If he has half the skill of the Simon I tasted in the brothel, I am in for a hell of a ride.
Mortified, I study his face. There’s no mockery on his face, so maybe he hasn’t heard me.
Nothing like that, darling; I didn’t want to ruin your delight with my interruptions. I’ve stored your particular tastes for later.A sweet smile moulds his sensual lips.
My cheeks are on fucking fire. Squeezing my fists, I try to battle the embarrassment because I can’t stop my mind from considering if Aidon has similar abilities.
“You’re making it so hard for me not to make fun of you,” he states accusingly.
One of his black locks falls onto his face. He scowls and waves his hand, changing his hair into a messy undercut.
Freaking cool.
I don’t bother with replying. What can one answer to such a slip-up?
We walk in silence for a few heartbeats, following the Hermitage. Jestin bolted ahead of us a while ago. Judging by what I overheard, some kind of emergency occurred in the lower city.
When the inferno on my cheeks finally cools and I feel out of the woods, Aidon says, “But we can find a quiet corner for you to find out.” He winks, then his brow furrows in concentration; he tips his head to the side, before a large, goofy grin spreads across his face. “Or a busy corner?” He suggests, making me as red as a beetroot.
Again.
Freaking mind intruder.
“Oh, I can’t wait to pound that attitude out of you.”
“If you make it good,” I tease, finding myself smiling.
“I will deliver what you yearn for.” He lightly knocks on his head. “I know what you crave.”
We share a stare full of promise and tension, before I burst out laughing. “Right,” I shake my head with newfound determination to face what is ahead.
“Green doesn’t suit you, precious Lord,” Aidon smirks, and I follow his eyes. Jestin doesn’t look cool and composed anymore. He is fuming.
However, I don’t have time to analyse it because I notice a squad of Dragthralls. Dragon slaves aren’t often seen outside the Capital. Usually, if a Queen doesn’t need them to do their bidding, they don’t bother with anything or anyone, camping in their isolated mountains without a care of the outside world. Then again, I am not surprised they have no need to leave their colony. If my home were situated in the clouds, I would be against leaving it as well.
“Why are they here?” I ask, watching their wings unfurl. They are tar-black and heavy, the membrane thick as a cured hide. They’re every bit the image of their masters.
“Not here, love,” Jestin pegs me with a look, his face a stone mask.
I nod, but the anxiety forces me to try my luck with chit-chat.
Before I embarrass myself further, he reaches for my hand and squeezes, like he’s done a million times before, soothing me.
I know I will be fine.
I take a shaky breath and open my mouth to speak, but the palace guards interrupt. They swing open the gates to reveal the black-red, sunlit palace, surrounded by lush gardens full of impossible greenery, fountains, and magical folding sun chairs.
“Happy Summer Solstice, My Lady.” They bow, and I return the greeting, offering them a strained smile.
“Seleste.” Bile grows in my throat at the familiar, soft cadence of her voice.
Samira. The only girl I ever spent time with because she genuinely liked my company. The only female friend I ever had.She was the one who explained why I bled every season, the one who stayed listening to me whine while Grams pushed me too hard, the one who barged into my room the day I came back from my first time because she couldn’t wait to hear every freaking detail.
But now?
She stands at the top of the grand, polished black stairs with her blond ponytail and sun-kissed skin, looking the same as always. However, the coldness in her features halts my steps. Her expression pins me in place, and my stomach twists like it’s rearranging itself.
“Nice of youto finally make an appearance, My Lady,” Samira’s stiff tone punches me right in the chest. She bows deeply, as if the formality of the gesture could match the severity in her voice.
