12. Thorne

TWELVE

THORNE

T horne's mind was a tangled mess. His chest felt a bit like his heart had been carved out, while irritation burned through him like a firestorm. It wasn't at all how he had wanted the night to go.

He watched as the sorcerer Nyfain took Breya by the hand and began to dance. That charged his displeasure enough to catch Cassia's attention.

"She is a lovely creature," the queen said mildly. "I congratulate you on finding her. I know that is not something all shifters are lucky enough to find."

The king's gaze flickered down to Cassia's, whose mouth was half-cocked. Her words, for once, felt sincere.

"Thank you, Cassia," he said, shuffling his hand around her waist and positioning it appropriately. "I must confess to you that it was all of your work that aided in her retrieval. Your divination spell worked."

The queen's eyes broadened, but only for a moment. Cassia was known for her poise and nearly non-reactionary nature. It was prudent for her, as she had relayed to him during one moment of intimate conversation, that especially as a woman, she had to appear stable at all times. Though Thorne sometimes detected cracks in the foundation, he would say that her visage had been maintained amazingly.

"That is wonderful," she said softly, her half-smirk dwindling slightly. "That is why we do what we do."

The king considered going on with the dance in silence, the music sufficing as a distraction, but Cassia's acceptance opened a door in him.

"I must admit to you, though, good Queen, that I may have bit off more than I can chew."

Cassia stayed quiet, her feet floating along to the rhythm with distinguished precision. Her tilted head and quizzical stare invited him to go on.

Thorne gathered himself, unused to such emotional exposure.

"I'm afraid that the witch hasn't been convinced to stay as of yet. It may have been a little rash of me to assume that she was willing to take on such a title so soon." His lion growled uneasily with the rejection from earlier.

Cassia's pale-blonde eyebrows knitted together but her lips bowed. The queen was amused, but not in a sardonic way.

"She is a human, after all," she said. "It all likely feels quite outlandish to her."

The king agreed. "She would like me to open up. To share my emotional state with her."

The frown faded, but the guileful smile did not.

"And that's something you are not willing to do?"

Thorne shook his head eagerly.

"It is something I want to do, in theory. I'm afraid that I am out of practice, though. That kind of intimacy has eluded me, predominantly because it is something that can easily be weaponized."

"You have played it all very close to the chest," Cassia stated matter-of-factly. "But I have no doubt you can learn to open up. You have ruled a kingdom for nearly a decade now. I'm sure that emotional honesty will eventually feel like a walk in the park."

Thorne felt an unease surface in his belly. He hoped she was right. As if sensing his plight, Cassia went on.

"What else is going on? What is in the way of this match?"

The king opened the floodgates. There was an effortlessness that rose when talking with Cassia once he no longer had to contend with her lamentations. He saw what everyone else saw as he spoke, that cultured and fluid manner about her.

"Breya shared her concerns with me about some of the attendants tonight judging her. Whisperings of disapproval."

"Hmm," Cassia said. "That is certainly not a trifling matter. I have heard some discontent as well, amongst the lions, I mean. That must be new for you."

Thorne nodded.

"It is. And I want to know what your plan would be to remedy this matter."

She stared vacantly for a moment at the polished cherry wood flooring. The song was coming to an end, and Thorne felt desperate.

"I think you have to accept the discomfort. There were a lot of people hoping you and I would unite kingdoms. People need time to get used to the fact that it isn't happening. Time is the greatest healer, dear Thorne. Your subjects might not be happy with you, but that will fade. Give it time ."

The music dwindled, and the dancers halted movement. The king and witch queen stood before one another, and Cassia laid a hand on Thorne's cheek.

"Trust yourself. That's all you can do," she murmured.

Thorne gave her a chivalrous bow and kissed her hand. She was possessed by melancholy, he could feel it, but she carried it as always with grace and sanguine composure.

"Queen Wyeberry," he said.

She departed, moving through the gathering of guests. The king was gracious for her advice, but he was also troubled by it. It was the first time during his reign that he had to deal with contentious options about his choices. He didn't like that one bit.

He sought out Breya, wishing to drown himself in her sugary pleasantness.

Another song began to chime, one that was far more lively and invigorating than the last two. He found Breya standing off to the side of the dance floor, her hands coiled together.

"My sweet Breya," he said, his voice crooning.

He didn't like how tense she was, so he offered his hand, attempting to soften his countenance. She took it, but she didn't seem enthused.

"I want to tell you something," he muttered, pulling her back onto the dance floor. "Will you hear it?"

She said nothing back as they settled again in each other's arms, but that time they were tangled together like wild vines.

"What's wrong?" she implored with her hands tucked under his elbows.

The king shook his head adamantly, swathing his arms around her head to rest on her shoulders. He was drinking in how tiny she was in comparison to him. Her arms weren't nearly long enough to swaddle around his tree-trunk waist.

"Nothing is wrong," he said. "I wanted to tell you something, though."

Breya was like a dog with a bone. She watched him as if his skull were made of glass.

"Are you going to tell me what is bothering you?"

The king laughed uproariously. It was slightly forced.

"I swear, nothing is wrong!" he said, yelling over the music. "I wanted to tell you that I am indeed regretting planning this ball."

Her scowl was mystifying. But the way she had her hands stroking up and down his waist, eventually scaling his elbows and forearms, told him a whole other story.

"Is this you opening up?" she challenged him.

He crawled his hands up her back and began to cascade them downward at a sensual pace. At the same time, Thorne leaned in close to the shell of her ear, watching her plum lips part as he growled.

"I wanted to tell you that I regret it because all I really want to do is take you back to my room and make you scream my name again."

Thorne heard her breath catch in her throat, then her hips thrust absentmindedly into him. She turned her face away from him, bashful.

The king was awash with her rich fragrance and risked a light kiss planted onto the nape of her neck. She responded with a mellow groan, one that was imperceptible to the rest of the ballroom attendants.

Eventually, Breya's hands crept along to the front of his pants, teasing him by stroking along the ridges of his flat belly. She turned back, pressing her cheeks against his, and breathed a hissing, sultry purr.

"Sometimes a little delayed gratification is good for you. It'll make the reward a little more explosive."

Her hand wasn't on his cock, but it may as well have been. He felt it twitch slightly, Breya acting as the conductor to the orchestra of his desire.

"Hmm," he protested with a sigh back into her ear. "I'm afraid shifters aren't exactly the most patient of species. I will have to take your word for it."

Breya giggled, and all at once, Thorne was glad again. More than anything, he wanted Breya's satisfaction. It was what his lion had dreamed of since birth, and he physically wasn't able to deny it.

He brought his forehead to hers.

"But there is one request I will make," he muttered.

"Mmm, name it."

"Kiss your king."

Breya looked surprised, but she lifted her chin to meet his mouth. He pressed against her hard, and they became raveled shadows amid the swaying music.