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His feet met the floor as he sat up, leaning toward me. He planted his palms on the bed, narrowing his eyes at me as he stopped himself only a few inches from my face. His voice was low and deadly when he said, “I would never use my magic to influence your emotions in any way. Understand?”
My throat swelled a bit.
I believed him.
“I need proof,” I said, instead of admitting it.
He lifted his palm to the side of his face, and his eyes closed. I felt his magic slip inside my mind. It was a very distinct feeling, not one I would’ve missed, even though it was soft and pleasant.
I didn’t hear any mental words, but the urge to kiss the king suddenly swelled within me.
Shit, that was strong.
I didn’t have a hard time ignoring it, though. And after a few moments, the feeling vanished and the king let go of me.
“Only the strongest, most skilled lunar magic could force its will on someone without that person realizing it. I’ve never been that practiced. Illusions are my specialty, not manipulation.” He stood smoothly, and then began walking toward the closet. My eyes were glued to his ass as I watched his muscles move.
He disappeared into the closet, and said, “You should know that I stepped into your memories while you were asleep, so I could learn about your illness. I know you’re dying. I’m going to get us to your land, and save our lives. And my name is Laith.”
Wait, what?
It took me a minute to process everything he’d said, and by the time I recovered, his magic had flooded the room.
And then I felt the shift in his power when he transported away.
“Damn you,” I muttered, dipping the spoon back into my soup. It was stupidly delicious. He’d even used a proper amount of salt.
I wanted to be furious that he had invaded my mind and searched my memories, but it didn’t seem out of character for the man. Even if it had, hediddeserve to know that I was dying considering that our lives were tied together.
So I simply continued eating the soup.
He had reacted well to the news of our upcoming death, I supposed. Hadn’t been angry with me for keeping it from him, or scared at all. Just determined to prevent it.
It couldn’t have gone any better than that, truthfully.
I needed to get dressed, so I slipped out of the bed when the soup was gone, and padded over to the closet. It looked fuller from where I stood, which meant the king had probably brought me a dress or two.
My eyebrows lifted when I made it inside and saw just how packed the space was.
So many dresses and undergarments, all done in black and gold. I hated the night court’s version of underwear though; elemental fae clothing was thinner and softer, and the undergarments were built into the clothes, so everything felt simpler.
I didn’t miss many things from my childhood, but the clothing was one of them.
My fingers skimmed the fabrics, and I took time to look at each of them.
It was too much; I didn’t need so many things. But something told me the king—Laith—wouldn’t appreciate hearing that.
I finally selected the dress that looked the loosest and therefore most comfortable, and stepped into it. It was a shimmery black color with a high neckline that left enough space for my nipples not to look pointy, an almost-nonexistent back, and a slit going from the floor almost to my crotch.
Because of the way it was cut, I could move freely and comfortably. If not for Laith’s magic helping with my illness, I’d have needed to put a sweater over the top. But I was feeling plenty warm and comfortable, so I was fine.
The silky fabric brushed against my legs as I crossed the room, headed for the bathroom. My eyes widened when I saw myself in the mirror, and my fingers lifted to my throat.
They brushed carefully over the masterpiece of markings, but it just felt like skin.
“He wasn’t kidding,” I murmured, stepping closer so I could get a better look. My chin rose, and my gaze slid slowly over the markings. They were delicate, forming soft swirls and tight curls, stretching over my too-pale skin.
Beautiful.
