“Are you swearing an oath to do so every morning, afternoon, and evening for the duration of your stay in my court?” Malachizrien drawled.
“You will never touch me in that way again,” she hissed. “I am not your actual whore while I’m here.”
An icy touch caressed both sides of her waist, even thoughMalachizrien hadn’t moved from the throne. It tugged her sideways and downward, and she found herself tumbling sideways into Malachizrien’s lap. She twisted so she faced him fully, an aether bomb glowing in her palm. The oath she’d sworn was to resist trying tokillhim; trying to maim him was still on the table.
Shadows twisted between her fingers. The darkness then engulfed Kadeesha’s entire hand, leaving it aching like she’d plunged the appendage into a mound of snow. She bit her tongue to keep from yelping.
“Do not do that again,” Malachizrien barked.
She snarled while curling her uninjured hand around the one shrieking in agony. She rubbed it vigorously to get the blood flowing again. “Fuck off into the sun,” she sniped at Malachizrien.
“Would you like me to kiss it better?”
She cradled her hand to her chest like he’d threatened to hack it off. “I’d rather die.”
Ignoring her, his hand wrapped around hers. Unlike before, his touch wasn’t glacial. A pleasant warmth poured from it. In an unhurried fashion, Malachizrien raised her hand to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand, then each digit, and then paid the same meticulous attention to the inside of her palm. With each brush of his lips, more and more heat returned to her hand. She wanted to wrench it away to be ornery. But she wasn’t about to slice off her nose to spite her face. So, she tolerated Malachizrien’s lips on her skin and let him do … whatever he was doing.
“Better?” he asked, his thumb now rubbing small, disorienting circles on the inside of her wrist.
Exceedingly.“Slightly,” she conceded.
“Mmmm.”
She scowled at how the deep baritone utterance informed her that he knew she’d lied.
A throat cleared. It wasn’t until the interruption that Kadeesha realized how intensely she and Malachizrien had been gazing—glowering—at each other.
“Greetings, Your Majesty,” spoke a tan-skinned man who Kadeesha beheld when she turned around. He wore a navy jacket, diamond solitaire earrings, and a grille that glinted with gold and sapphires. He bowed low, as did the three women beside him. The one dressed in a coral gown appeared matronly, while the other two women, one in a ruby gown and the other in a teal gown, bore girlish miens. When the group stood, it was evident they were a family. The older woman and man didn’t share familiar features, but the two younger women—their children, Kadeesha surmised—looked similar and had features that were a combination of the older pair.
Malachizrien didn’t greet the family back. He merely lounged on his throne, shifting Kadeesha to the side while staring down at his subjects.
“We have every faith in your war campaign, Your Majesty,” the Apollyon man said. “I know I speak for all the noble bloodlines when I say you are a formidable king who will lead our people into an even greater age than we presently enjoy.” The man was seeking to ingratiate himself with Malachizrien, and Kadeesha discerned why as soon as his wife spoke.
“Allow us to present our young daughters,” she said. “Aureleyah and Rhiannah. They have recently relocated from our countryside estate in order to get to know court life better.”
Their daughters dipped into flawless, genteel curtsies, painting the perfect picture of docile marriage candidates. “It is very nice to meet you, Your Majesty,” said the young woman in red.
“The palace is resplendent, as is what I’ve seen of the wider city. Zahare is extraordinary.” The young woman in teal preened. She placed a hand on her chest, where the swell of her breasts rose above the heart-shaped neckline of her gown. It was an action obviously meant to draw the king’s eye. Since Malachizrien was a shameless bastard, she succeeded.
“It is nice to meet you both,” Malachizrien said, voice dripping charm. “I hope your stay at court is pleasant.”
“You should invite Rhiannah to sing for you sometime,” suggested their mother. “Many back home have praised her as having a voice that could move the Celestials. And Aureleyah is an exceptional flautist. Both our daughters were reared with the best tutors in every artistic discipline, as well as other studies. Either would make an excellent wife.”
Oh, this woman had no shame. Or tact.
“The queen mother is attending to such matters,” Malachizrien said, his tone curdling. “You should seek her out if you wish to speak further about your daughters as potential marriage candidates,” he told the older woman.
“Of course, Your Grace,” she responded demurely. She and her family bowed once more before departing.
Kadeesha stared after them. “Have I entered some warped alternate realm? Who has that sort of exchange while a female sits on your lap? It’s obscene.”
“Maybe for the southernfolk and you all’s delicate sensibilities. However, Apollyonfolk function much differently,” Malachizrien said with his usual supercilious air. “While your people insist on adhering to tedious rules of etiquette that make little sense when you have monarchs like Rishaud ruling over you, my people do not pretend at being so falsely prim. I am in my prime. I am unattached. And I am a king. Obviously, I fuck around. Alot. Why would one pass up the chance for an audience with me to put forth their marriageable daughter simply because of something as trivial as a woman I’ve just announced as a mere amusement and trophy being perched on my lap—Shit!”
The roared curse gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. He hadn’t seen her attack coming this time because her fingers were digging into his thighs and he’d been focused on grinning smugly at her. Kadeesha dug her nails in deeper, stopping just short of breaking skin with her stiletto-pointed nails. Not that it mattered, since the tiny sparks of aether flames shooting into Malachizrien’s upper thighs were wreaking havoc well enough.
“Yes, this is a sham,” she hissed. “But I can’t be held accountable for my response to being repeatedly called your whore, or disrespectful variations of that sentiment.”
His legs beneath her twitched, and he bared his teeth—twin tells that he was in as much agony as she’d been earlier when he’d staged that little demonstration with her hand and his void magic.
