And that, I can’t allow.
Keir’s lips curl in a satisfied smile. “I won’t kill her, Zemira. But an affront to my claim on you like this must be satisfied.”
I thump his chest with my fist. “Don’t—”
He captures my hand and presses a heated kiss into the palm of it. “I’ll do nothing that will risk the horn. I swear to you, by the Goddess who Blessed me, I won’t harm a single hair on her head.”
It will have to do.
I finally nod.
And then I escape to the antechambers so I can breathe again, knowing I just left a territorial dragon in my bed unsated.
9
“Did you sleep well?” Keir purrs the next morning, leaning down to brush a kiss against my throat as I stab a plump berry on my plate.
The brush of his lips lingers like a particularly irritable ghost long after he’s taken his seat across from me at the breakfast table. But his words conjure an entire night of tossing and turning as a shadowy figure crouches over me, his golden eyes gleaming as he kisses his way down my abdomen.
“Barely even moved,” I lie.
“Liar.” He plucks a raspberry from the bowl and places it in his mouth with such innuendo I can barely contain myself from shifting in my seat.
“Stop it,” I snarl. “Stop with the kissing. Stop with the touching. Stop this… foolishness. And stop sending me such dreams! I get it. I embarrassed you and now you can make me dance to your tune, but I want you out of my head! If you want your horn, then I need sleep!”
Keir’s hands pause on the lid of the honey jar as he glances up at me. I have a horrible moment where I see the confusion on his face turn smug and knowing.
Oh no.
“Dreams?” His voice has always been his most dangerous weapon, and there’s a roughened edge to it that scrapes over my skin. “If you’re suffering from dreams, then you should know… I did not send them. I have been most meticulous in staying out of your head, as any good ally should.” He licks the honey from his spoon, slowly and enticingly. “Tell me, my love, do I feature in these dreams of yours?”
He… didn’t send them?
Cauldron’s piss. I want to cringe under the table. Heat floods my face. “No, you do not.”
“Liar.” He points the spoon at me. “Am I naked in these dreams of yours?” He sees the red in my cheeks, and his smile widens into a predatory curve. “Or are you naked? And my love, if I wanted to punish you I wouldn’t be sleeping in a separate bed. I would have you bound to mine with silken ropes, and you would be begging me for—”
“Stop!” I clap my hands over my ears, because my own mind is quite sufficient at torturing me itself. I don’t need him to provide inspiration—though clearly my own perceptions have been a little limited.
Bound? By silken ropes?
Oh, no you don’t. I hastily haul my eager imagination back into line.
Horn. Cauldron. Betrayal.
In that order.
There will be no naked princes involved.
He laughs under his breath as he leans back in his chair. “You’re so ridiculously easy to rile.”
“I’m not the one threatening to murder a princess.”
“Who said anything about murder?” His eyes gleam. “I said she’d regret it.”
“Not today, she won’t.”
He smiles.
“You promised.”
“I promised,” he tells me. “But you need help, Zemira. This isn’t your world.”
“This isn’t yours either,” I point out.
“No, it isn’t. But power games? Posturing and preening? Having a knife at one’s throat? Those are things I know.” Setting both hands on the table, he leans forward. “I grew up in a world where every breath I took and word I spoke was liable to be held against me.” His eyelashes shadow his eyes. “These puny fae lords think they know power. I will show them power. I will make them dance to my tune before I am done. I’m not afraid of them, Zemira. And I will help you with this mystery. That’s not an option.”
“Those puny fae lords broke your precious dragons,” I remind him, “and chased you into oblivion. Don’t underestimate them.”
A spark of anger smolders in his gaze. “It was never the fae who broke us. We did that to ourselves.”
“And you shouldn’t be speaking so openly,” I hiss, glancing at the walls of the breakfast salon in our rooms. “If they find out what you are, they’ll cut your heart out of your chest for the sheer power contained within it.”
“The rooms are warded,” he points out. “Nothing can overhear us. And they can try.” There’s something about the smile he gives me that tells me he wants them to. “I would like to see them try.”
He’s going to get me killed.
Worse, he’s going to get us both killed.
“I don’t work with amateurs.”
“Tell me again… how did Belladonna lure you into a trap?”
“Because I’m trying to play by the fucking rules,” I growl. As Merisel, I gain entrée to the highest circles in the land, but it also comes with its own shackles.
“Wrong.” Keir leans back in his chair. “You’re trying to work alone. You had your sister to watch your back when you stole into my realm. This time, you will have me.”
It’s like arguing with a brick wall. I throw my hands up. “Fine. On one condition: I’m in charge. And you will obey me. If I tell you to do something, then I want to see you do it. Immediately.”
“Agreed.” Just like that, he eases back in his chair.
Oh, no. I’m not that foolish.
He wants something from me and thinks he just managed a way to get it.
But what?
“Talk to me about your plans,” he says.
“Something’s going on with this wedding.” I suckle the yoghurt off the spoon. “Neither the bride nor the groom seems to be satisfied with the arrangement.”
“Did Belladonna give you a timeframe in which to kill Alaric?”
“Before the wedding.” I frown at
