Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
The blonde reared back, a hand fluttering to her heart. “I don’t lust for him. I could never. He’s like a brother to me.” She shuddered, as if truly horrified by the notion.
But...she must be lying. Who wouldn’t crave a male like Micah?
“Who are you really?” Elena demanded, angry again. “Why are you here? The timing of your arrival is questionable at best.”
Ugh. She sounded like her brother. “As a potential queen, I’ll do the asking. As my inferior, you’ll do the answering.” As the other woman glowered, she demanded, “Why hasn’t some buxom beauty already married the king? There must be a reason.”
The fae rolled her eyes. “Stop pretending you don’t feel it. It only makes you seem guiltier.”
This was the second time Miss Blue Dress had implied people experienced a skin-peeling sensation in Micah’s presence. A lie meant to scare Viori away? But even Cakara had mentioned it.
No, it must be a lie. One perpetrated by the entire campground. Elena must desire him for her own. Who wouldn’t want to snatch up such a prize?
A good man. Honorable. Was he?
Longing consumed her. Oh, to be the one to snare such a rare creature. A possible friend, worthy of trust. Except, foreboding tickled her nape. A familiar sensation. The herald to loss.
She’d felt this only three times before. The day her parents died. The day Kaysar vanished from the forest. And the day she discovered Laken had a wife, and he’d merely dabbled with Viori for fun.
She gulped. Going to lose Micah sooner rather than later...
No. No! This was the Feast of Remembering. What if there were no obstacles between them? If she married Micah, won him over, gifted her brother with a truce and promised her children would never again harm him? There’d be no bloodshed. They’d become one big, happy family. Micah could maintain his kingdom here, and Kaysar could preserve his position at the palace. All could be well. For real.
“I went to check on the oracle earlier because she pushed an image into my head.” Elena traced a finger around the rim of Micah’s abandoned goblet. “Do you want to know what I saw?”
“Your tone tells me I don’t, so I’ll go with no,” she replied, as if she hadn’t a care. But inside she trembled. “That’s my final answer.”
The blonde ran her tongue over her straight white teeth. “I’ll tell you, anyway. I saw you stab Micah in the gut using the dagger currently sheathed at your waist.”
What! “How dare you suggest such a falsehood!” She would never. Not for any reason. Unless he hurt someone she loved. Which he wouldn’t do. He couldn’t! Kaysar was too strong, and her children wouldn’t dare vacate the swamp without permission.
The little orphan’s words chose that moment to replay. Belua always hunt him.
No. No, no, no. Krunk would stop the others from venturing to the camp, putting themselves directly in Micah’s crosshairs.
Wouldn’t he?
Hand shaking, she drained her goblet. The liquid settled like lead in her stomach. What if her children did venture here...and what if Micah did harm them?
No! She would act. Put safeguards in place. Something!
“I dare because it’s true,” Elena intoned.
The spinning cranked up, no longer fun. “Micah won’t believe you.” And if he does?
Safeguards...
Her thoughts returned to a possible wedding, a single question plaguing her. Why not?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
FRUSTRATED, MICAH TRANSFERRED to the common tent. He’d been gone for hours, but he’d found no oracle, no former mistress and no evidence to point to traitors willing to risk life and limb to save them.
Now, he only wished to be with Red. She liked him. At least somewhat. She would pick him in a lineup. Him. The female who hissed at others but curled against him, clinging all night long. She enjoyed his touch—without payment. Conversing with her satisfied him more than a night spent with a mistress ever had. Plus, he’d gotten used to having her underfoot.
He thought he might be coming to care for her...and fear her loss.
Materializing behind the royal table, he discovered the celebration in full swing. The music boomed, the crowd rowdier. Red—wasn’t where he’d left her, he realized. He tensed, scanning, searching...
There. His jaw dropped. He could not be seeing what he thought he was seeing. Could not be witnessing a former hallucination come to life, as hoped.
Thunderstruck, he stared. Smiling wide, she danced in a circle of three. Or two and a half. A little girl and a doll acted as her partners. Orphaned children encircled them, clapping and cheering as a centaur observed a few feet away with waning disapproval.
Strain fled from him, wonder rushing in. And hunger...
She spotted him and squealed with excitement. And it seemed genuine. “Micah!” After kissing her dance partner’s cheek—and the doll’s—she glided over to throw herself against him.
He clasped her by the waist, astonished, and held her steady. The feel of her...soft and lush. Pliant. Willing. Utterly unaffected by the skin-peeling sensation. He cut off a groan.