“Exactly.” She points to the ceiling. “The rain stopped. Our lazy morning is at an end.”
My brows shoot up at her absurd remark. “Lazy? There was nothing lazy about what we did.” I drag Rapunzel with me when I sit up. Propped against the wooden headboard, I position her on my lap. My body stirs to life when her bare ass settles over my cock. “Let’s see how lazy you find the morning when you’re bouncing on my cock. What say you to that?”
Leave it to Rapunzel to beat me at my game. Her grin is positively evil. “I say that’s a fine idea.” She lifts and notches her sex on the head of my dick. “A fine idea, indeed.”
She grips my face and licks her way into my mouth. Then sucks in a sharp breath when her weight carries her down. Buried to the base, I growl as I thrust into her. But she takes control by working herself on me, as always, with primal desperation…
Because time is racing us toward a reckoning that will either be Rygard’s salvation or destruction.
ChapterFour
“Have you considered what will happen with your…arrangement…once the crown is on your head?”
This is the first time Emma has commented on my relationship with Wren, Quinn, and Dax. Until now, everyone at Dyhurst has kept their own counsel. Or if they have an opinion about what we do privately, they haven’t been brave enough to voice it aloud.
Not in front of us, anyway.
They wouldn’t dare.
Wren and Dax would cut them down where they stood…
…if Quinn didn’t rip out their throats first.
As if anyone at Dyhurst would speak a harsh word about the men who helped save them from King John’s brutality. Their loyalty, forged in the wake of John’s path of destruction, was sealed with blood. It is unquestionable and unbreakable.
Shielding my eyes against the afternoon sun, I pause in plucking peas from the vines that grow in the garden. Across the courtyard, Quinn and Dax are helping the men repair the western corner of the chapel’s timber roof. The hammering echoes on the unseasonably warm early October morning, a welcomed relief after yesterday’s downpour. The small building sustained a bit of damage during the storm. Nothing too severe, thankfully, and with almost everyone lending a hand to get it fixed, they should have Kenric back in his little stone sanctuary by nightfall.
The defrocked priest insists on sleeping in there. He claims it keeps him close to God. I, however, believe the Almighty is always with us. That we carry the Lord within our hearts. Besides, I refuse to accept God wants Kenric to sleep on a pallet on the cold floor, isolated from his family, when there’s more than enough room for him in the hall. It’s awful that the church forced laicization upon him for denouncing religious doctrine that harms women, and I’m sure that rejection left him with a hole in his heart.
Not all that long ago, I, too, was lost and alone. It bothers me that Kenric might find himself trapped in that same state. Albeit, his is mental. Mine was physical as well. Often, I wonder what’s worse—loneliness when surrounded by people or a sense of displacement when you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.
I turn away from the magnificent sight of the men of Dyhurst toiling under the autumn sun. Wren, Bryce, and Ian are missing. Bryce, as always, is busy in the kitchen preparing our daily meals. In our quest to track John’s movements, Ian is away, meeting with allies from neighboring villages to find out if anyone has spotted the king’s soldiers in the vicinity. And Wren, he—as always—is out hunting. If he’s not pushing himself to the limit on the lists, he’s in the surrounding woods, keeping everyone at Dyhurst fed.
As best he can.
Unfortunately, he’s one person, and the peninsula is small. To help replenish our food stocks, Lucian and Arthur travel to Leighton Falls on market days. There is an air of tension blanketing Rygard, they tell us. As if a single moment of weakness is all it will take for John to catch us unawares. So, we stay vigilant, and we stay hidden.
The plan is forusto catchJohnby surprise, not the other way around.
When I glance back at Emma, she’s watching me expectantly. Waiting for an answer I don’t have because although we’re working toward a common goal—to eliminate the king and seat me on the throne—our aim somehow still seems…outlandish. It’s a goal that includes killing a king and usurping his kingdom. It’s an entirely paralyzing concept on its own. But the terrifying image of my head wearing the crown has been all-consuming, pushing aside any concerns about my relationship with Wren, Dax, and Quinn.
“I haven’t thought about it if you want the truth.”
“Your Highness…” Her sentence trails off before she restarts because she knows I’m uncomfortable with the formality. Soon enough, I’ll have to slip into the role of princess—then queen. But here, with my family, I am, and will remain… Me. “Rapunzel.” She speaks my name like a punch as she tosses a handful of peas into our communal basket. “It will cause a scandal. One they will use against you.”
Although I grew up isolated, locked in a tower, where I believed I would live out my days miserable and alone, I’m not ignorant. What we share isn’t traditional. However, I’m confident that most ‘proper’ ladies wouldn’t hesitate to change places with me.
Given how I’ve sacrificed my freedom for this kingdom, I take umbrage at Emma’s observation. “Why would anyone care who I love as long as I am a good queen? Especially after John married a child bride against her will. One whom he beats. My relationships should be insignificant. What peopleshouldbe concerned about is a life free of worry that a mad King will tax them to starvation. Or worse, burn their village to ash on a whim.”
“If people did as they should, we wouldn’t be in this predicament. If life were that simple, I would still have my family. Ah, Rapunzel, what a world that would be.” Emma returns to plucking fat pea pods from the vine, her expression heartbreaking. “But that world does not exist. Reality is cold and cruel, and people are judgmental fools.” She nods at Dax and Quinn. “Your men will defend you, yes, but as a woman, you must protect yourself against threats both seen and unseen at all times.”
Being reminded of this truth is harsh but welcomed.
“I understand, and I will be cautious at court before and after we take down that bastard.” Then I look her in the eye and say with conviction, “I will avenge your family, Emma. John will pay for what he’s done. That monster will suffer for taking your family from you. He’ll answer for the pain he’s caused Rygard, and after he’s gone, I’ll restore peace to this kingdom. I swear this on my soul. That won’t bring back your family, but I hope it will ease some of your grief.”
Tears pool in her eyes—tears she’s too stubborn to shed. Her hands freeze in their task, and she drags in a sharp breath when she nods. Her entire body shudders for a moment as if her dead family did a collective sigh from the grave. And then, almost as if on their own accord, her fingers return to picking peas. “Know that not everyone hates John. Some wait for the opportunity to depose him. But others crave power for themselves. They’ll seek any reason to unseat you as well. Your…situation…with Wren, Dax, and Quinn can be the perfect weapon to prove you are unfit to rule. They will call you wanton. Brand you a whore. Claim you are unworthy of the throne.”
Each insult is a dagger to my heart. “Do you…” I can barely voice the question, the words a dry rasp that leave a bitter taste in my mouth as they tumble off my tongue. “Do you believe these things about me?”
