I stifle the moan that means to escape me.
Oh, don’t be like that, my Queen. You may not make those noises out loud, but I can hear your want inside your head.
Carefully, I press my lips against his. I pull away, only to watch his face as his honey eyes try to memorize every detail of my features. Really, I don’t need to memorize his. It’s already engraved in my memories.
Flashing images of his skin on my skin and the sounds Bear makes when he cums travel through my mind as I send the thought to him. A rumble, akin to a purr, travels through his chest.
I bite my lip. Tauntingly, I run my fingers through his hair, only grabbing ahold of a handful, and pull his face back to mine. He smiles as he kisses me.
A loud growl breaks the kiss. Both of us looking down at my rioting stomach.
Surely, my hunger can wait.I roll my eyes, leaning back in.
No, my Queen, it cannot.
He doesn’t say it. He doesn’t speak it to my mind either. Dropping my legs to the ground, we walk together toward the castle. I can tell his thoughts are rattled. Bear is worried. Worried about me more so than his people. When Aisha left, he thought he was losing me.
Too much time is missing. There was darkness for a long, long time. And no one dares speak of what the Cruel King went through during that darkness.
Cruelness isn’t all that he’s made of.
I see that now.
Bear takes my hand, leading me through the dense forest growth. My gaze travels back and forth, taking in every shadow, every moving creature.
Bear is right. Aisha wouldn’t be out roughing it in the cold winter woods. She’s staying somewhere.
The sun peeks out over the top of the castle, illuminating it in a heavenly glow. Nothing remains of the jagged broken stone or the burned wooden doorway. Any clues that the people had once tried to take over the castle have been wiped away, cleaned and polished, or rebuilt from scratch until they no longer exist.
However, the memory still remains. Fear still remains.
Fear lives within the people outside of these castle walls. And without a doubt, it lives inside of me. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth even as I chew on the finest meal that the Northern Kingdom, possibly even the Fae Countries, has to offer.
Honestly, I’m not sure when I made it from the steps of the castle into the dining hall or if I made my own plate or if it had just been provided. Blinking slowly, I bring a spoonful of oatmeal, artfully decorated with berries and chocolate, up to my mouth.
Yup, tart as fuck with a side of anxiety.
Miranda squints down at a large, weathered book opened right down the middle. He glances from the tattered, worn pages then back up at me.
Bear catches his questioning look, quickly shaking his head to dismiss whatever Miranda might be ready to say, and clears his throat. “Miranda has really been reading all of that material you have on the Bloodroot. He thinks it makes a lot of sense.”
Miranda’s squint narrows even further. If he tries any farther, he’ll make himself blind, I’m sure of it.
“Right, Miranda?” Bear says, his hands tightly interlocking before him on the long, polished table.
“Not exactly. No.” Miranda’s finger skims along the text, pausing only as Bear raps his knuckles against the wood. His lips part, then close, then open again. “It’s just, I can’t figure out how it’s being distributed to affect the entirety of the Northern Kingdom. But no one else is affected?” On either side of his face, Miranda’s curls, which have grown long in the past few weeks, are tucked behind his ears. The length and the curls give him an even younger appearance, as if his child-like demeanor didn’t already display everlasting youth. “And everything I’ve read says that you need dark magic to complete this. Aisha wouldn’t have access to dark magic.”
“Are you still suggesting that this really is a curse?” The berries in my mouth explode with juices as I mush the food into my cheeks and speak with my mouth full. A dribble of red juice slips over my lip. Leaning forward, I try to catch it before it drops embarrassingly onto the table.
I’m too late. Fat, red, and diluted with my own obnoxious saliva, the drop falls against the rim of my bowl. Promptly, I close my mouth, chewing and swallowing.
Bear sighs low and long as he leans back in his chair. Miranda’s face falls to an even deadpan as he watches me with mild annoyance.
“That was gross,” Miranda finally mutters, turning back to his book.
“If by gross, you mean endearing and charming, then yes, it was.” I crumple the cloth napkin beside me inside my hand and wipe the rim of the bowl.
That was not endearing or charming.Bear rattles inside my head.
