, their faces only inches from each other. With one deft twist of the wrist, Rune disarmed her. The display sword went flying, bent at a ridiculous angle.
But Elma’s rage was boiling over. She had been so stupid, so naive. She hadtrusteda Slödavan. Taken him under her wing, into her bed. Her advisors were right — she wasn’t fit to be queen.
In a burst of passion, Elma struck out with her bare hands. As she reached for his sword arm, hoping to hold him off just long enough to cause him pain, she kicked upward with her knee, aiming for his groin.
But again, he was too fast. With infuriating ease, he avoided her attacks and caught her under the knee with his free hand. There was a loud, ringing clatter as he tossed his sword aside and swept Elma’s legs out from under her.
Her back slammed to the floor, the breath fleeing her lungs in one violent burst. Rune moved like a serpent striking. In a breath, he had both of Elma’s wrists clenched in one hand, holding them above her head so that she was stretched out beneath him. His other hand pressed to her throat.
She writhed, kicking, but Rune had settled himself on top of her, straddling her hips, his body weight holding her down.
“Stop,” he said, his face only inches from hers.
She couldn’t read the emotion in his expression; he was flushed, eyes bright, but she saw no hatred there. No cruelty. What new trick was he about to play? Instead of replying, she spat in his face.
Rune closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a sigh. “You’re being ridiculous. If you’d only give me a moment to speak—”
“How dare you try to speak tome,” Elma growled, unable to hold back. “I should have let you die in the Death Games.”
“Oh please, you don’t really feel that way.”
Elma bucked, trying to dislodge him, and he made a low, satisfied sound in his throat in response. Her body was beginning to betray her, the raging fire of anger and betrayal tightening, drifting lower until it began to thrum deep in her belly.
“I haven’t betrayed you,” Rune said, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear. “Will youstopwrithing? You’re going to make this impossible for both of us. I’m having a hard enough time as it is, keeping my hands off you.”
“Haven’t betrayed me?” Elma said, her voice cracking with disbelief. “What do you call this, then?”
“Self-defense,” he crooned. Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he bit down on her earlobe.
Jagged desire, undeniable, cut through Elma from Rune’s teeth on her ear to the ache between her thighs. “Fuck you. Get off of me.”
“But if I let you go, you’ll try to kill me. And while dying at your hand would be my greatest privilege, I’d at least like a chance to explain myself before that happens.” He paused and took a long, shaking breath. “Pleasestop moving around like that, I am distracted enough as it is.”
Elma laid still, breathing hard. Emotions, fiery and confusing, warred within her. She wanted to hurt him, to make him suffer. But when they locked eyes, she saw only her Rune there and the hazy fog of lust. The haughty Crown Prince of Slödava from the gates of Slödava was gone, but he could return at any moment, turning on Elma. There was no knowing who the real Rune was. But now, inthis moment, he was hers, and she could not pretend she didn’t want him.
“Speak,” she said at last. If he was so desperate to try to absolve himself, then so be it. And when he was finished, Elma would find some way to kill him anyway. But just the weight of him, his obvious arousal, his fingers tight against her neck, was almost enough to render her incoherent.
“Thank you,” Rune said, his fingers on her neck loosening. His other hand, holding her wrists, remained firm. “I have an image to maintain. There are rules. You must understand that. Until the Queen of Slödava commands it, youmustbe a prisoner here. I don’t have the power to defy the law. And if our people suspected that I’ve been… well,fraternizingwith Rothen, then I’ve compromised myself and you can take a peace treaty off the table. Forever.”
Elma listened with stubborn incredulity. Trust lost was not easily regained. “Why didn’t you warn me?” she demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me who you are? Is your name even Rune?”
“Of course, it’s my name,” he said. “And I didn’t tell you that I’m the Crown Prince of Slödava because it would have been incredibly stupid, that’s why. You’d have held me hostage, had me tortured or executed or some such nonsense.”
The rationality of it gnawed at her. She would have. She knewit, and so did he. But his words were not enough. “Let me go,” she said, teeth clenched. And then, because the truth rankled, she added, “I wouldnothave tortured you.”
He grinned. “Don’t lie.”
Elma made a sound of frustration, bucking upward in a vain attempt to dislodge him.
“Good gods, what did I say about writhing?” Rune said, breathless. “If I let you go, will you promise not to stab me?”
She considered. There was no reason to cling to honesty here. But some part of her, the weakest part, was sick with the desire to believe Rune. To trust him again.
“Fine,” she said at last. “I promise not to stab you.”
“Or otherwise harm me fatally,” he added.
