"The king hasn't fucked you?" The crude question was delivered directly into my ear, his lips nearly brushing my skin.
I winced at his uncouth words, disgust and anger coiling in my stomach like a nest of vipers. My cheeks burned with indignation, but I forced myself to remain still, knowing any adverse reaction would only please him.
"No."
Kay chuckled again, a sound devoid of warmth or humor. His hand came up to touch a strand of my hair, rubbing it between his fingers as if testing its authenticity.
"The irony!" He circled back to face me. "Arthur has been out of his mind over you, girl, inviting all the women of Logres to his ridiculous festivals with the single intention of finding you. And yet you were right under his nose the entire time! Dining at his table, competing in his ridiculous trials, acting as his student as he tutored and mentored you!" His eyes glittered with malicious amusement. "I wonder what he would give to know that his precious 'Sir Lioran' is the very woman who's haunted his dreams these past months."
"I don't know what he would have to say about it."
He thrust his face into mine then. "As long as you do as I say, he will havenothingto say about it."
I refused to look at him. "I've done as you asked. I'm here."
Kay's fingers gripped my chin roughly, his nails digging into my flesh with enough pressure to leave marks.
"Oh, we've barely begun with what I'm asking."
His voice dropped to a cruel whisper, intimate and threatening all at once. Then he lifted my chin higher, forcing my gaze to meet his as he studied my face with calculating eyes. A slow grin spread across his thin lips, revealing teeth slightly yellowed at the edges and uneven.
"The prize Arthur would no doubt kill for—and here she is, in my bedchamber, waiting for my cock to claim her. The mighty king's obsession, reduced to nothing but another conquest." He laughed acidly. "Finally, I have what the king lusts for—the woman who haunts him and drives him to distraction. All these months watching him lose his fucking mind, sending his scouts to scour every village and hamlet for even a whisper of her whereabouts." His eyes glittered with malicious satisfactionas he savored each word. "And here you are, delivered into my hands like a gift from the gods themselves."
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
-GUIN-
Kay released me with a flick of his wrist—suddenly dismissive, careless.
I stumbled back, the phantom trace of his fingers clinging to my skin like oil that wouldn’t wash away.
He turned from me, slow and deliberate, crossing to a small wooden table in the corner of the room. Candlelight twisted his shadow along the wall, making his movements feel larger, more menacing.
He lifted a goblet that was sitting there, pouring wine from an ornate silver decanter into it. His eyes never left mine as he strode back and shoved the goblet into my hands, hard enough to make the wine spill over the lip. Crimson stained my fingers like blood.
“Drink.”
The threat behind the word needed no explanation.
“What’s in it?”
“Herbs from the forbidden grove,” he said, smug, because as far as I knew, only Mordred was allowed in that garden. “Picked at midnight."
"Why—"
"—it's a blend to sever your magical connection. I’m not fool enough to bed a witch with her powers intact.”
“I’m not a witch.”
He shrugged. “So you’ve said.” Then he motioned to the goblet in my hands. "Needless to say, I am not convinced, and as I value my beating heart, you will do as I tell you and drink." He paused as he narrowed his eyes at me. "If you are worried I am attempting to murder you, you are very much mistaken."
"I know you don't want me dead." Clearly, he had too many plans for me at this stage. "When you say it will sever my magical connection—"
"—only for the foreseeable future. By the next time it matters, your abilities will be returned to you." He paused. "If I wanted you out of the competition, I would have already seen to it. No—it's very important to me that you survive the trials and that you become one of Arthur's elite." Then he motioned to the goblet in my hands. "The concoction simply ensures that tonight, you don't turn me into a rodent or some other equally unpleasant creature."
"My magic doesn't work like that."
"I don't care. Drink."
