Chapter 18

Arik

"So, what the hell are you going to do about this situation?"

Silas asked the question with all his usual insolence, but there was something else in his eyes as he intercepted me on my way back from the waterhole. No one had offered to come with me in case another catamount lurked in the grasses. We all knew it wasn't likely—the bastards were so big they couldn't tolerate another cat within their territory, not until the mating heat hit them—but still.

"What the hell am I going to do about what?" I asked. "Stacking Creed's precious bowls so they don't crack on the journey?"

"Don't play the fucking fool with me," he snapped, his eyes searching mine. "You can pull that shit with the others, but we don't do that with each other. The girl…"

"Our king's betrothed, you mean." I stared at him meaningfully, watching the moment he remembered our purpose. "There's nothing to be done, Silas, nothing we haven't done six times before. Each girl has been brought safely to the Kheanian capital, set on her feet in the grand nave, and forced to recite her vows. We'll do what we've done each time, get the girl there in one piece, take care that no harm comes to her before he…" My throat bobbed because I had to swallow hard to keep the bile down. "Before the king does what he always does."

And not for the first time did I mourn the circumstances of my birth that led me to this, to becoming the king's procurer. But if the simple act of lamenting my mother's decisions, or my father's, had the power to change my fate, I'd be ruler of the known world right now, with my own princess sprawled across my knees.

And in my mind, she wore the face of Jessalyn.

I shook my head to dislodge that thought as Silas stepped forward.

"You never led any of the princesses down to the docks and fed them roseblood-laced beer before."

It took me a moment to identify the shift in his voice. Hope, that's what it was, just a fragile thread of it. I marvelled at his ability to summon that feeling, right as I knew I needed to crush it.

"I didn't lead her anywhere," I said, the bowls shifting in my grip. "And I didn't feed her roseblood. The little wench was determined to down that herself, moved by some kind of reckless impulse." I smiled, despite myself, remembering her determined expression and the way her eyes had flashed as she regarded me before drinking her beer down. "I figured she could get that out of her system while—"

"Bullshit." Silas was the only one who could talk to me like this and when he did, I was forced to pay attention. My teeth ground together as I fought against ordering him to stand down and step away, but I kept the words back. "What happened last night was more than that."

"Going all mawkish on me, Silas? The son and heir to The Guild is surely hardened enough to not see sentiment where there was none. We didn't fuck her, you made sure of that. And even if we had, we'd have shown the girl how to nick herself to let the blood flow, so that the king would think he was her first."

I watched his pupils blow wide at the thought of the girl cutting her own skin, my brother's kinks so very obviously riding him: something Jessalyn had somehow detected and was using to her advantage. I'd seen her fumble her grip on the knife over and over, just so he'd correct her. I knew that for him, holding her hand around the knife had been akin to her shoving her hands down the front of his breeches and tugging his cock, given that Silas was just as stupid for one as for the other.

"A little roseblood," I said, watching his reaction closely as my lips twisted into a smile. "We could do just that if she was amenable. Could be a grand way to spend the trip back to Khean."

"Don't." That protective instinct flaring hot and hard in his eyes and driving away his usual cool was not what I expected to see. My heart sank at its appearance. "Don't talk about her like she's some doxy—"

"Every whore we tarry with was someone's daughter, someone's sister, at one point," I said. "Don't ever see you worrying about their finer feelings when you pay them good gold to cut your flesh, paint their fingers in your blood, and then use that to jerk your cock until you spill all over your guts."

"You're a fucking prick. I know the palace made you hard but—"

"If you want her to cut you, bleed you, and then slick your cock with it before you plunge it inside the princess, then ask her." I stepped closer, getting right into his face. "Ask her. See what she says. Get an honest response. Of horror." He flinched as if slapped, a reaction only a handful of people ever saw. Silas wore heavy armour around everyone else, but I knew where the chinks were, just as he knew mine. "Of resignation, perhaps. Or worse…"

He was breathing harder and faster, and his hands formed fists that he wanted to punch into my face to silence me. But you didn't survive for as long as he had in the hierarchy of the Thieves' Guild by giving into your impulses like that, which was the lesson for him in all of this.

"Maybe she'd fucking love the intimacy of hurting you as you begged her to do more, your lifeblood on her fingertips, coating her lips as she brings you to the most perfect climax. And right as you spend all over your belly, your head will clear, and you'll look at her and know."

My hands went out by my side in an attitude of surrender as I stepped away.

"You'll know, then, that she's perfect for you. The only woman in the world who'll not only tolerate your kinks but be right there with you, ready to dive deep in every pleasure you could imagine."

I twisted away, not wanting to hear what he had to say or see his response. My fingers found my father's ring, twisting it around and around. The hell I described? I knew it well. I'd brought six noble-born women to their deaths and each one of them weighed heavily on my soul: the ones who had cried and begged for mercy, the ones who'd sat there like stones the entire journey, meeting their fate clear-eyed, or already broken. But seeing them all go to their fate had not been the destiny that I'd known when I lost her.

When I closed my eyes, I still saw the lady of Fallspire's smile. It wasn't hard to conjure, for the ghost of it rose unbidden. I saw it any time things were quiet, when we were riding, especially on the road to her father's duchy, but I hadn't expected to see it the night I took Jessalyn down to the docks.

My intention had been to gather my men, divest Jessalyn of her jewels and pearls, then return them and her to the palace. I'd thought I would let her experience just a moment of self-determination, where she thought she could escape her fate, then make clear how impossible that was. Instead when she'd handed over the pearl, demanding to be served beer and roseblood, I'd seen another girl with just as impudent a smile, and I changed my plans.

Ariel…

Her name, whispered inside my mind, was a surprising thing. I hadn't thought it for such a long time because it was a spell that summoned it all. The pain, the anguish, of dreaming of standing beside her in the great nave, swearing to always love, cherish, obey, worship. Anything for Ariel…

"I'll take first watch," I told Silas, not turning around to look at him. "I won't be able to sleep…"

I stopped myself. I didn't owe Silas or anyone an explanation and giving them invited conversation. I found a spot right on the edge of camp, pulled my sword from its scabbard, grabbed my sharpening stone, and began working it along the blade in silvery strokes, over and over. The movement became meditative.

Ariel…

Her name had been a blessing on my lips, but was now a curse, one I repeated over and over to remember exactly why indulging in soft thoughts with women was never wise. So why did I find that I had to say it again and again, with growing emphasis, as I watched the tiny princess sleep?