“As you wish,” he breathes, and then the world grows hazy around the edges and I collapse into his arms as darkness overwhelms me.
13
I dream of a dragon trailing his claws through my hair, and kissing his way down my throat.
“Mine,” he hisses, and then he thrusts inside me, sinking his teeth into my throat hard enough to bruise.
Then a gentle hand soothes my hair. “Sleep,” someone says. “Sleep and it will all be over. You’re safe.”
Safe. “I don’t think I even know what that word means,” I mumble.
The hand stills. Someone growls under their breath. “But you will, Zemira. You will. I will always protect you.”
I snuggle into warmth. I can’t fight it anymore. I don’t want to keep fighting.
“I don’t want to be alone….” I whisper.
Maybe I’m imagining it, but there’s a soft sigh and warm hands lock around me. “Never,” he promises.
Waking up feels like being hit square between the eyes by a hammer.
Light gleams through the curtains, my mouth tastes like something shit in it, and I feel like I wrestled a bear last night. Maybe I did. I vaguely recall Keir having to pin me to the bed, and not in an amorous manner. The sheer indignity makes me furious. It’s not enough that rapture steals all your wits and leaves you with nothing more than furious desire, but now I get the post-rapture headache.
And humiliation.
“Thirsty?” There’s a Keir-shaped blur sitting on the edge of the bed—well out of touching distance by the look of it.
A vague memory of me begging him for his cock chooses that moment to replay itself. I groan and roll onto my face, dragging the pillow over my head. “Go away.”
He laughs under his breath. “Ah. Safe to come closer then. Here. I have water. It will make you feel better.”
As much as I want to crawl under the blankets and hide, my tongue is cleaving to the roof of my mouth. I could drink the Burning River dry right now.
Coming out from under my pillow, I reach for the glass and gulp it down without looking at him.
“None of what happened last night is your fault.” Keir’s voice roughens. “I want you to know that.”
And there it is….
“I should never have confronted Rhea the first time.” I grind my thumbs up under the hollow sockets of my eyes. “I knew she’d return the favor. I just didn’t know how.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. “I failed the Third Rule of Thieves Code: Don’t ever get involved.”
There’s a long moment of silence.
“You rescued a servant from a fate over which she had no control,” he says quietly. “I don’t consider that a failure, Mira. I consider it an act of courage.”
I drag my hands lower. He knows about that? “How did you—?”
Keir’s lashes shield his eyes. “I heard talk of it. The ladies of the court think you jealous. But in the serving halls, they whisper of your bravery.” He looks up. “I like the fact you fought for someone who didn’t have the means to fight her own battles. You can call yourself an honorless thief, Mira, but I see your heart.”
Grabbing the pillow, I try and smother my face with it. “That’s not a compliment. Someone like me cannot afford to have a heart.”
Keir tugs the pillow down. “If you don’t care about others, then what’s the point of living?”
It makes me grit my teeth. He has no idea what it’s like to be powerless and forced to obey the whims of others. “How kind of you to say so…. You, who stands at the top of the rule of order. You, who could crush this entire court into pieces if you will it….”
“You think it’s any easier to wield such power and keep yourself in check?” A hot flush of anger brightens his cheekbones. “You’re right. I could destroy this court and every fae in it. I could obliterate this entire kingdom with a mere thought. Don’t think it hasn’t crossed my mind at times. But I’m the one who has to look myself in the mirror every morning. I’m the one who looks at Malechus and sees what I could become if I were to lose the very core of what makes me honorable. The choice to care—to have a heart—is the only thing that restrains me.”
I’m too tired to argue with him.
And maybe the arguments I’m voicing are only echoes of my father’s voice.
There is no kindness in the Court of the Forbidden.
But nobody’s managed to quite beat it out of me yet.
“Fine. You win.” I toss the blankets back. “I need to… wash my face.”
He lets me stagger toward the wash chambers. “I had to take your dress off. It was soaked. But that’s all, Mira. I promise.”
Cheeks burning, I duck inside the wash chamber. I’m still wearing my undergarments from last night. It’s a little bit of a relief, despite the fact it’s all seen better days.
Until I see my reflection in the mirror.
“Well, if that’s not going to chase him away….”
I take care of the necessities, then wash my entire body of its cold sweat. The last to go is the remnants of last night’s powder from my face, including the thick kohl that seems to have migrated down to my cheeks. I can’t get it all off. My face looks like some sort of weird frog that has eyes painted in the middle of its back to warn off predators. It will have to do.
Slipping into my dressing gown, I tie it around my waist and venture back out.
“Here.” Keir moves away from the bed on cat-silent feet, crossing toward a small cart I hadn’t noticed. “Breakfast. Or lunch. I assume you’re ravenous.”
Oddly enough, I’m not. Me. Who’s spent every gathering so far at this court perusing the banquet table. I know he’s noticed my love affair with honeyed breads and lemon cakes—every time I’ve licked the icing from my fingers, I’ve looked up to see
